Hollywood Mourns: The Untold Story Behind Joan Plowright’s Legendary Life and Tragic Death at 95!

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Notable British stage actress Joan Plowright, who shared the spotlight with her husband, Sir Laurence Olivier, passed away at the age of 95. Known for her exceptional talent as a performer, her fame as Olivier’s third and final wife occasionally overshadowed her significant contributions to the world of acting.

Dame Joan Plowright, affectionately known as Lady Olivier, passed away peacefully on January 16, 2025, at the age of 95, encompassed by her loved ones in her homeland, the United Kingdom. This news was shared by her family on Friday to the BBC.

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On January 16, 2025, Dame Joan Plowright, who was fondly called Lady Olivier, peacefully left us at the age of 95, with her family present in her birthplace, the United Kingdom. Her family released a statement to the BBC on Friday about her passing.

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In her native U.K., Dame Joan Plowright, commonly known as Lady Olivier, passed away peacefully at the age of 95 on January 16, 2025, with her family by her side. On Friday, a statement from her family was shared with the BBC about this sad event.

It was stated: “She had a distinguished career spanning seven decades in theatre, film, and television, until blindness prompted her retirement. Her final ten years were spent in Sussex, where she was frequently visited by friends and family, creating countless moments of joy and cherished memories. The family expresses heartfelt gratitude to Jean Wilson and everyone who provided her with personal care throughout the years.

In 1961, she won a Tony Award for the play “A Taste of Honey,” directed by Tony Richardson and George Devine, and was nominated for an Oscar in 1991 for the film “Enchanted April,” directed by Mike Newell. She is part of a renowned group of British actresses that flourished during the 1960s and ’70s, which includes Judi Dench and Maggie Smith.

These women lacked the romantic allure, casual charisma, or tragic beauty found in some of their forerunners. However, they possessed an uncanny ability – pure talent – which propelled them into fame, initially in England and eventually on a global scale.

Most of them were raised in households that were either working class or middle class; most achieved significant success on the theater stage before the rise of film and television; and almost all had their careers flourish during a revolutionary period in British theater, which started in the late 1950s when a group of writers, often referred to as “Angry Young Men,” criticized the glamorous, upper-class characters created by playwrights like Noel Coward and Terence Rattigan. Instead, they focused on portraying working-class characters in their plays.

In 1957, at the age of 28, Plowright met Olivier, who was 50 at the time, primarily due to her association with John Osborne, one of the leading figures among the Angry Young Men. This encounter took place when she had just joined London’s progressive and politically liberal Royal Court Theatre. Shortly afterward, she was chosen to play the role of Sir Laurence’s daughter in Osborne’s play, “The Entertainer,” a story about an aging music hall performer striving to preserve some semblance of dignity during his declining years.

In 1957, Plowright found herself working closely with Olivier, who was 22 years her senior, largely thanks to John Osborne, a key member of the Angry Young Men group. This connection came about when she joined London’s avant-garde and left-leaning Royal Court Theatre. Later on, she was cast as Sir Laurence’s daughter in Osborne’s play “The Entertainer,” which tells the tale of an aging music hall performer grappling with maintaining his dignity during his final days.

The actress, who confessed she hadn’t been passionate about the part (she deemed it lacking in depth), was equally surprised as her peers when Olivier chose to depart from the West End and perform at the Court, which is comparable to off-Broadway. He was a theater aristocrat; beyond that, he was a globally recognized superstar who mingled with the wealthy elite, and yet here he was, lowering himself for a £50 weekly wage.

It became apparent to Plowright that he had hit a critical juncture, in terms of both his personal life and career. He confessed, “I was on the brink of losing my sanity,” as he frantically sought something new, something invigoratingly captivating.

He discovered it not just in Osborne’s work, but also in a romantic entanglement with a younger actress. This relationship, which started on November 28, 1957 (as evidenced by his diary entry stating he spent the night “with Joanie”), was fraught with complexity. The complications stemmed from the fact that Olivier was already married to Vivien Leigh, a globally recognized star, two-time Oscar winner, and breathtakingly beautiful woman, while Plowright was still wed to her first husband, actor Roger Gage.

In shock, after attempting to end his affair and distancing himself from both women during the filming of Spartacus, Olivier revealed to his spouse that he was leaving her for Plowright, whom he married in 1961, shortly following the finalization of his divorce. Leigh had already exposed their affair to the public earlier, when Plowright faced a media storm after Leigh, during one of her manic episodes (a recurring issue stemming from her long-term struggle with bipolar disorder), declared that Olivier was leaving her for another woman – a move similar to how he had left his first wife, actress Jill Esmond.

Plowright’s romance with Olivier was a double-edged sword: It brought her fame, yet for many years hindered her from fully receiving recognition as an actress. Despite her significant achievements and accolades, it wasn’t until she was appointed a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 2004 – fifteen years following Olivier’s death at age 82 on July 11, 1989 – that her true success came to light.

Joan Ann Plowright, born on October 28, 1929, in the modest market town of Briggs, Lincolnshire, England’s northern region, was the daughter of a local newspaper editor and his wife who enjoyed amateur dramatics. She exhibited an early confidence on stage, as she shared with Andrew MacKay during a 2010 interview at the British Library: “I felt more comfortable being someone else on stage than I did being myself in real life.

As a child, her earliest experiences were influenced by the bustling town of Scunthorpe, a place transitioning from an agricultural heartland into an industrial powerhouse. Her family relocated there when she was merely a toddler, and this very town later honored her by naming its local theater after her.

In her memoir, And That’s Not All, which she wrote in 2001, she predicted that Scunthorpe would transform into a bustling town and surpass Sheffield in steel production within the next decade. Her mother, who cherished the tranquility, open spaces, and solitude to roam freely, felt a profound unease and longing for escape, and started urging us, her three children, to seek better opportunities elsewhere.

Immediately after her graduation from Scunthorpe Grammar School, Plowright secured admission at London’s Old Vic Theatre School. This educational institution was located in a damaged building that had been hit during the Blitz and hadn’t been repaired yet. (Interestingly, her brother David followed a similar path, eventually rising to the position of chairman at Granada Television.)

At The Vic (Old Vic Theatre), Plowright received training under the renowned team of directors Devine, Michel Saint-Denis, and Glen Byam Shaw. She later reminisced about the distinctiveness of this trio who managed the Old Vic Theatre School, as they were not just educators but active professionals in the field. Each of them was directing plays at The Old Vic Theatre, which meant that, in addition to critiquing their students’ work, they also faced criticism from national press critics themselves.

Following her graduation, Plowright secured an agent and soon started landing roles, including a minor part in Orson Welles’ production of Moby Dick at the Duke of York’s Theatre. As recalled by “Snooks,” her nickname given by Welles in summer 1955, rehearsals were tedious, labor-intensive, and disorganized.

On certain occasions, Orson could exhibit a towering fit of anger, continuously revising scripts and dialogues and working with actors well into the night. At times, however, he would be filled with laughter and enveloped in warm smiles as a semblance of order took shape. In yet other instances, he would mysteriously disappear, leaving us to evade the attempts of frustrated creditors attempting to serve him legal papers.

Regardless, it was an exceptionally creative, thrilling, and surprising theater performance that I have ever witnessed in my lifetime.

Despite everything, it was the most imaginative, exhilarating, and unforeseeable theatrical event I’ve ever experienced.

1960 saw a somewhat unfruitful reunion with Welles, as he took charge of Plowright and Olivier in Eugène Ionesco’s “Rhinoceros.” The highly structured Olivier and the chaotic Welles, who had been friends up until then, found themselves at odds. Eventually, Olivier requested Welles to avoid rehearsals during the production’s preparation phase, which left Welles feeling deeply wounded, as Plowright observed.

Additional positions were assumed, including ones at the Bristol Old Vic (distinct from its London counterpart), as well as with a troupe that performed in apartheid-era South Africa. During this time, the actress was shocked to witness a white farmer forcefully pushing a black man into a gutter.

1956 saw Devine extend an invitation to her to become part of the recently established English Stage Company, stationed at the Royal Court. It was here that Plowright expressed a deep sense of belonging in the theater environment. She stated, “For the first time, I felt completely at home within this theatrical setting. I connected with individuals who shared my passion for shaping a theater reflective of the 20th century. Here, I discovered my unique acting voice, and experienced an invigorating sense of purpose that had been conspicuously absent elsewhere.

Collaborating with brilliant up-and-coming directors like Richardson and John Dexter, Plowright uncovered an exceptional cohort of writers beyond just Osborne; this group also included Arthur Miller, Arnold Wesker, Ionesco, and Samuel Beckett. The individuals she collaborated with were often the beneficiaries of a free and improved educational system and state scholarships to Oxford and Cambridge Universities. She observed that they all possessed a fiercely irreverent perspective towards the dominant ruling classes. Many of them were surprisingly well-spoken, intelligent, and self-assured, despite coming from semi-proletarian backgrounds and the provinces.

Although Plowright didn’t act in the groundbreaking play of the time, Osborne’s 1956 drama “Look Back in Anger“, the label that play bestowed upon a theatrical generation was just as firmly attached to her as it was to her male peers. “It was shortsighted for people to categorize us as ‘kitchen sink’ or ‘angry young men’ [and women],” she reflected, “but we were all indelibly linked with that image after ‘Look Back in Anger‘, whether we had been in it or not.

She became acquainted with Olivier primarily through the courthouse. Despite the gap of years, differing preferences, political disagreements, and ideological disparities, she admitted that he embodied everything her generation aimed to transform in the world of theater. However, their sentiments evolved when Plowright assumed the role that Dorothy Tutin had originated in The Entertainer following its transfer from the Royal Court to the Palace Theatre, and later, during its tour.

Working alongside Olivier, she discovered his demeanor to be electric with vitality, and his grin held a touch of impishness; it seemed as though he had been unleashed from confinement… He effortlessly shed every hint of the aristocratic gentleman, instead embracing his role as an actor amongst fellow thespians. Despite being just one of many talented performers, Olivier was exceptional, radiating a powerful energy that left me invigorated and drained by day’s end.

Away from the chaos surrounding the Oliviers’ separation, Plowright brought Shelagh Delaney’s play “A Taste of Honey” to Broadway. It opened the night before Olivier’s “Beckett“, and she was awarded a Tony Award in 1961 for her efforts.

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Plowright managed to avoid the tumult caused by the Oliviers’ split, choosing instead to take Shelagh Delaney’s play “A Taste of Honey” to Broadway. It opened the night before Olivier’s “Beckett“, and she won a Tony Award in 1961 as a result.

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Plowright steered clear of the uproar that came with the Oliviers’ divorce, opting instead to bring Shelagh Delaney’s play “A Taste of Honey” to Broadway. It premiered on the same night as Olivier’s “Beckett“, and she was honored with a Tony Award in 1961.

After tying the knot, I, Olivier, bid farewell to London and my beloved Notley Abbey, choosing instead to relocate with Plowright to Brighton. For the most part, we resided there during our shared years. Together, we crafted an entirely new persona, a stark contrast to the one I had co-authored as part of the celebrated duo “Larry and Viv.” Although my wife officially became Baroness Olivier following my husband’s elevation to the House of Lords in 1970, she consistently declined to use that title.

Following their collaboration, she teamed up with Olivier on multiple esteemed projects, such as highly praised adaptations of Chekhov’s works “Uncle Vanya” and “Three Sisters,” at the Chichester Festival Theatre where Olivier held the role of artistic director, and later at the National Theatre during his tenure. Given her strong connection to his work and leadership, there was much discussion about whether she would take over when he retired; however, that position ultimately went to Peter Hall.

In addition to her current role, she has also played significant parts such as the acclaimed Saint Joan in George Bernard Shaw’s play, Portia in Shakespeare’s “The Merchant of Venice” alongside Olivier’s Shylock, Katharine in “The Taming of the Shrew” with Anthony Hopkins as Petruchio, and leading roles in two plays by Eduardo De Filippo titled “Filumena” and “Saturday, Sunday, Monday”.

Apart from her role in the 1960 film adaptation of “The Entertainer”, her acting career also encompassed Sidney Lumet’s “Equus” (1977), Barry Levinson’s “Avalon” (1990), “Dennis the Menace” (1993), “Last Action Hero” (1993), “101 Dalmatians” (1996), Franco Zeffirelli’s “Tea With Mussolini” (1999) and “Bringing Down the House” (2003). She retired in 2014.

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Besides the 1960 film of “The Entertainer”, she starred in Sidney Lumet’s “Equus” (1977), Barry Levinson’s “Avalon” (1990), three films in 1993 (“Dennis the Menace”, “Last Action Hero”), “101 Dalmatians” (1996), Franco Zeffirelli’s “Tea With Mussolini” (1999) and “Bringing Down the House” (2003). She retired in 2014.

Survivors include her three children with Olivier, Richard, Tamsin and Julie-Kate.

In her natural comedic style, Plowright often hid her deeper emotions behind laughter, as observed by The Guardian after the release of her autobiography. “Laughter seems to be her domain,” the reporter noted. “Her laugh is a constant presence, deep, electric, and infectious. It’s rare for a question not to provoke a peal or a chuckle from her. She has mastered the skill of ‘laughing it off,’ a method for navigating life, pushing forward, and at times, she appears to appeal for help by laughing upward, as if seeking support from unseen corners.

In 2018’s “Nothing Like a Dame” (known as “Tea With the Dames” in the U.S.), which was her final significant on-screen role, Plowright’s laughter could clearly be heard. Suffering from macular degeneration and thus blind, she gathered with old friends and competitors Dench and Smith, as well as Eileen Atkins, at a table in her countryside residence. Under the affectionate gaze of director Roger Michell’s camera, they spent time recalling their lives while enjoying each other’s company.

Plowright outlived Olivier by nearly three decades, having stood by him during prolonged and agonizing health struggles. Despite spending many years apart, they led mostly independent lives. Instead of offering romanticized accounts of her challenging spouse, she simply acknowledged that “it could be quite a nightmare at times.

She was very realistic, much like Leigh was unconventional, and as grounded in the real world as Dame Olivier could be detached from it at times. A practical person who believed theater required both skill and creativity, she acknowledged the intricacies of any outstanding performer – a truth that applied not only to her husband but also to herself.

She expressed in her interview at the British Library that each of us carries multiple identities. Kierkegaard noted that actors, in essence, are highly emotional individuals because they immerse themselves wholeheartedly in another character for two hours. For her, acting was more than a profession; it provided an outlet to delve into the various ‘I’s’ that resided within her.

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2025-01-17 13:26