Leonard Rossiter’s manic physicality was a revelation | Michael Billington
I first encountered Leonard Rossiter when he portrayed Fred Midway in David Turner's play Semi-Detached at the Belgrade Theatre in Coventry in 1963, and it was an eye-opening experience. While Olivier had approached the same character with a subtle, realistic style in London, Rossiter, drawing from his own background in insurance, brought a wild, cunning energy from the Midlands. His legs moved with a mechanical precision, his arms whirled around like a frenzied windmill, and his gaze was intense and unyielding. This level of dynamic, physical acting was quite uncommon in British theatre at that time.
Rossiter first gained widespread recognition for his stunning portrayal in Brecht’s The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. The production, directed by Michael Blakemore, debuted in Glasgow in 1967 and took two years to make its way to London, a city that saw Brecht's work as risky for ticket sales. However, this play draws a parallel between the Nazi party and Chicago mobsters, portraying Hitler as a menacing brute, and provides one of the most compelling lead roles, which Rossiter eagerly embraced.
What he contributed was his talent for the bizarre and his knack for balancing the scary with the ridiculous. Rossiter made a striking entrance by dramatically jumping through a round, circus-style screen, but it turned humorous when bits of paper stuck stubbornly to his teeth. This set the stage for a performance where intensity and humor were closely intertwined. When a sharply dressed businessman asked him to leave a restaurant, Rossiter's head twisted around like a cobra ready to attack, only for him to respond by tipping his overly large hat in a comically exaggerated manner.
The highlight of the story occurs when Arturo receives lessons in proper behavior from a seasoned Shakespearean actor. When instructed to walk on his toes, Rossiter ended up kicking his legs out in a clumsy, goose-step manner. Later, when asked to stand with his hands neatly in front of him, he ended up gripping his crotch with wild enthusiasm. While learning to sit properly, he attempted a grand, authoritative gesture reminiscent of Roman history, only to realize that keeping his arm straight made it resemble a Nazi salute. This was a spectacular display of acting, and I was intrigued during the one time I interviewed Rossiter when he shared that, despite appreciating the role, he had a strong dislike for Brecht’s political views.
The irony is that Rossiter truly represented Brecht's idea that “the actor should be seen as a barrier between the audience and the play.” This was particularly evident when he portrayed the tramp in Harold Pinter’s The Caretaker in 1972. Unlike Donald Pleasence, who first played the role with a realistic approach, making it believable enough for him to actually go begging on the streets during the filming in Hackney, Rossiter brought the character to life as a lazy dreamer and imaginative drifter constantly fantasizing about reaching Sidcup.
The last observation highlights an essential aspect of Rossiter's talent: he had a unique ability to portray characters consumed by a singular obsession. In Michael Frayn's *Make and Break* (1980), he played a workaholic salesman who was entirely immersed in his job; he analyzed Beethoven album covers and Buddhist brochures as if they were financial reports. In his final role as Inspector Truscott in Joe Orton's *Loot* (1984), he delivered a remarkable portrayal of a crazily fixated detective. When he removed his hat to demonstrate his skills as a master of disguise, his eyes sparkled with the crazed intensity of a delusional cop.
Even his landlord in the TV show Rising Damp, Rigsby, was a character constantly troubled by sexual desires. Whether he portrayed villains or everyday people, Rossiter had a unique talent for conveying that a hint of madness connects us all.
