It is the days between Christmas and New Year (specifically, 2024-12-28), and I am met with the news that Olivia Hussey has died—a timing that feels very odd: I associate her very strongly with three works that I have seen several times each, two of which have a strong Christmas resp. New Year’s connection to me. This while the third shows her onscreen death as a young girl, and she has now died in real life as an oldish woman.
The first is the 1982 “Ivanhoe” (a better effort than the more famous 1952 version), in which she played Rebecca, the Jewish girl who, inadvertently, so steals the heart of a knight templar (Sam Neill) that he also loses his head, and chaos, kidnapping, accusations of witchcraft, trial by combat, whatnot, follow. (As will be seen below, there cannot have been many women who could have been more convincing in that regard than Olivia Hussey.)
In a quirk, this adaptation has become a Swedish New Year’s tradition, and I associate it very strongly with exactly the New Year. (This connection is, of course, very specific to Sweden.) Maybe, the more so because my attempts at watching it were thwarted so often when I was a kid: After my first watching, I was highly impressed, especially with all the battle scenes in a day when there were so few movies that attempted something similar, and I looked forward to the next opportunity to watch it over several years—and it took several years before I actually had the chance, because something always came up, New Year after New Year, including at least one case of so bad weather that there was no TV reception.
The second is more internationally understandable, as she played Mary, Mother of God, in “Jesus of Nazareth”, and as Christmas is celebrated in honor of Mary giving birth to Jesus. (Well, on paper, at least.) In all fairness, the focus of the mini-series is more on the Easter events, but my thoughts might be forgiven for a focus on the Christmas angle, the news coming so shortly after Christmas.
(In a twist, she also played the mother of Norman Bates, in flashbacks, in “Psycho IV”.)
The third? Zeffirelli’s “Romeo and Juliet”, where she gave the best Juliet that I have ever seen. Better actresses have played the part, but sheer charm and realistic youthfulness made her unsurpassable. (And for someone just 16, give or take, it was by no means a bad performance either.)
I first watched this movie in a high-school English class—and was blown away. The combination of acting, poetry, action scenes, and music was an incredible experience. Alone the score and “What Is a Youth” makes it worth watching. Among many strong performances, we have Olivia as a perfect Juliet, a young Michael York as Tybalt, and John McEnerey as a quirky-yet-unforgettable Mercutio. (Outside the main love story, the interactions between the latter are particularly noteworthy, including an impromptu bath and a fight that does not seem to make up its mind whether it is all a big joke or an attempt at killing, until that scratch that turns everything into tragedy—“A plague on both your houses!”.) Even Laurence Olivier gets a few words in.
I was not just blown away by the movie—I was head over heels in love with Juliet/Olivia. More, one of my classmates, unprompted, outright said that he was in love—and a series of “me too” followed from others. (“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it sight, for I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”)
I have watched this particular adaptation at least half a dozen times over the (more than thirty) years since then. Every time, I have come away with an infatuation.
And this has not even been limited to “Romeo and Juliet”, as I have had the same type of feelings watching “Ivanhoe” and (to a lesser degree) almost any of my sightings of her—she was not just extraordinarily charming on screen (I have never met her in real life) but might at her height, maybe during the “Jesus of Nazareth” and “Ivanhoe” years, have been the most beautiful woman in the world. Elizabeth Taylor, the 1952 Rebecca, had nothing on her.
(With “Ivanhoe”, I speak of some few watchings in my teens and adulthood. I did recognize her great beauty even as a child, however.)
It might seem natural to conclude with a quote from the play “Romeo and Juliet”, where so much hinges on the death of Juliet, first apparent (“Then I defy you, stars!”) then real (“O happy dagger!”), but some lines from “What Is a Youth” seem more apposite:
A rose will bloom
It then will fade
So does a youth
So does the fairest maid
And, not to forget:
Death will come soon to hush us along
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