THE ECCENTRICS (II)
MARGARET RUTHERFORD
It would be difficult to imagine there was ever a more lovable lady eccentric in fiction or in fact than Margaret Rutherford. She must surely reign supreme as queen of all those dotty upper middle-class women who at once combine impeccable manners with an utterly chaotic lifestyle. She was, in truth, a genuine eccentric.
Margaret Rutherford was born in Balham on 11 May, 1892. The original family name was Benn, but her father decided to change it to Rutherford because he felt it was a more aesthetic name for a writer. The fact that Ernest Rutherford was not a writer but a traveller in silks in India at the time was, to him, immaterial. It does, however, provide a clue to the background of Margaret Rutherford, showing us that if eccentric people are not exactly born, they are shaped very early in life. She lived in India as an infant and was left an orphan at a very young age, until her mother’s sister, Bessie, who lived in Wimbledon, became responsible for bringing little Margaret up. And it was here that the seeds of eccentricities which had been sown in Margaret by her father were given the opportunity to bloom, for ‘Aunt Bessie’ herself was completely unconventional. Margaret was encouraged to live in a world of make-believe, as her aunt was totally besotted with the theatre, and often used to stage what were known as ‘family theatricals’.
When Margaret, who used to suffer from back trouble, complained of pain, Aunt Bessie would take command and insist she should lie quite motionless on the floor while Bessie read to her in French. If there were logic in believing that reading in French would ease the pain of back ache, then perhaps only a Rutherford would understand it. We lesser mortals would remain, as we were with so many of her film and theatre performances, utterly bemused but always fascinated.
Young Margaret Rutherford, having studied piano for many years, became a music teacher, cycling round Wimbledon to give her pupils their hour’s worth of scales and arpeggios. She was, she admitted, not a good teacher, since she remained rather tetchy and impatient. But if none of her pupils ever made the concert platform, Margaret at least became a first-class cyclist, and this skill was put to good effect later on when she played Madame Arcati in Noel Coward’s Blithe Spirit. She used to come whizzing on to the stage and brake within inches of the footlights. It always got a round of applause. However, that was far into the future, for Margaret started her theatrical career rather late in life, beginning at the age of thirty-three when she auditioned for the Old Vic School. Throughout her prepared piece her new shoes, bought especially for this auspicious occasion, constantly squeaked. Perhaps this amused the great Lilian Bayliss, guiding light of the acting constellations which included Dame Edith Evans, Sir John Gielgud, Lord Olivier and Sir Ralph Richardson, for she took on the very green, but desperately enthusiastic, Rutherford.
After her distinguished career on the stage, Margaret Rutherford ventured into the film world, making her début in Dusty Ermine (1936). Thereafter, films became very much part of her life, and that warm, almost whimsical eccentricity that was so much her off-stage personality was seen by a much wider audience. Indeed, her unique style was appreciated throughout the world, and especially in America.
In 1943 she was cast in an Anthony Asquith production called The Demi Paradise, whose title was changed for the US market to Adventures For Two. For once Margaret, playing the organizer of a village pageant and a general ‘do-gooder’, was nearly overshadowed by a village full of eccentrics - Felix Aylmer, Joyce Grenfell and many others, all bringing to their parts that dreamy, middle-class, absent-minded quality that’s the very essence of British eccentricity. Laurence Olivier, who was playing the role of a visiting, and very bemused, Russian inventor, told her, ‘I’ve been in films for years now, and I’m just getting the knack of it.’ Margaret responded, ’My word, I’ve got a bit of work to do.’
The Demi Paradise contains a scene that takes place during an air raid, which must rate now as one of the funniest shot during the dark days of the World War II. Whilst a bridge game is played in a splendidly designed drawing room of the period, and genteel conversation is in progress, a lady cellist, armed with her bulky instrument, enters. She has arrived to play a musical accompaniment in the back garden of the house to the song of the nightingale, which is to be broadcast live on BBC radio. They ignore the bombs, the enemy planes droning overhead, and the searchlights probing the skies. The only concession the little group make to this air raid is that the drawing-room lights are switched off, before the french windows are opened and curtains parted to allow the lady to take her seat in the garden. With great dignity, the musician bows her way through the strains of a cello classic, whilst the nightingale, obliging little chap that he is, trills away for all he’s worth, much to the delight of the occupants of the drawing room and, presumably, the radio listeners. Olivier, as the visiting Russian guest, surveys the whole scene with barely concealed amazement.
Generally, though, scene-stealing on stage or screen from Margaret Rutherford is rare indeed. She admits to having developed, over the years, the art of underacting, whilst making her eyes expressive, her nose twitch, and her chin tremble. Her brilliance remains on film now for all to see and admire, whether in major or minor roles. Her characters are unforgettable: Madame Arcati in Blithe Spirit (1945); the maddening playwright to Robert Morley’s director in Curtain Up (1952) (she always said that Morley understood her more than almost anyone, and was a great friend); the District Nurse in Miranda (1948); the romantic governess, Miss Prism, playing opposite the formidable Edith Evans in The Importance of Being Earnest (1952); and a cameo role where she broke all the rules, by scene-stealing from animals, as the pet-shop owner in An Alligator Named Daisy (1955). In 1963, again in a smallish role in The V.I.P.s, she won her coveted Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, playing the part of the lovable Lady Brighton.
Margaret Rutherford would never have called herself a star, but the stars she worked with, a list of whom would read like the motion-picture industry’s Who's Who, all felt the same way. To them she was a ‘superstar’.
ALASTAIR SIM
CICELY COURTNEIDGE