‘He was so intense and captivating while filming’
My physics teacher took us to see him in The Life of Galileo at the National Theatre in 1980, such a profound experience that saw me end up both as a physics teacher and an actor. I still have the script book in my library. I once had the great privilege of appearing in the TV series Perfect Strangers with him. I was playing a hotel employee and, my claim to fame, was directed by Stephen Poliakoff to laugh at a joke as he gave a speech at a scene set at a family wedding reception. This is a story I frequently bore friends and family with. He was so intense and captivating while filming that scene. A marvellous actor who turned every performance into a masterpiece. David Jefferies, 59, actor and former teacher, Norfolk
‘Friendly and humble’
Michael was friendly and humble when I met him a few years ago. I was working on the very old boilers at chez Gambon, a gigantic house in Kent. Michael was there, a top bloke although looking a bit haggard, it being the morning. He told me how he arrived in Camden (a rough area back then) as a small boy from Ireland, and how he and his pals would often walk down to Tottenham Court Road of an evening to listen to how upper class people spoke in the hope of thus acquiring “a posh English accent”. We had a cup of tea, I asked for and received a signed photograph of the great man, and then I was on my way. Paul Corcoran, plumber and gas engineer, London
‘Too much me in just one room’
While I was working as an usher at the BFI in the 2010s, we had a Dennis Potter season and in the middle of a screening of The Singing Detective (where two versions of Gambon’s character were on screen) the actual Michael Gambon walked in late at the back of the cinema. I asked him if he’d like to take a seat, to which he replied: “No, no, thank you – that would be too much me in just one room.” Matt, 44, actor, London
‘I was a stage manager on one of his plays. He was a joy’
I was stage manager on a play in the late 1980s called Veterans Day at the Theatre Royal Haymarket. It was a two-hander starring Michael Gambon and Jack Lemmon. They were both funny and charming and I remember Michael, during a tea break, acknowledging that the play probably wouldn’t run very long (it didn’t), but saying that he would “sit and read the telephone directory if it meant working with Jack”. He used to shout funny things at me from his dressing room window – such as, “oh no, she’s here again, don’t let her in” as I arrived, or “follow her to the pub, she’s buying” as I was leaving. He was a joy, totally unique, and a genius. It was a pleasure to be with two superb actors. Such a shame they are both gone. Liz McAndrew, shop worker and former stage manager, Whitby
‘He owned the Olivier stage’
For me, he was primarily a stage actor. I first saw him as Roderigo in Peter Hall’s production of Othello and also as Galileo in his “breakthrough” performance. He owned the Olivier stage with quiet authority and he was even better in Tales from Hollywood. In his early days with the National he was listed as Mike Gambon. Apparently, when he was in A View from the Bridge, he and Arthur Miller shared their love of carpentry and cabinet making, to the frustration of those who wanted them to talk about drama. Donald Anderson, retired teacher, Kettering
‘The kindest gentleman I’ve met in show business’
I took up dog walking in retirement and ended up looking after the pug beloved of Michael’s young boys. He was the most welcoming and kind gentleman I’ve met in show business. I was told he wanted me to come backstage when I was to see him in the revival of his friend Harold Pinter’s No Man’s Land. I thought this might just have been out of politeness, but as soon as I arrived at the stage door I was ushered past lots of posh folk and into his dressing room, where I heard his unmistakable tones: “Sandy! Is that you?” I sat with Michael and his dresser as he asked me what I thought of the play, showing genuine interest in my opinions.
Later, I saw him after a matinee of Krapp’s Last Tape, when he came outside to the coffee bar next to the theatre. A whole bus queue opposite applauded spontaneously, and he gave a courteous bow. I remember walking down the street with him when he was accosted by a young man who wanted a photograph and cheekily put his arm around his shoulders. Michael tolerated this with good humour and had me take the shot. I’ve seen him talk about losing his temper on set, but I never saw that side of him. I’m so glad I was acquainted with him. Never to be forgotten. Anonymous, London
‘I was moved to tears’
The first time I saw Michael Gambon was on stage as Galileo and, of course, I have enjoyed his performances in The Singing Detective, Harry Potter and especially Maigret. However, I was moved to tears by his heartbreaking scene as Tom Hollander’s father in a BBC production of Wives and Daughters. I have never forgotten it. Rosemary, Edinburgh
