The Prime of Miss Maggie Smith

As I was prepping for this tribute to Dame Maggie Smith, it occurred to me that from her breakthrough Oscar-nominated role as Desdemona (across from Laurence Olivier) in 1965’s Othello, Smith never really had a slump. That’s an extraordinary thought for any actor who poured nearly 70 years of her life onto stage and screen. Even her closest competition for best British actress of her era, Vanessa Redgrave, had moments of quiet over her remarkable career. 

But with that first Oscar nomination for Leading Actress in Othello, Smith was off to the races until the wheels came off. Smith closed out the sixties with one hell of a triple play. The delightful caper comedy Hot Millions with Peter Ustinov, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, and the comical satire Oh, What a Lovely War. 

Of that triptych, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is the film that firmly established Smith as an actor who was sure to have an extraordinary career. Smith was nominated for a second Oscar in a leading role by the Academy, and this time she won. It’s not hard to understand why if you’ve seen The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.

Based on the play of the same name, Brodie tells the story of an equally inspirational and irresponsible teacher at an all-girls school in England during the thirties. As such, she butts heads with the rigid headmistress who would fire Brodie were it not for her target having tenure. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is a deceptively dark film. On one hand, Brodie’s straying from the curriculum to teach her teen students about art and literature is very forward-thinking, on the other hand, Brodie’s ability (affliction?) to romanticize almost everything (including Mussolini) showcases a disturbing inclination of a teacher trying to turn her pupils into a version of herself. Let’s put it this way, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is no To Sir, With Love or Dead Poets Society. Smith’s complex and forceful performance is absolutely stunning. Even with competition like Jane Fonda and Liza Minnelli, it’s easy to see why Smith took home the gold statue at the 1970 ceremony.

Having announced her presence with no small amount of authority, the prime of Miss Maggie Smith was underway. In the ‘70s Smith scored with three breezy ensemble comedies: Murder by Death based on Neil Simon’s Agatha Christie-like play, Death on the Nile—an actual Agatha Christie adaptation—where she teamed up again with Peter Ustinov (as the famous literary sleuth Hercule Poirot), and California Suite (another Neil Simon confection) which tells the story of four very different couples staying at the same hotel. California Suite may feel a bit dated now, but it was a huge hit and received three Oscar nominations. One for Smith whose Oscar-winning performance in a supporting role holds up like gangbusters even if the film is a bit of a trifle. 

Not to be forgotten, Smith was nominated as best leading actress in 1973 for the adventure comedy Travels With My Aunt. Directed by George Cukor, and perhaps largely forgotten now, once again shined a light on Smith’s remarkable range. If the ‘60s were a showcase for her dramatic chops, the ‘70s illuminated her comedic gifts. 

In just thirteen years, Smith received four Oscar nominations, with half of her noms and wins in two different genres. Hard to beat. 

If there’s one nick on Smith’s resume it’s that for most of her career she appeared as a “first among equals” ensemble player far more often than she was seen as a lead. By the eighties, Smith was approaching her 50s and film has seldom been kind to the middle-aged actress. 

That being said, Smith kept doing sterling work no matter the size of the part. Hell, she even classed up The Clash of the Titans. She was once again terrific in another Ustinov/Poirot film Evil Under the Sun. 1985 would bring one of Smith’s finest roles (and her fifth Oscar nomination) in the instant Merchant/Ivory classic A Room With a View. As the chaperone to the young Helena Bonham-Carter, Smith gives a sly and witty turn so delicious to watch and yet so seemingly easily performed that it’s hard to quantify the accomplishment. She just made it look so damn easy. 

One of the reasons I bemoaned Smith’s lack of leading opportunities is because of her follow-up to A Room With a View, The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne. As the title character, Smith plays an aging, near-penniless Dublin spinster who hopes for one last chance at love when she meets James Madden (a terrific Bob Hoskins), who wrongfully thinks she can fund a business he wants to start. The film is a real heartbreaker. More heartbreaking is how few have seen it. 

The final thirty-plus years of Smith’s time on screen are all the more remarkable for the simple reason that in her 60s, 70s, and 80s, she worked prolifically and often in films both intimate and of the high-profile blockbuster variety: Sister Act, The Secret Garden, Richard III, The First Wives Club, seven of the eight Harry Potter films, both Exotic Marigold Hotel films, Keeping Mum, The Lady in the Van, and Downton Abbey the series (as well as the two films that followed). I’m not saying all those productions are classics, but they were all worthy of note.

One of my personal favorites (I’m betting I’m not alone here) in the Smith canon is Robert Altman’s brilliant take on the ensemble murder mystery (ya know, Smith did a lot of those) Gosford Park. Altman was often an “all or nothing” director who worked at such a high degree of difficulty he was seldom mediocre. He was either brilliant or awful. Gosford Park is in the former category, and no one among the ridiculously wonderful (and sizable) ensemble is able to touch Dame Smith in terms of performance, which is a sizable statement considering how terrific everyone is. Every line that rolls through Smith’s lips is so expert, and so droll that you can’t help but look at the edges of the screen, waiting for her re-entry while other characters are having their turn. Smith scored her sixth and final Oscar nomination for Gosford Park. 

I saw Gosford Park at a matinee towards the end of its run in theaters. I was one of three people in attendance. The other two were a married couple. I’m guessing they were in their early 80s. They sat behind me. The three of us annoyed the ushers by sitting all the way through the credits. They left slightly ahead of me, and as my youthful legs caught up to them as we made our way to the parking lot, the gentleman said, “Did you enjoy the show?” “Very much, I replied.” The lady then said, “Wasn’t that Maggie Smith delightful?”

“Yes she was,” I responded. 

In that moment, more than half a century’s gap in age collapsed into a moment of an unlikely trio coming together at the picture show and bonding over the work of Maggie Smith.  

How very delightful indeed. 

Dame Maggie Smith died on September 27, 2024. She was 89 years old.