I don’t really know what to say. We lose people every day, but it’s always a shock to lose people we all know. We collectively gasp and sigh over them. You’d think decades of people dying would train us to understand that it happens, no matter how sudden, but it doesn’t. Not really.
Alan Rickman was a man who represented some of our greatest villains in cinema. He was also one of the kindest characters a movie-goer could witness, too, which made him appear to transcend villainy. Rickman’s performances inspired impressions, quoting him at dinner tables and t-shirts the world over.
I think my first introduction to him was “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.” Between Kevin Costner’s non-accent, and Christian Slater’s millennial-before-there-were-millenials performance, the movie wasn’t perfect. But there was classically-trained, Shakespearean actor Alan Rickman, threatening to cut people’s heart out with a spoon. He was practically eating the scenery, and spitting on every take. Terrifying brilliant, no matter what or whom he was acting with.
But that’s his genius. Nuanced, and fear-inducing, Alan Rickman could be as alluring as he was frightening.
Someone left flowers at Platform 9 3/4s and it hit me hard. Our heroes and our villains all die. What happens in between is but one part of the story. Even after all this time, we still mourn.
Thank you, Alan. Always.