Vanessa Redgrave: The Life Story Behind the Acting Dynasty

Blackheath: Born Into the Theatre

Vanessa Redgrave was born on 30 January 1937 in Blackheath, London, into a family that was already famous, and the theatre was not a dream for her but a birthright. Her father was Michael Redgrave, one of the great actors of his generation, and her mother was Rachel Kempson, also an actress, and the house in Blackheath was full of scripts, rehearsals, and the talk of people who made their living on a stage. Her younger sister was Lynn Redgrave, who would become a celebrated actress, and her younger brother was Corin Redgrave, also an actor, and the three children grew up in the wings, watching their parents work, and learning that acting was a craft, a discipline, and a life.

The childhood was not easy, despite the fame. Her father was often away, working in the theatre and in films, and her mother held the family together, and the children learned to be independent, to be serious about their work, and to understand that talent is not enough, that an actor must also have discipline, and courage, and a willingness to take risks. Vanessa was, from an early age, a serious child, tall, thoughtful, and intense, and she knew, even then, that she wanted to act, not because her parents did, but because the theatre was the place where she felt most alive. The family name opened doors, and it also created expectations, and she spent her career living up to them, and then exceeding them.

She trained at the Central School of Speech and Drama in London, graduating in 1957, and she made her stage debut in 1958, in a production at the Frinton Summer Theatre, and then at the Royal Shakespeare Company, where she joined in 1961. The training was classical, rigorous, and demanding, and Redgrave thrived in it, learning voice, movement, and the repertoire of Shakespeare, Chekhov and Ibsen. She was not a star at first. She was a young actress in a company of great actors, learning her craft, one role at a time, and the discipline of those years stayed with her for the whole of her career.

The Royal Shakespeare Company in the early 1960s was the most exciting theatre in Britain, under the direction of Peter Hall, and Redgrave was at its centre, playing Rosalind in As You Like It in 1961, a performance that was praised as one of the great Shakespearean performances of the decade. Rosalind is a role that requires wit, intelligence, charm and emotional depth, and Redgrave played her with a naturalness that made the audience forget they were watching Shakespeare. The performance announced her as a major talent, and it began a stage career that would last for more than sixty years, and that would take her to the West End, to Broadway, and to theatres around the world.

Rosalind, Morgan and the Stage Star

The 1960s were the decade when Vanessa Redgrave became a star, on stage and on screen, and the roles came quickly, each one different, each one demanding. She played in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s productions, she worked in the West End, and she began to appear in films, in roles that showed her range and her intelligence. She was not a conventional leading lady. She was tall, she was serious, she was political, and she chose roles that challenged her, and that challenged the audience, rather than roles that flattered her.

Her first major film success was in Morgan: A Suitable Case for Treatment in 1966, directed by Karel Reisz, in which she played Leonie, the wife of a fantasist, played by David Warner, and the performance won her the Best Actress award at the Cannes Film Festival, the first of two Cannes wins. The film was a portrait of a marriage falling apart, and of a man who lives in a fantasy world, and Redgrave played Leonie with a tenderness and a frustration that made the audience understand both sides. The Cannes award was a recognition, and it was also a beginning, because it introduced her to an international audience, and to the film industry, as an actress of the first rank.

The same year she appeared in A Man for All Seasons, playing Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII, in a film that won the Academy Award for Best Picture, and in Blow-Up, directed by Michelangelo Antonioni, playing Jane, a mysterious woman who may or may not have witnessed a murder, in a film that became a landmark of 1960s cinema. The two roles could not have been more different: Anne Boleyn was a historical figure, a queen, a woman who is both powerful and doomed, and Jane was a modern woman, elusive, ambiguous, and unforgettable. Redgrave played both convincingly, and the year 1966 became the year when she was recognised as one of the great actresses of her generation.

The stage work continued alongside the films, and she played in productions that were as demanding as the films, including in the West End and on Broadway, and she built a reputation as an actress who could do anything, who would take on the hardest roles, and who would give them everything she had. The 1960s were a decade of freedom, of experimentation, of political engagement, and Redgrave was at the centre of it, on stage, on screen, and in public life, as an actress and as an activist, and the two were never separate for her.

Isadora, Mary Queen of Scots and the Oscar Nominations

The late 1960s and early 1970s brought Vanessa Redgrave the roles that would define her film career, and the Oscar nominations that would confirm her standing. In 1968 she played Isadora Duncan, the American dancer, in Isadora, directed by Karel Reisz, a film about a woman who was free, passionate, and doomed, and the performance won her a second Best Actress award at Cannes, and her first Academy Award nomination for Best Actress. Isadora was a difficult role, a woman who is larger than life, who dances, who loves, who loses her children, and who dies tragically, and Redgrave played her with a total commitment that left audiences breathless.

In 1971 she played Mary, Queen of Scots, in the film of the same name, opposite Glenda Jackson as Elizabeth I, in a portrait of two queens, two women, two rivals, who never meet in the film, and whose fates are intertwined. The performance earned her a second Academy Award nomination for Best Actress, and it confirmed her as one of the great screen actresses of her generation, a woman who could play a queen, a dancer, a wife, and a revolutionary, and who could make each one real. The film was a commercial success, and it remains one of the most loved historical films of its era, and Redgrave’s Mary is its heart, a woman who is proud, who is passionate, and who is doomed by her own nature.

These roles matter because they show what Redgrave does best: she plays women who are larger than life, who are passionate, who are political, who refuse to be small, and she plays them with a seriousness that makes the audience take them seriously. Isadora and Mary are not safe roles. They are dangerous, they are demanding, and they require an actress who is willing to be big, to be emotional, to be unafraid of looking foolish, and Redgrave was willing, and the performances are the proof. The Oscar nominations were the formal recognition, but the real recognition was the audience, who watched these films and remembered them, and who still watch them today.

The 1970s also brought her to the theatre in new ways, and to a political engagement that would become as famous as her acting. She joined the Workers Revolutionary Party, a Trotskyist political party, and she became a prominent supporter of Palestinian rights, a position that would cause her trouble in Hollywood, and that she has never abandoned. The politics were not a hobby. They were a conviction, and they shaped her choices, her roles, and her public life, for the rest of her career.

Julia, the Oscar and the Speech That Shook Hollywood

In 1977 Vanessa Redgrave won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for Julia, directed by Fred Zinnemann, in which she played Julia, a writer and anti-fascist who is murdered by the Nazis, and whose friend, played by Jane Fonda, tells her story. The performance was a small one, in terms of screen time, but it was unforgettable, a portrait of a woman who is brave, who is idealistic, and who dies for her beliefs, and Redgrave played her with a stillness and a power that made the audience feel the loss. The Oscar was the highest honour in film, and it was also the beginning of a controversy that would follow her for years.

The controversy came from her acceptance speech, in which she thanked the Academy, and then spoke about the “Zionist hoodlums” who had protested against her nomination because of her support for Palestinian rights, and who had, in her view, tried to intimidate the Academy. The speech was met with boos and applause, in equal measure, and it became one of the most famous Oscar speeches in history, a moment when politics and Hollywood collided on live television. Redgrave has never apologised for the speech, and she has never retracted the words, and the speech remains a defining moment in her career, a proof that she would not be silenced, even on the night of her greatest triumph.

The Oscar win also brought her trouble in Hollywood. She has said that her politics cost her work, that producers were afraid to hire her, that she was blacklisted, in effect, for her views, and that the roles she was offered became fewer and smaller. The claim is difficult to prove, and it is also difficult to dismiss, because the 1970s and 1980s were a time when political activism was not welcomed in Hollywood, and when an actress who spoke out about Palestine was taking a real risk. Whether or not the blacklist was formal, the effect was real: Redgrave worked more in Europe, more in the theatre, and less in Hollywood, and her career took a different path than it might have taken if she had stayed silent.

Julia remains one of her finest performances, and the Oscar is the formal recognition of it, but the speech is the part of the story that people remember, because it shows a woman who would not compromise, who would not be intimidated, and who would speak the truth as she saw it, even when it cost her. That is a rare quality, in Hollywood or anywhere, and it is the reason Vanessa Redgrave is respected as much for her courage as for her talent.

Howards End, The Bostonians and the Later Film Career

The 1980s and 1990s brought Vanessa Redgrave a series of film roles that showed her range and her longevity, and that earned her further Oscar nominations. In 1984 she appeared in The Bostonians, directed by James Ivory, playing Olive Chancellor, a feminist in nineteenth-century Boston, in a performance that earned her a fourth Academy Award nomination, for Best Actress. The film was a literary adaptation, based on the novel by Henry James, and Redgrave played Olive with a repression and a passion that made the character both sympathetic and troubling, a woman who loves another woman and cannot say so, in a world that does not allow it.

In 1992 she appeared in Howards End, also directed by James Ivory, playing Ruth Wilcox, the dying owner of the house that gives the film its title, in a performance that earned her a fifth Academy Award nomination, for Best Supporting Actress. Ruth is a small role, in terms of screen time, but it is the heart of the film, a woman who sees the truth about the people around her, and who tries, in her last days, to pass her house to someone who will love it. Redgrave played her with a quiet authority, a stillness, and a warmth that made the audience feel the loss when she dies, and the performance is one of the most loved in her career.

She also appeared in Mission: Impossible in 1996, playing Max, an arms dealer, in a role that introduced her to a new generation of filmgoers, and in many other films, in Europe and in America, in leading roles and in supporting roles, always with the same commitment, the same seriousness, and the same willingness to take on a difficult part. The later film career is a testament to her longevity, to her ability to keep working, to keep choosing interesting roles, and to keep surprising audiences, even after fifty years in the business.

The film career also includes her work in television, most notably in Playing for Time in 1980, a television film about the Holocaust, in which she played Fania Fénelon, a musician in Auschwitz, and for which she won the Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actress. The role was controversial, because Fénelon herself objected to Redgrave’s casting, on political grounds, and the controversy became a story in itself, but the performance was widely praised, and the Emmy was a recognition of it. The television work continued, in films and in series, and it showed that Redgrave could work in any medium, and that she brought the same seriousness to television as she brought to the stage and to film.

The Tony, the Stage and Call the Midwife

The stage has always been Vanessa Redgrave’s home, and her stage career is as distinguished as her film career. In 2003 she won the Tony Award for Best Actress in a Play for Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Eugene O’Neill’s masterpiece about a family in decline, playing Mary Tyrone, a morphine addict, a mother, a wife, a woman who is haunted by her past. The performance was widely described as one of the great stage performances of the decade, and the Tony was the formal recognition of it, and it completed her Triple Crown of acting: an Oscar, a Tony, and an Emmy, a distinction held by only a small number of performers.

She returned to Broadway in 2007 in The Year of Magical Thinking, a one-woman show based on Joan Didion’s memoir about grief, in which she played Didion herself, alone on a stage, telling the story of her husband’s death and her daughter’s illness. The performance was a tour de force, a woman, alone, speaking for two hours, holding an audience in silence, and it was praised as one of the great solo performances in Broadway history. She also appeared in Driving Miss Daisy in 2010 and 2011, opposite James Earl Jones, in a production that toured Britain and America, and that showed her ability to play comedy, warmth, and friendship, as well as tragedy.

In 2012 she began a new chapter, as the voice of the narrator in the BBC series Call the Midwife, providing the voice of the mature Jennifer Worth, looking back on her life as a midwife in the East End of London in the 1950s. The series became one of the most loved programmes on British television, watched by millions, and Redgrave’s voice, warm, wise, and reflective, became its signature, the voice that opens and closes every episode, and that gives the series its sense of memory and its sense of love. She has also appeared on screen in the series, as the older Jennifer, and the role has introduced her to a new generation of viewers, who know her as the voice of Call the Midwife, and who may not know her as the Oscar winner, the Tony winner, or the activist.

The stage and television work of her later years shows a woman who is still working, still choosing, still performing, at an age when most actors have retired. She is in her eighties, and she is still acting, still speaking, still engaged, and the longevity is extraordinary, a testament to her talent, her discipline, and her love of the work. The stage is where she began, and it is where she remains, and the audience, in the theatre and on television, is grateful for it.

Family, Loss and the Dame

Vanessa Redgrave’s family life has been as dramatic as her career, and it has been marked by love, by loss, and by a resilience that is extraordinary. She was married to the director Tony Richardson from 1962 to 1967, and they had two daughters, Natasha Richardson and Joely Richardson, both of whom became actresses. Natasha, who was a celebrated stage and film actress, died in 2009, after a skiing accident in Montreal, at the age of forty-five, a loss that devastated the family, and that Redgrave has spoken about with a grief that is still raw. The death of a child is the worst loss a parent can suffer, and Redgrave has carried it with a dignity that is heartbreaking, and with a determination to keep working, to keep living, and to honour her daughter’s memory.

She also had a son, Carlo Gabriel Nero, born in 1969, with the Italian actor Franco Nero, with whom she had a relationship in the 1960s, and whom she married in 2006, after many years apart. The marriage to Nero, after decades of separation, is a love story in itself, a reunion of two people who had loved each other, lost each other, and found each other again, and it is a reminder that Redgrave’s life, like her work, has been full of passion, of loss, and of second chances. Joely Richardson continues to act, and the Redgrave family remains one of the great acting dynasties in Britain, with three generations of performers.

In 2022 she was made a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire, becoming Dame Vanessa Redgrave, in recognition of her services to drama, an honour that came after more than sixty years on stage and screen. The honour was a formal recognition, and it was also a moment of reconciliation, a sign that the establishment, which had once been troubled by her politics, now recognised her contribution to British culture. She accepted the honour, and she continues to work, to speak, and to act, as she has always done, with the same seriousness, the same passion, and the same refusal to compromise.

The family, the loss, the honour, and the work are all part of the same story: a woman who was born into the theatre, who became one of its greatest performers, who lost a daughter, who kept working, and who is still, in her eighties, one of the most respected actresses alive. That is a life, and it is a career, and it is worth celebrating, not only for the awards, but for the resilience, the courage, and the love that made it possible.

My Take:

What I admire most about Vanessa Redgrave is the seriousness, and I want to be specific about what that seriousness means, because it is easy to say and hard to practise. She has taken the work seriously for more than sixty years, whether it is Shakespeare, or a film about a queen, or a television series about midwives, and she has brought the same preparation, the same intelligence, and the same commitment to every role. I think about how many actors would have retired, or would have taken easy roles, or would have stopped caring, and I think about how Redgrave has not, and how the work is still as good as it ever was. That is not a small thing. It is a lifetime of seriousness, and it is the reason she is still here.

I also think her family matters more than the biographies usually allow. She was born to Michael Redgrave and Rachel Kempson, she grew up backstage, she watched her parents work, and she learned that acting is a craft, a discipline, and a life. The family name opened doors, and it also created expectations, and she spent her career living up to them, and then exceeding them. I think about the pressure of being a Redgrave, of being compared to your father, to your sister, to your brother, and I think about how Vanessa handled it: by being herself, by choosing her own roles, by being political when her family was not, and by becoming, in the end, the most famous Redgrave of them all. That is a remarkable achievement, and it is one that deserves respect.

Rosalind is the role I return to most, because it was the beginning, and because it showed what she could do. She played Rosalind in As You Like It at the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1961, and the performance was praised as one of the great Shakespearean performances of the decade. Rosalind is a role that requires wit, intelligence, charm and emotional depth, and Redgrave played her with a naturalness that made the audience forget they were watching Shakespeare. I think the performance matters because it announced her, not as a star, but as an actress, a serious artist, and because it set the pattern for everything that followed: the classical roles, the demanding parts, the willingness to take on the hardest work.

Julia is the film I think about when I consider her courage, because the Oscar win was followed by a speech that shook Hollywood, and because she never apologised for it. She thanked the Academy, and she spoke about the “Zionist hoodlums” who had protested against her, and the speech was met with boos and applause, and it became one of the most famous Oscar speeches in history. I admire the courage, and I think the industry needed to hear it, because the speech was about the right to speak, about the right to hold a political view, and about the refusal to be intimidated. She has said that her politics cost her work, and whether or not that is true in a formal sense, the fact remains that she spoke, and she paid a price, and she kept speaking anyway. That is admirable, and it is rare.

Isadora is the performance I admire for its total commitment, because Isadora Duncan was a woman who was free, passionate, and doomed, and Redgrave played her with a physicality and an emotional intensity that left audiences breathless. The film won her a second Cannes Best Actress award, and her first Oscar nomination, and it confirmed her as one of the great screen actresses of her generation. I think the role matters because it shows what Redgrave does best: she plays women who are larger than life, who refuse to be small, and she plays them with a seriousness that makes the audience take them seriously. Isadora and Mary, Queen of Scots, are not safe roles. They are dangerous, and Redgrave was willing to be dangerous, and the performances are the proof.

Howards End is the film I return to most, because Ruth Wilcox is a small role, in terms of screen time, but it is the heart of the film, a woman who sees the truth about the people around her, and who tries, in her last days, to pass her house to someone who will love it. Redgrave played her with a quiet authority, a stillness, and a warmth that made the audience feel the loss when she dies, and the performance earned her a fifth Oscar nomination. I think the role matters because it shows that a great actress does not need a large part to make a large impression, and that a few scenes, played well, can carry a whole film. Ruth Wilcox is a reminder that the best acting is often the quietest, and that Redgrave understands that better than almost anyone.

The Tony Award for Long Day’s Journey Into Night is the honour I think about when I consider her stage career, because Mary Tyrone is one of the hardest roles in the theatre, a morphine addict, a mother, a wife, a woman haunted by her past, and Redgrave played her on Broadway in 2003, winning the Tony for Best Actress. The performance completed her Triple Crown, an Oscar, a Tony, and an Emmy, a distinction held by only a small number of performers, and it confirmed what the theatre world had always known: that Redgrave is, first and foremost, a stage actress, and that the stage is where she is at her best. The Year of Magical Thinking, the one-woman show she performed in 2007, is further proof, a woman, alone, speaking for two hours, holding an audience in silence.

Call the Midwife is the series I think about when I consider her later career, because it is a role that has introduced her to a new generation, as the voice of the narrator, warm, wise, and reflective, opening and closing every episode. The series is one of the most loved programmes on British television, and Redgrave’s voice is its signature, the voice that gives the series its sense of memory and its sense of love. I think the role matters because it shows that a great actress does not need to be on screen to be present, and that a voice, used well, can carry a whole series. The audience knows her voice, even if they do not know her name, and that is a different kind of fame, and a more lasting one.

The loss of Natasha is the part of the story that I find hardest to write about, because it is a loss that no parent should suffer, and because Redgrave has carried it with a dignity that is heartbreaking. Natasha Richardson died in 2009, after a skiing accident, at forty-five, and the family was devastated, and Redgrave has spoken about the grief with a honesty that is rare. I think about the courage it takes to keep working after losing a child, to keep performing, to keep living, and I think about how Redgrave has done it, not by forgetting, but by honouring her daughter’s memory, and by continuing to do the work that Natasha also loved. That is a form of resilience that deserves respect, and it is the reason her later career is as moving as her early one.

The Damehood in 2022 is the honour I think about when I consider her place in British culture, because it came after more than sixty years on stage and screen, and because it was a sign that the establishment, which had once been troubled by her politics, now recognised her contribution. She became Dame Vanessa Redgrave, and the title is fitting, because she is, in every sense, a dame of the theatre, a woman who has given her life to the art, and who has done it with seriousness, with passion, and with a refusal to compromise. I think the honour matters, not because of the title, but because of what it represents: a lifetime of work, recognised at last, by the country she has served.

What I take from the whole story, finally, is a picture of a career built on seriousness, on courage, and on a refusal to be small. Redgrave takes the work seriously, she speaks her mind, she plays women who are larger than life, and she does it with a commitment that has lasted for more than sixty years. That is a rare combination, and it is the reason her career matters beyond the awards and the acclaim. She is not only a great actress. She is a model for how to live a life in public, with honesty, with courage, and with a refusal to compromise, even when the compromise would have been easier. I expect her to keep working, and I expect the work to keep being good, because the pattern so far is that the best work is always the work she has not yet done.

If I were recommending Vanessa Redgrave to a new viewer, I would start with Howards End, because it shows her quiet power, and then I would watch Julia, because it shows her courage, and then I would watch Isadora, because it shows her passion, and then I would listen to Call the Midwife, because it shows her warmth. That is my honest path through her work, and I think it gives a new viewer the four corners of the story: the actress, the activist, the star and the voice. Each one is real, and each one is worth your time, and together they make a career that is among the finest of any actress alive.

I also think about what she means for Britain, because she is one of the great actresses of the country, and she has never hidden where she came from, or what she believes, or who she is. She is a Redgrave, she is a socialist, she is a supporter of Palestinian rights, she is a mother who lost a daughter, she is a Dame, and she is all of those things at once, without apology. That is a remarkable life, and it is a life that deserves to be celebrated, not only for the performances, but for the person behind them, who has lived with honesty, with courage, and with love.

Finally, I want to say why this story stays with me. It stays with me because it is a story about a girl who was born into the theatre, who became Rosalind, who became Isadora, who became Mary, who became Julia, who won an Oscar, who gave a speech, who won a Tony, who lost a daughter, who became the voice of Call the Midwife, and who became a Dame, and who is still working, still speaking, still acting, in her eighties. That is not a straight line. It is a winding road, and it is a road that was walked with seriousness, with courage, and with a refusal to be small. The girl from Blackheath is still walking it, and I expect the next chapter to be as interesting as the last.

I will keep listening for her voice, because it is one of the great voices of British acting, warm and wise and unmistakable, and because it has carried the stories of midwives, of queens, of dancers, and of mothers, for more than sixty years. The voice is the thread that runs through the whole career, from Rosalind to Ruth Wilcox to the narrator of Call the Midwife, and it is a voice that tells the truth, in a way that few voices do. When she speaks, I listen, and I expect to keep listening, for as long as she keeps speaking. The girl from Blackheath has become a Dame, and the Dame is still working, and the work is still worth hearing, and that is the best ending any career can have.

Frequently Asked Questions

Where did Vanessa Redgrave grow up?

She was born on 30 January 1937 in Blackheath, London, to the actors Michael Redgrave and Rachel Kempson. She trained at the Central School of Speech and Drama, graduating in 1957, and joined the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1961, where her Rosalind in As You Like It was acclaimed.

What did Vanessa Redgrave win an Oscar for?

She won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for Julia in 1977, playing Julia, a writer and anti-fascist murdered by the Nazis. She has been nominated for six Academy Awards in total, including for Isadora, Mary, Queen of Scots, The Bostonians and Howards End.

What happened during Vanessa Redgrave’s Oscar speech?

In her acceptance speech for Julia, she thanked the Academy and spoke about the “Zionist hoodlums” who had protested her nomination because of her support for Palestinian rights. The speech was met with boos and applause and became one of the most famous Oscar speeches in history.

Has Vanessa Redgrave won a Tony Award?

Yes, she won the Tony Award for Best Actress in a Play in 2003 for Long Day’s Journey Into Night, playing Mary Tyrone on Broadway. She also won an Emmy for Playing for Time in 1980, completing the Triple Crown of acting with her Oscar.

What is Vanessa Redgrave’s role in Call the Midwife?

She has been the voice of the narrator in the BBC series Call the Midwife since 2012, providing the voice of the mature Jennifer Worth looking back on her life as a midwife in 1950s East London. She has also appeared on screen in the series as the older Jennifer.

Is Vanessa Redgrave a Dame?

Yes, she was made a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire in the 2022 New Year Honours, becoming Dame Vanessa Redgrave, in recognition of her services to drama after more than sixty years on stage and screen.