Rex Harrison

The Tyranny of Perfectionism

Rex Harrison was born in Huyton in 1908 and never set foot in a professional acting school. His real training came from the raw stages of provincial theaters across England, where he learned that comedy is a matter of rhythm, not jokes. There he forged a style that mixed arrogance with a natural elegance that bordered on insulting to his colleagues.

British audiences were quick to embrace his style.

In 1936, he made his breakthrough in London with the play French Without Tears. This was the exact moment when critics realized Harrison had a special gift for sarcasm. But that same self-assurance could turn into an insufferable temperament once the cameras started rolling. He insisted that every light and every movement on set serve him personally.

During the production of Cleopatra in 1963, his salary reached 250,000 dollars. While Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton dominated the headlines with their romantic scandals, he set an example of restraint by playing Julius Caesar. That performance earned him his first Oscar nomination, although Harrison always scorned the Hollywood awards system.

The Man Who Sang Without Singing

In 1956, he accepted the role of Henry Higgins in the Broadway musical My Fair Lady. The main problem was that he couldn't sing a single note in tune. So he decided to invent a rhythmic speech technique that changed the rules of the genre forever. And the gamble paid off, because no one could imagine another actor in that role of the brilliant, misogynistic professor.

Six of his seven wives had to live with a man who swung between razor-sharp lucidity and contempt for those around him.

The film version of 1964 elevated him to the status of an ultimate legend.

He won the Oscar for Best Actor and proved that a big-budget musical could be carried without a baritone voice. But the massive success came at a high price. Harrison became trapped in the image of the sophisticated English gentleman, and it was incredibly hard to find roles that weren't just a copy of Higgins. The industry only wanted to see him in a three-piece suit, delivering biting one-liners.

The Decline and Refuge on Stage

After the commercial failure of Doctor Dolittle in 1967, his box office clout began to plummet. Major studios were no longer willing to bankroll his whims or put up with his constant on-set outbursts. So he decided to return to his roots and found refuge in the theaters of London and New York, where he was still respected as an aristocrat of the stage.

In 1989, he starred in a revival of The Circle by Somerset Maugham even though his health was already badly deteriorating. He refused to leave the stage because the theater was the only place where he still felt in control. His final performance took place just three weeks before his death.

He died at his New York home in June 1990 from pancreatic cancer.

His will firmly specified that he did not want any kind of public funeral. The actor's ashes were scattered shortly afterward in the Italian town of Portofino.