Patrick Stewart, who has died at age 86, stood as a definitive model of the company actor who rises to become a star. From his early days as a natural Enobarbus who eventually commanded the stage as Mark Antony, Stewart brought a unique depth to his craft. While many might identify him primarily for his iconic roles in Star Trek and X-Men, his journey was a reciprocal exchange of talent. He infused screen characters with the gravitas honed through his Royal Shakespeare Company training, and in return, those high-profile roles granted him a heightened sense of authority and confidence during his later theatrical performances. Who has died aged 86, was a classic example of the company actor who becomes a star: a natural Enobarbus who winds up playing Mark Antony, p atrick Stewart.
My interest in Stewart began during the first play I reviewed for a national newspaper: George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan at the Bristol Old Vic in May 1965. As Warwick, he immediately made an impression with his rich, resonant voice. Following his 1966 entry into the Royal Shakespeare Company, his trajectory proved he was a consummate team player capable of mastering everything from Shakespearean clowns like Touchstone in As You Like It and Launce in The Two Gentlemen of Verona to more rugged figures such as Cornwall in King Lear and Hector in Troilus and Cressida. Once he joined the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1966, I followed his progress eagerly.
His ascent to star status became undeniable during the 1971-72 season. He excelled as a ruthless Bulgarian communist in Trevor Griffiths’s political drama, Occupations, and later anchored Trevor Nunn’s four-play Roman cycle. He inhabited the roles of a virile Aufidius in Coriolanus, a volatile Cassius in Julius Caesar, and the grizzled Enobarbus in Antony and Cleopatra, later tackling the murderous Aaron in Titus Andronicus during its London run. But it was one particular season in 1971-72 that convinced me he had star power.
Beyond acting, Stewart was committed to teaching. Guided by the RSC’s verse-speaking expert John Barton, he felt compelled to mentor others, frequently engaging with US students in London alongside Shakespeare enthusiast Homer “Murph” Swander. This involvement eventually led him to the Actors in Residence program, which took Shakespeare productions to American campuses. This period proved transformative; during a 1986 lecture and performance in Los Angeles, producer Robert H. Justman observed him and turned to his wife, declaring, “We’ve found our captain.” Having profited from the tuition of the RSC’s great verse-speaking guru, John Barton, he became passionate about passing on what he had learned.
Although some colleagues questioned his decision to step away from the theatre for a six-year stint on Star Trek, his Hollywood tenure—including his portrayal of Professor X—undeniably enriched his artistry. When he returned to the RSC in 2006 for Gregory Doran’s production of Antony and Cleopatra, he played opposite Harriet Walter with a newfound authority, delivering a performance of Mark Antony that many considered the finest since Michael Redgrave. He portrayed a wounded lion deeply haunted by his past glory.
Stewart’s ability to project profound internal awareness was evident again in his 2007 Macbeth, directed by Rupert Goold at Chichester and later in the West End. Channeling the paranoia of power, he delivered the lines concerning the “troops of friends” he would never enjoy with a soaring, agonized vocal quality reminiscent of Laurence Olivier. A year later, as Claudius in a 2008 production of Hamlet, he moved away from the typical villain trope, offering instead a calculated, composed killer who famously dismisses Hamlet with a pitying shake of his head after the play scene. That capacity to remind us of a Shakespearean character’s self-awareness was also apparent in a stunning performance of Macbeth in a Rupert Goold production first at Chichester in 2007 and then in the West End. Instead of rising in panic, Stewart strode over to Hamlet and pityingly shook his head as if to say: “You’ve really blown it now.”, the great moment came at the end of the play scene when.
In his later years, Stewart formed a celebrated partnership with Ian McKellen. While their performances in Waiting for Godot drew mixed reactions, their collaboration in Harold Pinter’s No Man’s Land was exceptional. As the writer Hirst, Stewart projected a sense of profound isolation and weariness that balanced perfectly against McKellen’s performance as Spooner. Having followed his career from its origins, it was deeply gratifying to witness Stewart fully embrace and relish the star status he had rightfully earned through decades of dedicated, versatile work. Stewart’s career at the RSC went from strength to strength – he was Astrov in Uncle Vanya and Ejlert Løvborg in Hedda Gabler – but there was always another side to his life. Partly because I disliked their performing an old Flanagan and Allen number at curtain-call, i wasn’t as wild as everyone else about their performances in Waiting for Godot. The pub-poet, Stewart – as the famous writer, Hirst – exuded an infinite weariness and desperate isolation as he drank himself into oblivion, while McKellen caught perfectly the chattering anxiety and desperate desire to please of Spooner. The two actors even allowed their voices to blend in a musical harmony that is essential to Pinter, coming from opposite sides of the Pennines.
