Heroes

This is not the Fryday I intended to write. This is not the tone I intended to take. I intended levity for my first Fryday of 2016. It is intended, I am sure—still sure, to be a good year. But at this time, this morning, the only words I can bring to mind are those of perhaps the most beautiful song from Jesus Christ Superstar, Can we start again, please?

David Bowie is dead. Alan Rickman is dead. Both 69. Both of cancer. Both in the same week.

We can be heroes. Alan Rickman is one of mine. He has been since I first saw him, in a delightful little film called Truly Madly Deeply (1991), playing opposite Juliet Stevenson. His was an affecting performance as the recently departed husband, softly played with a deft touch that never let his character sway into the ever-present and always threatening mire of maudlin. 

I next saw him, and was excited by him, in a very different role and portrayal—that of the Sheriff of Nottingham in Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991). In that, Rickman let loose. He played the Sheriff almost as a parody of every evil genius that ever appeared in a Bond film. And it worked. Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham was screamingly funny. He saved that movie.

It was Love Actually. I loved watching that man on screen. I loved those hooded eyes that portrayed nothing and portrayed everything. I loved the wry smile that was so quick and so telling. Most of all, I loved that voice. Who could forget that voice? And why would we want to?

That voice. 

We lost two great voices this week. Two voices so distinctive, so recognisable that we know immediately whom we are listening to. No names, no faces required. Just enjoy the gifts we are given.

No, we can not start again.

But, please God, can that be it, for a while at least?