Welcome to the Alan Bates Archive, created in 1997 to document the work of Sir Alan Bates, CBE on stage, in films, and on television.

For a few days at the end of December, I have removed the usual news page items, to mark the eighth anniversary of Alan's death. The normal page contents will return after Alan's birthday in February.

Nine years ago, in December 2002, I spent a fortnight in England during the holidays. My husband Tom and I were in London with our daughter for a while, and then we all drove to Somerset, where we had rented a 15th century barn, for a Christmas house party with Rosemary and Duncan Geddes (Alan's secretary and her husband).
It was a happy time - the weather was mild, London was festive, and Alan seemed finally on the mend after several months of recovery from hip replacement surgery. His knighthood would be announced in a week.
He was still visiting his orthopaedist regularly, but could joke about the cane he sometimes still used. One afternoon he came in with a gift bag. "I was leaving my doctor's surgery," he said, "when I realized that it would be nice to give you all something to remember me by in the country at Christmas. So I HOBBLED into a shop..." (he grinned, making the most of the huge effort his thoughtfulness had cost him) "... and found this."
It was a large, lightly scented candle. He had written "Karen" on the bag, and on the tissue wrapping added a Christmas greeting to all of us.
In Castle Cary, our hosts had decorated the stone barn for our arrival. There was a small Christmas tree with winking lights, and festoons of holly, ivy and mistletoe on picture frames; a bowl of oranges, chocolates and Christmas crackers greeted us. The grass and hedgerows were very green; a tree outside the lounge window was glowing with red berries, and over a tall fence cattle could be heard, lowing.
We put the candle in the center of the dining table, where it scented the room. We toasted Alan by its light, never thinking that it would be our last holiday with him.

At his death on 27 December 2003 there was an outpouring of affection and respect for Alan from friends, fans, colleagues, the media. I have gathered the best tributes, my own message and an account of the September Royal Court Celebration in a permanent Archive section, In Memoriam.

A month or so ago I had an email from Carole Zucker, the author of the excellent 1999 book "In the Company of Actors," a volume of in-depth interviews with an elite group of performers, including Alan. She was wondering why her Bates interview had disappeared from the BA. I was dismayed - I had no idea that it was gone, but I repaired the link right away, and I encourage you to read all three parts. While we were corresponding, I asked her if she remembered the circumstances of her interview, and if so, could she write it up for our Christmas issue.

It turns out that she already had written a blog entry about the interview, and I quote from it here, with her permission:

I met with Alan Bates after a lot of hemming and hawing on his part - he was a most reluctant interviewee who vacillated continuously about meeting with me, something I later learned he was famous for. It was "yes," "sorry," "maybe" for about a year. We finally met up in Rome, where he was filming a television movie, and I just happened to be on vacation.

Alan and I had a late dinner in the restaurant at the hotel in which he was staying. I have to admit at the outset that I had a tremendous crush on Alan from the time I was a young teenager, after seeing him onstage in New York. So I was that much more nervous about meeting someone I really idolized for a long time (and the nude wrestling scene in "Women in Love" only added to my infatuation).

He was as charming as I had imagined he would be, as he tucked into his fish dinner. I never eat when I am interviewing someone over a meal - it's too much to focus on at the same time. Alan was often evasive, but he was always deeply thoughtful about his responses rather than giving rote answers, which is the problem with someone who does a lot of interviews. I found Alan to be entirely grateful for the career he had, that it had lasted for so long, and gone through so many changes, and he'd been granted such a variety of roles to play.

Alan also showed tremendous interest in me, which was surprising - most actors want to talk about themselves, and that really is the whole point - not to talk about me. But I had to keep reminding Alan that I was interviewing him, and not the other way around. He had a great curiosity about people and that kind of power of observation is part of what makes a great actor.

I had just seen Alan in a Simon Gray play, "Life Support"; it was one of many of Gray's plays that Alan had worked in, the most acclaimed, probably being "Butley". the role of a lifetime. "Life Support" was essentially a one man show, in which he played a husband at the bedside of his comatose wife; he tries to rouse her to consciousness. ... As is clear from the interview, he was a person who did not like absolutes and dead-on clarity; he wanted to remain open to any impulses that hit him during the rehearsal period.

Alan liked to play cat and mouse and to take a counter-position just for fun, which made the interview process more tricky for me, but challenging and entertaining. Sometimes, one feels that people are making comments to irritate you, but with Alan, it seemed like his normal modus operandi. Alan was by turns amusing, teasing, testing, but always generous and sensitive - a completely loveable man.

I was genuinely distressed when he died only a few years later of cancer at the age of 69, but I was happy that he got to play another great role in "Gosford Park", as the main butler at the center of the film's intrigue, before his untimely death. A really great loss for British acting.

Here is one of Alan's most amusing Hardy readings, from the National Trust recording "Thomas Hardy, Words and Music." It comes to you with the very best wishes for a safe and happy holiday season, from the Bates Archive.

Karen Rappaport
The British Theatre Guide interview featuring the Bates Archive

The Alan Bates Archive was launched on 17 February 1997,
and was Sir Alan's official website.
Site and domain name © copyright Karen Rappaport, 2011.
Photo copyrights remain with the photographers.
The copyrights for quoted reviews and interviews remain with the individual publications cited.
No links or adaptation of the material herein contained without permission.