The Guardian from London, Greater London, England • 39

THEATRE AN ACTOR REMEMBERED The last role of Ian Charleson The Chariots Of Fire star was that rare thing an actor almost universally loved and admired by his colleagues. Ewen Maclachlan, on the eve of two special tributes, including a memorial performance at the National, remembers a man of great courage Then came Chariots Of Fire, almost everything an actor might have wanted. An Oscar winner and a surprise box-office success, it made Charleson quite rich he was on a percentage of the profits. The critics liked his performance. And though its subject matter high principles and clean-limbed endeavour seemed unfashionable, Chariots won a rare place in the hearts of audiences.

People did not merely enjoy the film. It moved them. It made them feel better. After Chariots, Charleson seemed poised to become a major movie star. hi many ways he was extravagantly gifted.

Fellow actors admired the precision of his performances and his sensitivity to others on stage. Audiences loved him. He was graceful and attractive. He made acting look easy and natural. He could command attention apparently without trying, almost as if he didn't care how the public responded to him.

And yet audiences found themselves drawn into the world of the character he was playing a process which, at its best, Charleson would describe as being "quite effortless, like riding a He had other gifts as well, most notably, a high tenor voice of almost magical quality. He was also a talented painter. And it seemed impossible to find anybody in the theatre who didn't like him. He inspired loyal friendships and could arouse deep emotions from people who might have met him on only a handful of occasions. He seemed to represent something special in people's lives.

They could talk of him as a "golden someone who gave a glimpse of what life might be like on some happier and more elegant planet. He was intelligent. He was witty- He was good-looking. When he spent a year with the RSC in Stratford, according to his fellow actor, Hilton McRae, "almost everyone man or woman was in love with But he was also a loner. For most of the time he lived by himself in his flat in Hammersmith.

He had the tantalising ability to be honest and talk freely about his feelings while still maintaining a distance. Most importantly he never had the long-term committed relationship which he craved and yet always avoided. His habitual rule in love was that of the pining or rejected suitor. Charleson would say fell in love with the wrong person" the "wrong person" being frequently a heterosexual man. Even in his twenties, Charleson was quite open with friends about having gay as well as heterosexual relationships.

Later he was seen regularly in London's gay clubs. But his sexuality made him unhappy. He was clearly THE National Theatre next month pays a rare tribute to an actor when it dedicates a performance of Guys And Dolls to the memory of Ian Charleson. Two snapshots from Charleson's career tell a simple, cruel story. There is Charleson as Eric Liddell in Chariots Of Fire, the blond, pink-cheeked Olympian.

And there is Charleson, a few weeks before his death last January at the age of 40, playing Hamlet at the National, weak and thin, his face grotesquely swollen. From triumphant athlete to Aids sufferer in nine years. The snapshot tells the truth but only part of it Charleson's early career was filled with apparently effortless success. Born in Edinburgh of solid working-class parents, he went to university, won a scholarship to LAMDA and within few months of leaving was playing Jimmy Porter in Look Back In Anger at the Young Vic. He acted at the National, appeared in the West End hit, Otherwise Engaged and did leading roles with the RSC.

16 WEEKEND GUARDIAN SATURDAY-SUNDAY OCTOBER 6-7 1330.