I guess my Maggie Gyllenhaal post is just going to have to wait. Mick Lally is dead and this fucks me right off. What is it about not a cunt actors that I know and dying? Sure, the whole Tom Murphy thing was ages ago but I can't recall any of the countless absolute wanker actors that I worked with eating dirt sandwiches in the interim. But maybe that's all for the best. Existence is such a horrible sufferfest that long life is surely a greater curse than a relatively youthful death. So I guess, woo hoo! Mick Lally is dead!
Mick was kind and thoughtful and patient and funny. Not like an actor at all. I really liked him. I would go so far as to say that he was my favourite person on the whole gig. But because I enjoy speaking ill of the dead I am searching desperately in my memory for any evidence of his being less than a perfect gent. This is the best I can do: in the days before Youtube, when such a thing was something of a rarity, I lent him a video tape of Richard Burton being interviewed on Parkinson. He never gave it back. I would occasionally bump into him post-Glenroe and he'd always say 'Oh, I still have that video of yours, I must get it back to you..'
But he never did. And now he's dead.