Okay, so let's unpack this right away. I want
you to picture a young boy, not even four years
old yet, sleeping under a heavy steel plate in
his own home. Wow. Just right there in the house.
Yeah, exactly. A makeshift metal shelter indoors
because outside the world is quite literally
tearing itself apart. It's the height of World
War II. Right. The bombs of the Blitz are falling
all across Britain. And this child's daily reality
is just, you know, defined by air raid sirens,
total blackouts, and this piece of steel. Which
is terrifying to even think about. It is. And
the craziest part is he didn't know anything
else. There's this documented moment where he
realizes, but only after the war ended, that
the world wasn't actually supposed to be exploding
all the time. He actually said that he thought
war was just normal life. Man, that really forces
you to consider what happens to a developing
brain when its baseline for normal is, well,
existential threat. Yeah, exactly. When a child's
formative years are steeped in that kind of societal
destruction, they gain a very stark, very early
understanding of the fragility of human existence.
They have to, you're right, just to cope. Exactly.
You are exposed to the absolute extremes of human
behavior, fear, destruction, survival, before
you even know how to read. Well, that little
boy sleeping under the steel plate didn't just
survive that environment. He grew up to be a
Shakespearean king. He certainly did. He became
a comic book super villain, a globally beloved
cinematic wizard, and honestly, a fiercely unapologetic
cultural icon. Welcome to today's Deep Dive.
I'm really looking forward to this one. Me too.
Our mission today for you, the listener, is to
explore the biographical notes and the sprawling
career records of Sir Ian McKellen. Sir Ian.
A legend. Truly. But we aren't just reading down
his resume here. We are unpacking how early adversity,
combined with this absolute refusal to compromise
his authenticity, fueled one of the most uniquely
resilient and late -blooming careers in modern
history. And we are going to connect the dots
between those highly rigorous classical theatrical
roots he has and his eventual global pop culture
dominance. Because it's a wild trajectory. It
really is. The path he took to get there completely
defies the traditional mechanics of the entertainment
industry. I mean, he didn't adapt to Hollywood.
He basically forced Hollywood to understand his
language. That's a great way to put it. Let's
start with that early foundation, because, you
know, the tragedy didn't just stop with the blitz
for him. It was born in 1939 in Lancashire, moved
to Wigan, and after surviving the war, he faced
some really intense personal grief. His mother
died of breast cancer when he was just 12. Oh,
wow. That's incredibly young. It is. And then
he lost his father when he was only 25. So he
was surrounded by profound loss before he even
truly reached full adulthood. Which, as tragic
as it is, is a critical mechanism for his future
craft. How so? Well, to play tragedy convincingly
on a stage, an actor really has to understand
it on a cellular level. You have to know what
the physical weight of grief feels like. Right,
when the bottom just drops out of your world.
Exactly. That early exposure to conflict and
loss created this profound emotional reservoir
for him. When he eventually steps onto a stage
to play, like a broken king or a tortured soul,
he isn't having to invent the feeling of despair.
He's drawing from a well of lived understanding.
Right. He understands the precariousness of life.
He developed his theatrical imagination not just
as a fun hobby, but almost as a survival tool
to process an inherently unstable world. I really
love that point. It's almost like that steel
plate was a literal cocoon for him. He was shielded
from a world tearing itself apart, but it also
incubated this massive imagination. That's a
really great analogy. And he had a fascinating
family lineage backing up that survival instinct
too. His great great grandfather Robert J. Lowe's
was a major campaigner for the Saturday half
holiday in Manchester. Wait, really? Yeah. He
basically helped invent the modern weekend. That
is incredible. I had no idea. It's wild. And
add to that his upbringing. His father was a
lay preacher, but the home was strictly non -orthodox.
The focus wasn't on rigid dogma or rules. What
was it on then? It was entirely on treating everyone
with Christian behavior, you know, empathy and
action over preaching. Ah, well, you can see
the through line there immediately. Right. There
is a generational precedent for challenging the
status quo and championing the working class.
That non -orthodox upbringing taught him to prioritize
human connection over institutional rules. Which
totally becomes the defining characteristic of
his later activism and his approach to those
really controversial characters he plays. Absolutely.
So that non -conformist spirit translated to
the stage almost instantly. His parents had taken
him to see Peter Pan when he was three and by
nine he was directing plays on this little fold
away Victorian toy theater. And he gets to Cambridge
in 1958 and just consumes the theatrical world.
He performs in 23 plays in three years. 23 plays.
That's an insane workload for a student. It really
is. But working with directors like Peter Hall
and John Barton at Cambridge, that was a crucible
for him. He was mastering the absolute mechanical
precision of his craft there. Like the technical
stuff. Yeah, breath control, vocal resonance,
the intellectual deconstruction of really dense
texts. And he immediately weaponized those skills
to push boundaries. I mean, in 1969, he has a
massive breakthrough playing the lead in Christopher
Marlowe's Edward II. Oh, that was a huge moment.
It caused an absolute storm of protest because
of the lurid death scene of the homosexual king,
he completely refused to sanitize the classical
text for polite society. He brought a very raw,
unapologetic truth to it. He did. Fast forward
to 1980, and he's winning a Tony on Broadway
for playing Antonio Solieri in Amadeus. He is
just dominating the international stage. He's
at the top of his game. But let's look at 1995,
because this is where his career mechanics get
super fascinating. He co -writes an adaptation
of Shakespeare's Richard III. Such a brilliant
adaptation, by the way. It is. He sets it in
a fictional 1930s fascist Britain. He's the star.
He's the executive producer. And at the end of
the shoot, they run out of money for the final
battle scene. Oh, no. Yeah. So he returns his
50 ,000 pound fee just to finish the film. Wait,
he essentially financed his own artistic vision
out of pocket. Exactly. Here's where it gets
really interesting. The film critic Roger Ebert
praised the adaptation, specifically noting that
McCallan brought a pitiable malevolence to the
villain. Pitiable malevolence. That's a perfect
description. He played Richard as a man who is
entirely self -aware of his own evil and the
price he's eventually going to pay for it. But
I struggle to buy the traditional narrative here.
I mean, if I'm a Hollywood studio executive in
the mid 90s and An actor pitching a self -funded
1930s fascist adaptation of a Shakespeare play
sounds like absolute box office poison. Oh, 100%.
It's a massive gamble. Right. We usually think
of stage actors waiting to be discovered by Hollywood
for a mainstream role. How did an artsy passion
project actually convince Hollywood that he could
lead a global blockbuster? It was all because
of the visual language he used. He didn't just
film a stage play with guys standing around in
tights reciting Old English. Right. That would
have been boring for a film audience. Exactly.
He wrapped the most complex language in the theatrical
canon in a visually stunning cinematic fascist
aesthetic. You know, tanks, uniforms, massive
architectural set pieces. It felt like an action
movie. It did. And think about the soliloquies
in Richard III. They involve the character speaking
directly to the audience, pulling them into his
conspiracy. McKellen translated that directly
to the camera lens. Oh, wow. That's smart. He
showed Hollywood executives that he commanded
the screen with the exact same authority that
a modern action villain requires. He didn't ask
Hollywood for permission. He built a cinematic
calling card. Yes. He proved his classical mastery
could scale to massive theatrical set pieces.
So he basically forces them to meet him on his
turf. Which sets up the most unexpected pivot
imaginable. The blockbuster era. Yeah. Having
conquered the classical world and made his mark
in indie film, he suddenly becomes the face of
the world's biggest blockbuster franchises. And
he's in his 60s when this happens. Which is entirely
counterintuitive to how aging in the entertainment
industry usually works. Usually rolls dry up.
Right. And he almost completely missed the boat
entirely. Earlier in his career, his friend Patrick
Stewart was offered the role of Captain Picard
on Star Trek, The Next Generation. Oh, I love
this story. McKellen strongly advised him not
to take it. He told him not to throw away a respected
theatrical career for an American television
show. Which is hilarious in hindsight. He later
cheerfully admitted that was the worst advice
he ever gave. A rare miscalculation, for sure.
But one he clearly learned from. Definitely.
Because in 1999, director Bryan Singer casts
him as the mutant supervillain Magneto in X -Men.
Such perfect casting. And right as he's filming
that, Peter Jackson casts him as the wizard Gandalf
in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Back -to -back
iconic roles. Yeah. He even gets the Elvish number
nine tattooed on his shoulder with the rest of
the fellowship cast. And he navigates these massive
press tours with this incredibly dry wit. He's
so funny in interviews. Like when religious groups
demanded the Da Vinci Code carry a fiction disclaimer
in 2006, he calmly suggested the Bible should
have a fiction disclaimer in the front too. He
added that he thought audiences were bright enough
to separate fact and fiction. He just doesn't
care. He really doesn't. So what does this all
mean? He becomes a global action and fantasy
superstar at an age when most actors are looking
toward retirement. It's like spending 40 years
studying classical architecture, only to suddenly
become the world's most famous Lego master. That's
brilliant. But how does that classical training
actually translate to acting opposite a tennis
ball on a green screen? Yeah, how does that work?
That is where the mechanics of his stage training
become vital. Consider a Shakespearean actor's
breath control. Okay. They are trained to carry
a single thought through five lines of dense
iambic pentameter and they're projecting to the
back of a 1500 seat theater while making it sound
like natural conversation. That's incredibly
difficult. It is. So when you take an actor with
that specific vocal resonance and drop him onto
a CGI bridge to yell, you shall not pass. He
doesn't sound ridiculous. He sounds mythic. He
grounds the fantasy. Exactly. He makes the fictional
lore of Middle Earth sound like ancient, indisputable
history. And with Magneto, he's playing a guy
in a cape who controls metal. I mean, it could
easily be a cartoon. But he doesn't play the
cartoon. Look at the psychology of Magneto. He
is a mutant who is marginalized and persecuted
by society for who he inherently is. Right. He's
an outsider. And the character is a Holocaust
survivor whose worldview that humanity will always
destroy what it doesn't understand is internally
logical to him. It makes sense to him. Right.
If we connect this to the bigger picture, McKellen
brought a profound understanding of alienation
to that role as a gay man. He didn't treat comic
book material as beneath him. He treated Magneto
with the exact same psychological rigor as Macbeth.
Which brings us to a parallel track of his life
that heavily informs that sense of alienation.
While he was playing the societal outsiders on
screen, he was stepping into the light as an
advocate in his real life. A huge turning point
for him. Up until 1988, he was out to fellow
actors, but not to the general public. But then
politics forced his hand. because the late 1980s
were a highly volatile time in British politics
regarding civil rights. Right. In 1988, British
politics reached a boiling point with the proposal
of Section 28. Now we should note, as we're looking
at the historical context from our sources here,
Section 28 was legislation aimed at prohibiting
local authorities from promoting homosexuality.
Yes. And just to be clear for you listening,
We are impartially reporting the contents of
the historical text and his reactions here without
endorsing any political viewpoints. But regardless
of where one stood politically, for McKellen,
this was an absolute line in the sand. It was
a direct threat to his community. Exactly. He
decided to come out publicly on a BBC radio program
specifically to protest the legislation. He realized
that adding his name and his growing public profile
to the campaign might offer comfort to others.
It demonstrated that it was possible to live
openly. He stopped compartmentalizing his life.
He did. And he didn't just speak on the radio,
he actively lobbied the government. There's this
brilliant anecdote where he goes to visit Michael
Howard, the environment secretary at the time,
to lobby against the bill. Oh, this is legendary.
Howard refused to change his position, but as
McKellen was leaving... Howard asked for an autograph
for his children. The audacity. Right. And McKellen
signed it. Fuck off. I'm gay. It is pure unfiltered
defiance. It really is. Following that period,
he co -founded Stonewall, which is the prominent
LGBT rights lobby group in the UK. And his philosophy
on activism is highly strategic. How so? Well,
he focuses almost exclusively on gay rights.
He stated that he doesn't want to dilute the
impact of his core message by constantly lobbying
on every other issue he cares about. whether
that's religion or nuclear weapons. Ah, keeping
the main thing the main thing. Exactly. He maintains
a laser focus to maximize his impact. But let's
look at the timing of that BBC radio interview.
He was 49 years old, he was a highly respected
stage actor, but right on the precipice of broader
film fame. True. Hollywood in the late 80s was
incredibly rigid about its leading men. Wasn't
he essentially throwing a grenade at his own
emerging film career by coming out so publicly
at that exact moment? This raises an important
question about authenticity. On paper, yeah,
it was an immense professional risk. The conventional
wisdom of the era dictated that being an openly
gay leading man would alienate mainstream audiences.
Right. That was the fear. But this reveals a
fascinating paradox about authenticity and artistic
performance. His career didn't end. It exploded
globally. It totally did. But why? The reason
for that is deeply psychological. When an actor
spends a massive amount of internal energy hiding
a fundamental part of their identity, it creates
an invisible barrier. Oh, that makes sense. It
requires constant self -monitoring, which takes
a huge psychological toll. Once McKellen removed
that barrier, all that misdirected energy was
channeled directly into his craft. Wow. He noted
later when speaking about coming out to his stepmother
that he was just glad he wasn't lying anymore.
Exactly that. The absence of that lie allowed
his performances to become freer and more deeply
rooted in truth. The authenticity he finally
embraced in his personal life translated into
this undeniable relaxed magnetism on screen.
He proved that leaning into your absolute truth
rather than carefully managing a public facade,
is actually the greatest asset an artist can
possess. And the momentum from that liberation
just hasn't stopped. Which brings us to the final
chapter of our deep dive. the unstoppable octogenarian.
I love this era of his life. The stamina he forged
under those WWII steel plates seems to be propelling
him through his 80s. He absolutely refuses to
slow down. If anything, his choices have become
more eclectic and demanding. I mean, he isn't
just coasting on legacy cameos. Not at all. Just
look at the seamless genre hopping. In 2015,
he reunites with director Bill Condon for Mr.
Holmes. He delivers this deeply nuanced quiet
performance as a 93 old Sherlock Holmes whose
mind is failing. Beautiful film. And then two
years later he's doing voiceover as a talking
clock, Cogsworth, in Disney's live -action Beauty
and the Beast. Talk about range. Meanwhile he's
starring in an ITV sitcom called Vicious with
Derek Jacoby playing a bickering elderly gay
couple. And the thing is he approaches the sitcom
with the exact same commitment to the text as
he does to a classic tragedy. That's what makes
it so good. And he never left the stage either.
In 2021, at the age of 82, he plays the title
role in an age -blind production of Hamlet. an
82 -year -old Hamlet. It's unbelievable. And
the physical toll of theater is real. In 2024,
during a West End run of Player Kings, where
he was playing Falstaff, he fell off the front
of the stage during a fight scene. Oh, that was
terrifying when that news broke. The show was
canceled and the audience was dismissed, but
he miraculously recovered, was reported to be
in good spirits shortly after, and simply moved
on. Even though medical advice forced him to
pull out of the rest of the run, he is practically
indestructible. He really embodies the ethos
of the poet Dylan Thomas. Do not go gentle into
that good night. He is actively raging against
the dying of the light through pure creative
output. And the pipeline of that output is staggering.
He is looking ahead to reprising his role as
Magneto in Avengers Doomsday, which is slated
for 2026. Amazing. And returning as Gandalf in
The Hunt for Gollum in 2027, he will be pushing
90 years old, actively anchoring the world's
most lucrative, physically demanding cinematic
universes. It's unheard of. But amidst all this
high stakes global blockbuster work, there is
this brilliantly quirky side. Since 2021, he
and ABBA member Bjorn Ulvaeus have been posting
social media videos of themselves knitting Christmas
jumpers together. I've seen those. They even
agreed to knit stage wear for Kylie Minogue's
Las Vegas residency. OK, wait. A knight of the
realm, Magneto Gandalf, spending his downtime
knitting with ABBA for Kylie Minogue. It's the
best thing ever. It completely shatters every
pretentious stereotype of what a serious classical
actor is supposed to act like in their Twilight
years. What we're witnessing is a master class
and living joyfully and without pretense. He
takes his craft incredibly seriously. Right,
the work itself. Yes, the preparation, the respect
for the text, the physical performance that is
sacred terrain for him. But he clearly never
takes himself too seriously. Not for a second.
He has completely stripped away the ego of the
great actor archetype. He is simply enjoying
the process of creating, whether that involves
delivering a Shakespearean monologue, wielding
a wizard staff, or purling a knitted jumper.
So, to bring it all together for you listening.
We've traced the trajectory of a man whose life
began in the literal shadow of a world war. A
truly incredible journey. He took that early
proximity to tragedy and used it to forge a boundless
theatrical imagination. He mastered the classical
stage, forcefully bent the film industry to accept
him on his own terms through sheer talent and
became the beating heart of the biggest fantasy
worlds ever put on screen. All by treating genre
fiction with absolute psychological respect.
And crucially, he utilized his own personal truth,
stepping out of the shadows of a rigid society,
to advocate for equality. He demonstrated that
living authentically isn't just a political act.
It is the fundamental key to unlocking personal
freedom and artistic brilliance. Which leaves
us with a final thought for you to take away
today. We've seen how Ian McKellen consistently
refused to let society dictate his timeline.
Time and time again. He had an indie film breakthrough
in his 50s. He became a global action star in
his 60s. He played an age blind Hamlet in his
80s and he's booking superhero movies for his
late 80s. He constantly redefined what was expected
of him at every single age. So if you think about
your own life, what script or societal timeline
are you currently accepting as absolute Are you
telling yourself it's too late for a pivot? Or
that you have to stay confined to the box your
career or background put you in? That's a great
question. And what would happen if, like, that
young boy who once slept under a steel plate
and decided the entire world was his stage? You
simply decided to rewrite it.