When the tears are real – how shows say goodbye to their own
The death of a cast member can lead to high emotions on screen, says Michael Hogan
This week marks 50 years since the death of actor Arthur Leslie. He may no longer be a household name but Leslie certainly was during the Sixties – and he has a bittersweet distinction in the annals of television history. Leslie was the first British soap opera actor to die while still on the show, then have his character killed off retrospectively.
A respected repertory theatre performer and playwright, Leslie found fame late in life for his role as
Coronation Street linchpin Jack Walker, genial landlord of the Rovers Return Inn, which he ran alongside his snobbish wife Annie (played by Doris Speed).
Jack first appeared in the soap’s second episode in December 1960 and remained a fixture behind the bar until 1970, when Leslie died suddenly of a heart attack. He was the first member of the Granada serial’s original cast to pass away and a popular one at that, so how to address it on-screen?
Producers agonised over the dilemma before deciding it would be wrong to exploit it for dramatic purposes. Jack was quietly written out, passing away off-screen while visiting his daughter in Derby. Out of respect for Leslie’s family, Jack’s funeral took place off-screen, too.
He left behind a heartbroken wife. As Jack would’ve wanted, though, the Rovers remained open, with Annie now the sole licensee, and, in a poignant scene, locals raised a glass in his honour. That episode aired only eight days after
Leslie’s death – a gap that would occupy several months nowadays, when production lead times are longer. Despite his passing, Jack Walker remained a presence in the Rovers thanks to a photo, displayed by Annie on the mantelpiece in the pub’s parlour until she moved out (in 1983, when Speed left the show).
The passing of Leslie set the template for the classy handling of soap actors’ deaths for the next half-century. Death is a regular occurrence in soap opera, and over the years has been handled in the most melodramatic of ways. Often the purpose is to kill off a character or to chase ratings, and the result, while perhaps providing a quick fix for a soap addict, is ultimately rather hollow. Yet when a real-life demise is echoed fictionally on-screen, it is always particularly touching. And
Coronation Street still does it best. The year after Annie Walker’s Rovers retirement came the most moving example of all. Like the Walkers before them, Stan and Hilda Ogden (Bernard Youens and Jean Alexander) were one of the cobbles’ classic double acts. Lovable layabout Stan and henpecking, hair curlerwearing charlady Hilda were the soul of the soap for 20 years.
Youens died in August 1984, having been plagued by ill health. The decision to kill off his character was made quickly, like Jack Walker’s, but viewers had to wait longer to say goodbye on-screen. Three months later, it was revealed that Stan had died d of gangrene (to which Youens, in real life, had lost his left leg). When mourners left Hilda at home after the funeral tea, she wordlessly unwrapped a brown paper parcel of Stan’s belongings, clutched his glasses case in her hands and wept. As the camera ca focused on her wedding ring, r silent credits rolled. The T tears were real, as Alexander A was also crying c for her friend.
Alexander soon bowed b out herself, explaining: e “Her other half had gone and I didn’t want Hilda to just j scrape along.”
The couple have since been voted viewers’ favourite ITV characters, edging out Minder’s Arthur Daley and
Prime Suspect’s DCI Jane Tennison. Audio drama has also pulled off posthumous send-offs with aplomb. When actor Norman Painting, the voice of Ambridge patriarch Philip Archer – at the time, The Archers’ longest-serving cast member with an epic 59-year stint – died in October 2009, Radio 4 producers tactfully decided not to kill off Phil straight away and let him spend one last Christmas with his family.
Phil was referred to but never heard over the festive period, including scenes where he baked cakes with his grandchildren. The character lived on until Phil was found in his favourite armchair in February 2010. He’d peacefully passed away while listening to his beloved Elgar, a cup of tea by his side. It was beautifully done.
Such examples of art imitating death aren’t confined to soap. The best comedies can craft well-judged farewells, too. When actor Lennard Pearce died in 1984, he had filmed the first 23 episodes of Only Fools and
Horses as the Trotter brothers’ elderly Grandad. Writer John Sullivan hurriedly rejigged the wheeler-dealer sitcom’s next series, which was already in production, to feature the muchloved character’s funeral – an occasion that also introduced Uncle Albert (Buster Merryfield) as his replacement.
“Always in our foughts,” read the card on a wreath. When Del Boy (David Jason) and Rodney (Nicholas Lyndhurst) placed Grandad’s battered trilby atop his coffin, there wasn’t a dry eye in Nelson Mandela House.
The intrusion of real life has an even greater impact on on-screen fiction when a death occurs in tragic circumstances. When Holby City actress Laura Sadler fell from a balcony in 2003, aged 22, Sadler’s mother collaborated with the medical drama on her exit storyline. They gave her a sweet send-off with news that her character, nurse Sandy Harper, had won the lottery and emigrated to Australia.
Especially poignant was US musical drama Glee’s tribute to its leading man Cory Monteith, who played angel-voiced Finn Hudson. After Monteith died of a drug overdose, the show’s creators wrote tribute episode “The Quarterback”. It found the school choir performing at his funeral and turning his locker into a memorial. The cast also filmed public service announcements about drug addiction which aired during the heartbreaking instalment.
Coronation Street remains master of the art. Actress Anne Kirkbride – who spent 40 years playing Deirdre Barlow (née Hunt, née Langton, née Rachid) – died of breast cancer in January 2015. Two days later, Kirkbride received a touching tribute at the National Television Awards from close friend William Roache, who played her screen husband Ken (“I love you, Anne. Thank you”).
Deirdre’s send-off within the world of Weatherfield came six months later. Her family had arranged a surprise 60th birthday party for her at the Rovers when news arrived that Deidre had died. Her funeral saw the Street come to a standstill and Ken’s eulogy reminded mourners of her “booming, life-affirming laugh”. The congregation’s wobbly chorus of
Bridge Over Troubled Water finished off many viewers.
When scriptwriters and performers respond to a real-life passing and produce something heartfelt, it stands as a reminder that, most of the time, drama is merely playing with realism. When reality intrudes on fiction, the results are often lump-in-the-throat perfect.
As the camera focused on her wedding ring, silent credits rolled