Bernard Hill

When Bernard Hill gives an order, he sounds as though further discussion would be unwelcome. As Captain Smith in James Cameron’s Titanic (1997), he allows a little pomposity into the sternness, making the man fallible without making him ridiculous. We warmed to him because Hill makes the captain’s decency just as apparent. He supplies a recognisable person without asking Cameron to make him the centre of the film. It is a small but important contribution to a spectacle that works because the people matter.

The breakthrough had been much less comfortable. In Alan Bleasdale’s Boys from the Blackstuff (1982), Yosser Hughes gave Hill a part built around desperation, with an intensity that did not conceal the man’s vulnerability. The later captains and kings could seem a long way from that rawness. What connects them is Hill’s willingness to let a forceful man look as though he might not cope.

Peter Jackson makes particularly good use of that in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003), with Hill returning as Théoden after The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002). His speeches have the formality the fantasy requires, yet he can give them force without making the king’s resolve seem effortless. He leaves room for doubt. Jackson’s finale sometimes takes longer than it needs to, but Hill helps make its demands on an evening reasonable. We can believe that people would follow this king without needing to believe that he is always right.

The limitation was often the size of the part. Some effects-driven productions, including The Scorpion King (2002), had less use for the vulnerability than for the ready-made authority. In those parts, the sternness can grow predictable. For Hill with enough to do, take the longer evening with Jackson.