Remembering Cicely

I had a whole other post ready to go and then the news came. I had recently noted that I haven’t posted much about acting or the craft, about my influences and inspirations. I sat looking at the post I’d prepared, why was I stalling? I’d checked spelling and grammar, all good. But something wasn’t sitting right. It felt disingenuous to proceed as planned, the news was momentous. The great Cicely Tyson had died at 96.

She was my first. My first cinematic role model. I don’t remember how old I was when I saw Sounder, but it was on television sometime after its theatrical release. I remember bawling like a baby. And I remember this woman, who looked like no one else I was seeing on TV; she looked like family. She was a revelation. Her performance mesmerized me, but her being captivated my imagination. The seed had been sown.

TV was forbidden on school nights but I eventually saw Roots in reruns. I remember that whatever she turned up in, it was like the arrival of royalty. I remember that she wasn’t ubiquitous. It meant something when she was in a production. She was discerning. She didn’t take what was offered, she chose what resonated with her values. She wasn’t interested in stereotypes of degradation or buffoonery. I remember A Woman Called Moses. I remember that long before Meryl Streep, hearing Cicely Tyson was in the cast made me want to watch, whatever it was. Every performance lured me closer to the craft. Early on I didn’t recognize what it was, I just fell under her spell. I never focused on “studying” her. It would have been futile anyway, because you never see her act. She inhabits. She gives life to words on a page. She becomes.

I saw her on Broadway in The Gin Game in 2016. It’s a two hander, just her and James Earl Jones. The play opens with him. He fills the stage. His voice and presence are majestic. And then she arrives on the scene. She’s a slight woman physically but she commanded that stage. She didn’t stomp or shout or do anything in particular, she just lived the life of that woman in the story. Not one false note, not one moment where I saw her act. It was a masterclass. I never took my eyes off of her. It wasn’t the kind of part that garners awards, it wasn’t harrowing or super emotional. But it was one of the finest performances I’ve seen. She was sublime.

Her autobiography has just been released. At 96. It will be moved up my reading list. I never had the pleasure of meeting her but I can’t wait to read her story in her words.