Albert Finney
A man of some importance…
Abookmaker’s son from Salford, Albert Finney Jr. never forgot his roots; he even ensured the lone feature he directed (1968’s Charlie Bubbles) was set in his home town. Fitting, then, that he should have made his name in kitchen-sink dramas such as John Osborne adap The Entertainer and Saturday Night And Sunday Morning, both in 1960, or that he would later spurn a knighthood in disgust at what he saw as the English “disease” of snobbery.
A grounding at the RSC gave Finney both a booming baritone and an ability to command any stage. Small wonder he should excel in such theatre-to-screen transfers as Orphans and The Browning Version, or that the Oscar Wilde-loving Alfie Byrne in
A Man Of No Importance should be so suited to his talents. His passion for the gee-gees, meanwhile, made him ideal as the disgraced racing commissioner in 1999’s Simpatico.
T hough Finney was best known for dramatic roles, he could carry a tune. Witness his unlikely appearance in John Huston’s adap of Annie. “I still looked cute enough and my charm was not totally chipped away,” he said when asked why he agreed to play bald billionaire Daddy Warbucks.
W hen the starring roles began to wane, Finney made a seamless transition to supporting parts in Miller’s Crossing, Erin Brockovich, Traffic, Big Fish and many others. (He also became a dab hand at the unexpected cameo.) “That’s one of the reasons one enjoys acting,” he explained. “Now and again, you get scenes where you work with somebody really good and you have a good time trying to make it really work.”
A warded for roles as diverse as his fussy Hercule Poirot in 1974’s Murder On The Orient Express to his domineering Sir in The Dresser, Finney’s five Oscar nominations are a testament to his versatility. (Years before Darkest Hour, he was also a definitive Churchill in The Gathering Storm.) “I’m not the romantic type,” he once confessed. “I’m only happy in character roles.” Yet he could woo when required, as Tom Jones showed. NS