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| 30 Sep 2017 | |
| Deaths & Obituaries |
| WHITROW, Benjamin John (Ben) Died on 28 September 2017, aged 80. Ben was one of the much loved and most acclaimed actors of his generation. He was best known for his portrayal of Mr Bennet in the BBC production of Pride and Prejudice. The following obituary was published in The Times: The BBC’s celebrated 1995 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice is best remembered for a rugged Colin Firth diving into a lake and Jennifer Ehle’s raised eyebrow as a particularly spirited Elizabeth Bennet. Through it all, Benjamin Whitrow provided a masterful foil as Mr Bennet, sighing behind a copy of The Times and occasionally looking wearily over his round spectacles, though not without affection, at his five “very silly” daughters. When Mrs Bennet threatens never to speak to Elizabeth again after she refuses her absurd cousin Mr Collins’s offer of marriage, Whitrow looks grave, but has a just-perceptible twinkle in his eye as he adds: “Well, there you are, Lizzie, an unhappy alternative is before you. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr Collins and I will never see you again if you do.” Whitrow’s mellifluous performance was nominated for a Bafta — arguably a career highlight for the actor, who was discovered by Laurence Olivier in 1960. Other cameos in British films attested to his versatility. He was Mr Fulford, the long-suffering employer of Jimmy the wayward mod in Quadrophenia, a gentleman caught with his trousers down in Personal Services and an old rooster who claims to have fought in the Second World War in the animated hit Chicken Run. His greatest love was the Bard and Whitrow was a stalwart of the National Theatre Company and the RSC over many years. Tall and thin, he had a graceful presence on stage; he was brilliant as Malvolio in Twelfth Night. The real Benjamin Whitrow was a gentlemanly, if quirky character. His honesty could sometimes be too refreshing and his dispensing of vigilante justice would land him in trouble. Once, after observing youths throw a milkshake out of a car window, Whitrow picked up the drink and threw it back through the sunroof of the vehicle, splattering the offenders with the viscous pink liquid. A high-speed car chase across London ensued. Benjamin John Whitrow was born in Oxford in 1937 into a family with Irish and Scottish ancestry. His father, Philip, was a teacher at St Edward’s school in the city, and his mother, Mary, a former nurse. His uncle Ralph Whitrow was an Anglican clergyman who was killed in June 1944 while ministering at the Guards’ Chapel when it was hit by a V1 flying bomb. Though naturally shy, Benjamin developed thespian ambitions because of the antics of his older brother, Henry, a natural show-off. Watching James Stewart and Humphrey Bogart at the cinema inspired him further. Treading the boards in school productions, he found that he felt more at home being somebody else. After leaving Tonbridge School, he felt compelled to pursue acting against the wishes of his father and gained a place at Rada in London. Still held back by painful shyness, he was not a success. He was on the verge of being thrown out of the course when he was called up for National Service in the King’s Dragoon Guards in Malaya in 1956. His predilection for quoting Shakespeare did not go down well with the sergeant-major. On one occasion he was given a “beasting” after getting drunk one night and reciting verse in the mess, at which point his trousers fell down. Having faced down the sternest possible critics in the army, he was far more robust when he returned to Rada in 1958 and started to win awards. His big break came when he went for an audition for Olivier’s National Theatre Company at the Old Vic. Olivier cut it short, before adding: “Nab him.” Whitrow spent the next few years honing his craft alongside John Gielgud, Peggy Ashcroft and Ralph Richardson. When he blackened his face to play a chimney sweep, Olivier passed him in a corridor and roared: “Marvellous make-up.” Whitrow treasured the compliment for weeks. It broke his heart that his father, with whom he was close, was never fully reconciled to his choice of profession, even though he had taught Olivier at St Edward’s School. In 1972 Whitrow met a young nurse called Catherine Cook at a party. They married two months later and settled in Wimbledon, south London. They separated after 20 years of marriage, but remained close friends. She survives him with their children, Hannah who works in PR and marketing, and Tom, who works in television as an executive producer. Whitrow went on to have an unconventional relationship with the actress Celia Imrie, fathering the child that she longed to have. “I told Ben that, although I never wanted to take that step [marriage], I did want a baby, now more than ever, before it was too late,” Imrie said in 2011. “As long as he understood I would not ask for anything, I wouldn’t want to live with him, or marry him, would never ask for money for the child and I would be responsible for choosing and paying for the child’s education, accommodation, clothing — everything. “If Ben could take all that on board, I said, then his offer to fulfil my wish for a child would be wonderful. He has proved to be a marvellous father to Angus.” Angus Imrie, who is now 23, is a promising actor. Whitrow was an avid book collector, and liked nothing better than rummaging through secondhand bookshops, junkshops and car boot sales. He once acquired a first edition of Dracula for small change, but, feeling hard up, promptly sold it. He also loved playing bridge, having learnt the game at the Old Vic on a table in the wings. “It was fun to play until you heard your cue, did your bit and came back.” That was until he found that someone else had played his hand and messed things up. In the week before he died he was playing John Betjeman in a new radio play about the poet’s life. He had only one day of recording left and it is hoped that the production can be salvaged. Whitrow’s only regret as an actor was not playing King Lear in a big production, although towards the end there were plenty of Learish moments. Whitrow spent his 80th birthday this year in hospital. He was an irascible patient, but the nurses still loved him and presented him with a cake before singing Happy Birthday. On being discharged, he went to live in the actors’ retirement home, Denville Hall, in Hillingdon. He discharged himself after a few days: “I couldn’t stand it there. Too many old people.” (Sc 50-55) |
