Peter Postlethwaite

Peter Postlethwaite by Christopher Thompson, National Portrait Gallery, London.



Peter Postlethwaite wasn't like everyone else - stylistically, physically - he was 'different' - and brought something unique and unnervingly unexpected to everything he did. Every performance was individual and had a presence that only he could bring. He was unmistakable - and could emote warmth and menace in equal measure with a single raised eyebrow. Everyone who has seen any of his work will still remember it. I'm not going to waste time recounting his CV - but there are two exceptional performances that stick in my mind, both secondary characters - he never needed to be the 'star' - there would never have been enough space on the screen.

'Dad' in Distant Voices, Still Lives - a towering, terrifying performance of monstrous horror - the scene where he loses his temper on Xmas day morning over nothing still haunts me

'Dipper' in The Grass Arena - a violent, hopeless alcoholic derelict who rules the streets with fear until the loss of ans arm makes him the victim he always despised.

Rest in Peace, Peter, and thank you.