I’d seen Joan on stage before I joined her in the National Theatre company at the Old Vic in the 1960s. So I had admired her from afar: that kind of acting, those kinds of plays, when she was at the Royal Court. The realism was a jump forward rather than fantasy-land. I’d come from weekly rep, where there wasn’t much time to delve into your character, the parts weren’t deeply emotional and you were lucky if you could remember the lines of that week’s play. So it was quite a gear change.
How lucky I was to be a part of it all at the Vic with Derek Jacobi, Louise Purnell and other close friends who came from that time. We went through a lot of wonderful things together. Joan was fun and funny, lovely to act with. And Laurence Olivier was this great leader of the British theatre who brought us all together and instilled the right kind of feeling among us. Of course, going on tour you got to know each other even better because you were all thrown together.
There was no starriness with Joan, who was totally approachable. She could be impish, with a wicked sense of humour, and she sort of glowed with this tremendous warmth. She was never grand.
I admired her hugely as a woman and as an actor. Her absolute honesty was remarkable. She hit the nail right in the centre of its head because she was such a very honest person. You could never point a finger and say, “That wasn’t truthful.” I loved that about her. It’s quite easy to get carried away when you’re acting – you can lose sight of the truth if you’re not careful. But watching her at the Royal Court, I was swept away by this amazing woman. I looked at her and thought: that’s the kind of actor I want to be. Otherwise, what’s the point? You’ve got to give it all your truth, and Joan did.
I miss her a lot already and many others will too – people who have watched her as well as worked with her over the years. An extraordinary woman with amazing spirit.
