Ronald Colman was born on February 9, 1891 in Richmond, Surrey, England. He was the fifth of six children (three daughters and three sons; the oldest son dying at age 5). His parents were Charles and Marjory Fraser Colman.
Charles Colman was a fairly well-to-do silk importer, and Marjory, who was of Scottish descent, engaged herself in home duties. Young Ronald was sent to Hadley boarding school in Littlehampton. He was a quiet boy, introspective and somewhat solitary, showing courtesy and breeding far beyond his years.
… More
When Ronald was 16 his father died, putting an end to the boy's plans to attend Cambridge and become an engineer. He went to work as a shipping clerk at the British Steamship Company, at a weekly salary of 15 shillings. In a period of five years he worked his way up to book-keeper and then accountant. Not surprisingly, Colman found these years tedious, and felt "very lonely, very desolate, and rather friendless."
The tedium was relieved somewhat when he joined the London Scottish Regionals, an army territorial force. There he found an escape from office work, as well as new camaraderie with his fellow soldiers. He also began to take part in amateur theatricals, performing a variety of roles with the Bancroft Dramatic Society.
In 1914, when Colman was 23 years old, England went to war with Germany. Colman's London Scottish regiment was among the first 100,000 English soldiers sent to France to fight. Colman took part in the first Battle Of Ypres and was severely wounded at the battle at Messines. The shrapnel wounds he took to his legs invalided him out of active service. In May, 1915, decorated, discharged and depressed, he returned home.
"When I came back to England my whole world had changed," Colman later said. "I had to have a job; so did thousands of other men just like me. Jobs were hard to find. The only thing I knew anything about was amateur theatricals. So I turned to the stage. I took anything I could get and that was very little." (It is interesting to note that Colman had ruled out bookkeeping and accounting jobs altogether.) Though it may not have seemed so at the time, he had just made a momentous decision, one that would change his life (and the lives of many others) forever.
Producers began to notice Colman in the small acting parts he was able to get - they found in him a young actor with striking good looks, a rich voice and a dignity that was rare in one so young. He worked with stage greats Gladys Cooper and Gerald DuMaurier, gaining invaluable experience. Acting lifted his spirits and cut through his natural reserve, making him more extroverted. As he put it, "One can be someone else, in another, more dramatic, more beautiful world."
Colman's first film work came in 1917. He was invited to do a two-reel comedy 'The Live Wire' - the set was an old house, the budget was negligible, and Colman doubled as the leading character and prop man. For the next three years he would divide his time between stage and rather primitive British film efforts. Colman liked the extra income that film work provided, but still his future lay on the stage.
In 1919, after a brief courtship, he married an actress named Thelma Raye. The marriage was in trouble almost from the beginning - Raye, a somewhat domineering young woman, made the mistake of taking her husband's gentleness as malleability - her attempts at control were not a success. The two separated in 1923 but were not divorced until 1934. Unfortunately, Thelma was not the type to let go easily, and she would continue to plague Colman for many years. This dreadful experience greatly contributed to Colman's pronounced reticence regarding relationships.
A post World War One depression in England made work almost impossible to find, so in October of 1920 Colman headed across the Atlantic to America, with a change of clothes and seven pounds to his name. "To be penniless in a powerful city like New York is one of the worst experiences in the life of a man," Colman said later. "I tramped the streets, going from studio to studio. I could not get work as an extra, so I tried the stage doors." He did find a few walk-on roles, but he was reduced to sleeping on park benches and practically starved to death.
Gradually he began to obtain small film roles from the New York studios as well - his first one a programmer with the amazing title of 'Handcuffs Or Kisses?' He also was in a play that toured all the way to Hollywood, California. While there, Colman visited agents' offices but to no avail.
In the autumn of 1922 he landed a good part at last, that of 'the other man' in a triangle story called 'La Tendresse'. Critics singled him out as giving a 'fine, direct performance', and at last he began to be noticed.
Director Henry King and his star, Lillian Gish, saw Colman's performance in 'La Tendresse' and knew immediately that they had found the leading man for their film 'The White Sister'. After a screen test Colman was offered the part of Captain Giovanni Severi - needless to say, he accepted. The film was a tremendous break for Colman - he was co-starring with with one of the greatest silent film actresses of the time, Lillian Gish, and under skilful direction by Mr. King. The film, shot on location in Italy and Algeria, was a romantic tear-jerker that was wildly popular; Colman was quickly proclaimed a new screen star.
Samuel Goldwyn beckoned next; Goldwyn was a prominent independent film producer who had a knack for making movie stars. Colman accepted Goldwyn's offer to make a film and made a second trip to Hollywood - it was to be very different from his first visit.
Goldwyn signed his new star to a long-term contract in May of 1924. It was the beginning of a collaboration that would last ten years and produce eighteen movies. In a Hollywood of Fairbanks and Valentino, Chaplin and Clara Bow and the Barrymores, Colman would become a top star of silent films.
The film that cemented this position was 1926's 'Beau Geste', the rousing tale of three brothers who join the Foreign Legion to escape the law; it was full of mystery, desert action, intrigue and above all, brotherly loyalty. Colman's gentlemanly courage and quiet strength were showcased to perfection in the role of the oldest brother, Beau. The film was one of the top money-makers of the silent era and is still referred to as possibly the greatest Foreign Legion film ever produced.
Film teams were the rage, and Goldwyn found a cinematic partner for Colman in Vilma Banky. The two would make five films together and their popularity rivalled that of other romantic film couples like Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell, and Greta Garbo and John Gilbert.
In 1927 came an event that revolutionized the movie industry; Warner Brothers released 'The Jazz Singer' with portions of synchronized dialogue and songs, and suddenly silent films were outmoded. The coming of sound was to ruin many a top star's career - many foundered because their speaking voices or thick accents did not compare to audience's preconceived notions. Not so for Ronald Colman; if anything he became even more popular - his modulated voice and British accent not only met but exceeeded his public's expectations.
Early sound films were hampered by technical difficulties - the huge camera had to be encased in a large soundproof box and movement was limited, unwieldy microphones hidden amidst the scenery drew actors into static clusters to say their lines - but within a few short years these problems were overcome and the movie industry blossomed as never before.
Colman's first talkie was 1929's 'Bulldog Drummond', for which he received a Best Actor Oscar nomination. In addition to his cultured voice, Colman's acting had always been more restrained than some of the more flamboyant histrionics seen on the silent screen - overly dramatic gestures and facial expressions that had seemed appropriate without dialogue were laughed off the screen with the coming of sound.
In the early 1930's, producer Sam Goldwyn decided Colman was too big a star to 'overexpose' and limited him to one film a year. Colman therefore had time to enjoy his hard-earned success. He took a world cruise, joined partway by good friend Richard Barthelmess.
Goldwyn's next publicity stunt definitely backfired; he authorized press releases saying Colman needed a few drinks to sustain his acting - something that may have well applied to quite a few of his colleagues, but was not the case for Colman. He understandably took offence at Goldwyn's little plan, sued his boss for a couple of million dollars and vowed not to work for him again. The case was settled out of court, but Colman asked for and received a release from his contract with Goldwyn. Thus ended a decade that had been highly profitable for both producer and star. Colman soon became one of just a handful of top stars to successfully freelance, picking and choosing his assignments and studios.
The mid-30's were to bring some of Colman's finest work - Dickens' 'A Tale Of Two Cities', Anthony Hope's swashbuckling adventure 'The Prisoner Of Zenda', Frank Capra's poetic 'Lost Horizon', cs that live to this day.
During the filming of 'A Tale Of Two Cities' Colman was introduced to young actress Benita Hume. Colman's reluctance to become involved disappeared and the two became inseparable.
Colman also purchased a home in Beverly Hills not far from the palatial Pickfair, home of screen legends Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks; another investment was a 67-foot yacht, The Dragoon, on which he could relax with good pals Barthelmess and William Powell.
By the time she had known him for three years, Benita Hume had become convinced that her constant companion did not appear to be interested in marriage and she departed on a New York bound train; she made it as far as Albuquerque, New Mexico where she received a telegram: "Come home and let's get married." No signature was needed.
The two were married at a ranch in San Ysidro, California, in September, 1938 - the new Mrs. Colman would later remark, "Imagine! I not only have that beautiful man, but that voice!" Theirs was a happy marriage, lasting for 20 years.
World War II found Colman tirelessly involved in British War Relief, radio appearances, and cross-country bond tours.
In 1942, following a pair of rather inconsequential comedies, Colman made two of his very best films - 'Talk Of The Town', in which he took third billing (but certainly not third place) to those reigning stars of comedy, Cary Grant and Jean Arthur; and 'Random Harvest', the granddaddy of all romantic tearjerkers done with impeccable and co-starring the luminous Greer Garson. If America had a royal couple, they should look like Colman and Garson.
In 1944, at the age of 53, Colman became the proud father of Juliet Benita. She was to be the Colman's only child and was, of course, the apple of her father's eye.
After the end of World War II, Colman's film-making pace slackened. He told reporters, "It's 22 years since I made 'The White Sister' and that's a long time. I'm not ambitious to make too many pictures today; I am guided entirely by the character of the stories which come to me from the studio."
In 1948 Colman starred in his last major motion picture, 'A Double Life'. Departing somewhat from his gentlemanly screen persona, Colman gave a stunning performance as an actor tormented by mental demons - and won the year's Best Actor Academy Award.
Throughout the 1950's Colman made many radio appearances, as guest star and also on his own show 'The Halls Of Ivy', in which he starred with Benita. The show was a light comedy about an absent-minded professor's ordeals on a college campus; it was highly successful and was on the air for three years, later moving to television for a time.
The Colmans lived quietly on their San Ysidro ranch property during the last years of Colman's life. Always prone to lung ailments, Colman contracted pneumonia and died peacefully in his sleep on May 19, 1958, his wife at his side.
His passing was also the passing of an era - one of a different code of honour, ideals and humour that we will lnot see again. We can be grateful to The Dream Factory that was Hollywood, for through the magic of cinematic shadows and light we need never be without the poetic grace that was Ronald Colman.
"Our revels now are ended.
These our actors,
As I foretold you,
Were all spirits,
And are melted into air,
Into thin air;
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on;
And our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."
albowlly
Jaxiecracks
bender21345
