Alan Rickman has passed away at the age of 69. I am not usually one to get wrapped up in celebrity deaths, though there have been a few that have hit me harder than expected. But Alan Rickman's passing feels like a quiet injustice to the best faculties of my heart.
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Antony in Antony and Cleopatra |
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Achilles in Troilus and Cressida |
If you are up for a good Alan Rickman binge-watch tonight (as I am), I also loved him desperately in Sense and Sensibility as the noble and quietly love-struck Colonel Brandon. And of course, there is Die Hard, Truly, Madly, Deeply, Love Actually and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, to name a few.
And for your enjoyment and reflection, I'll end with his moving reading of Shakespeare's 130th Sonnet - coinicdentally my favorite sonnet. His distinct voice and impeccable diction draw such increased beauty from the words. It is my favorite rendition of this poem. Rest in peace; you were an incredibly moving performer, and you will undoubtedly be missed.
(I also fee the desire to note that David Bowie - who also passed this week - included in his final album [Black Star] a re-recording of "'Tis a Pity She Was a Whore," which, while not Shakespeare, is taken from a play of the same name by his contemporary, John Ford. I don't know why I feel the need to note this here, aside from the fact that I feel such a connection to these men through their love of 17th century playwrites; for me personally it deepends the chasm their passing has created in our culture.)
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