THERE IS a striking similarity in the reflections — a resonant echo recounted time and again with such specificity that it registers as far more than the automatic prattle of any half-hearted grief.
We have lost two stellar artists this week in David Bowie and Alan Rickman, London-sprung forces of nature who both died of cancer at age 69. The departures of both global stars have prompted tributes by the thousands and memories by the millions. And when you read and hear the words of those who actually knew these men, and were genuinely touched by them, one word runs through the elegies like mirrored remembrances.
Yes, terms like “talented” and “gifted,” “funny” and “charming” are repeated with common frequency. But then, we long knew all that already, and have their decades-long dossiers to remind us as we delve back into their work, embracing the ability to mourn these two silky-voiced performers through their lasting masterpieces.
Instead, the one word that keeps most illuminating these men, to me, is “generous.” Not with their riches in this case — though both men gave in that regard, too — but rather their personal investment. Time and again, to their fellow creatives, Bowie and Rickman donated their time, and attention, and the act of connection — the present warmth of an inspiring light.
In tribute, Daniel Radcliffe wrote on social media this week of Rickman’s generosity not only while they were making the Harry Potter films — of how the elder actor treated the boy performer with supportive encouragement and respect — but also in the years since, when the classically trained great would readily come see his young peer perform.
“I’m pretty sure he came and saw everything I ever did on stage both in London and New York. He didn’t have to do that,” Radcliffe wrote in describing Rickman’s loyal friendship. “I know other people who’ve been friends with him for much much longer than I have and they all say, ‘If you call Alan, it doesn’t matter where in the world he is or how busy he is with what he’s doing, he’ll get back to you within a day.’ ”
Sir Ian McKellen likewise called his friend Rickman “generous.” And journalist Katharine Viner, with whom Mr. Rickman collaborated on the play “My Name Is Rachel Corrie,” wrote in the Guardian: “He was devoted to a large number of people and would somehow always manage to visit their obscure art exhibition, or phone them at 2 a.m. when he heard they were in deep trouble, or attend their opening night even when, as we now know, he was already seriously ill.”
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