The legend of Christopher Lee is an almighty tale.
Born on May 27, 1922, in the lavish district of Belgravia, London, Lee came from a prestigious household. His father was a Lieutenant Colonel in the King’s Royal Rifle Corps, while his mother was an Italian Countess Estelle Marie, revered as one of the most beautiful women of her time. It was through her that Lee could trace his lineage back to Charlemagne. He was also a relative of US Confederate general Robert E. Lee.
When Lee was six, his parents divorced, and both he and his older sister Xandra were taken by their mother to live in Switzerland. Their stay was only brief, but it was while enrolled at Miss Fisher’s Academy that Lee first took to the stage, playing Rumpelstiltskin.
The family would return to London, at which point Lee’s mother re-married the uncle of Ian Fleming, author of the James Bond novels. They took residence in Fulham, where Lee was introduced to Prince Yusupov and Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich, assassins of the Russian monk Grigori Rasputin. In 1966, Lee would play their target in the film Rasputin the Mad Monk.
At age nine, Lee studied at the Summer Fields School in the hope that he would later attend Eton, one of the most respected high schools in the country. He applied for a scholarship, interviewing in the presence of M.R. James, a British ghost writer. Lee would play James in a role for the BBC 60 years later. His poor maths skills saw Lee fail to qualify for the scholarship, so instead he attended Wellington College, where he spent less time on the stage and more indulging in books. He learnt Ancient Greek and Latin, eventually receiving a scholarship for classic literature.
For all his success, Lee was an unruly student. He broke the rules often, and was beaten as a result. He’d later recall a particular beating at Wellington he received “for being beaten too often”.
One year before graduating, Lee’s step-father went bankrupt, and he was forced to abandon his studies and find a job. Being the summer, many potential employers were preparing to take holidays rather than hire, so Lee ended up in Paris, staying with various family friends. During this time he witnessed the execution of Eugen Weidmann, the last person to be guillotined in public in France.
As Europe prepared for war in late 1939, Lee returned to London. He worked as an office clerk – briefly suspending this role to volunteer to support Finnish troops in the Winter War against the Soviet Union – before eventually joining the Royal Air Force.
An eye exam revealed his was unfit to fly, a revelation that Lee did not eagerly accept. Moving around to different flying stations, he begged to return to action, but eventually resigned the notion. Believing he should “do something constructive for my keep,” Lee applied to join RAF Intelligence. His initiative was warmly welcomed, and over the next few years he fought through myriad near-death experiences to prove himself a valiant leader and supporter of the troops during the African and Italian campaigns.
Lee would end up an agent in the Special Forces (“I was attached to the SAS from time to time but we are forbidden – former, present, or future – to discuss any specific operations. Let’s just say I was in Special Forces and leave it at that”), and spent the final year of his service as a Nazi hunter, tracking down those who had been involved in the facilitation of concentration camps.
He retired from the RAF in 1946 as a flight lieutenant, and returned to London. One of the company’s he had previously worked for offered him his job back, with a significant raise, but Lee turned it down. “I couldn’t think myself back into the office frame of mind.”
It was during a lunch with his cousin, Nicolò Carandini, a former Italian resistance operative now Italian Ambassador to Britain, that Lee’s life took one of its most impactful turns. As Lee discussed his situation, Carandini questioned, “Why don’t you become an actor, Christopher?”
Lee had not acted in some time, but the idea appealed to him. His mother was appalled by the idea, but Lee convinced her by reminding her of his great-grandmother, Marie Carandini, an opera singer who found success in Australia.
Soon after, Lee walked into the office of Two Cities Films, and stood before producr Filippo Del Giudice. “He looked me up and down…(and) concluded that I was just what the industry had been looking for.”
He was signed to a seven-year contract, but was met with great difficulty when attempting to find work. Eventually, he made his film debut in 1947’s Corridor of Mirrors. Lee had one line of dialogue, which he referred to in his autobiography as “a satirical shaft meant to qualify the lead’s bravura”.
Over the next decade, Lee would find little success. He appeared in 30 films, but only as minor, often generic characters. At 6′ 5″, his imposing height proved an obstacle for directors and casting agents who thought he might cause a distraction. “That’s a quite fatuous remark to make. It’s like saying you’re too short to play the piano. I thought, ‘Right, I’ll show you…’,” he told Total Film, “but during those 10 years, I did the one thing that’s so vitally important today – I watched, I listened and I learned”.
Lee’s big break came in 1957, though it began with little fanfare. He walked into the offices of Hammer – a relatively unknown company at the time – ready to shine in his casting session for The Curse of Frankenstein. Instead of having him perform, the producers simply asked Lee if he wanted the part. Of course, he said yes.
He would star in the film opposite Peter Cushing, who became a lifelong friend. The pair would appear in over 20 films together. As Frankenstein’s monster, Lee had no dialogue, but quickly caught the attention of international audiences who had little experience with horror films. This success lead him to star as the titular vampire in Dracula, a role he would be forced to replay seven more times for Hammer (10 times in total) throughout his career.
“The process went like this: The telephone would ring and my agent would say, ‘(Hammer Films President) Jimmy Carreras has been on the phone, they’ve got another Dracula for you.’
And I would say, ‘Forget it! I don’t want to do another one.’
I’d get a call from Jimmy Carreras, in a state of hysteria. ‘What’s all this about?!’
‘Jim, I don’t want to do it, and I don’t have to do it.’
‘No, you have to do it!’
And I said, ‘Why?’
He replied, ‘Because I’ve already sold it to the American distributor with you playing the part. Think of all the people you know so well, that you will put out of work!’
Emotional blackmail. That’s the only reason I did them.”
Up until the 70’s, the films all proved to be successful.
In 1970, Lee finally played against type with his performance as Mycroft in Billy Wilder’s The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes. Though he would appear in several horror films immediately after, including his personal favourite, The Wicker Man, Lee took the opportunity to broaden his career.
After Ian Fleming had offered him the role of the titular villain in Dr. No, only to find out that the producers had already cast Joseph Wiseman, Lee finally got to appear in a James Bond film as the assassin Scaramanga in The Man with the Golden Gun.
During this period, he was offered a role in John Carpenter’s Halloween, but turned it down in order to continue expanding beyond horror films. He would later tell Carpenter that not taking the part was the biggest regret of his career.
By 1977, Lee made the decision to move to Hollywood to escape fears of typecasting.
It worked, and over the next two decades he appeared in diverse films such as disaster movie Airport ’77, Steven Spielberg’s 1941, and even hosted Saturday Night Live.
By the 2000s – at which point he was entering his 80s – Lee was a celebrated icon of cinema, but was making less and less appearances on screen. That all change with his role as Saruman in The Lord of the Rings. The part marked the realisation of a decades-long dream for the actor, who had read the novels at least once a year since their release.
Shortly after, he played Count Dooku in both Star Wars Episode II and Episode III, performing most of the fight scenes himself.
During the decade, he would also begin collaborating with Tim Burton, appearing in five of the director’s films – Sleepy Hollow, Corpse Bride, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Alice in Wonderland, and Dark Shadows.
In 2011, he gave his final performance in a Hammer film, alongside Hilary Swank and Jeffrey Dean Morgan in The Resident.
He reprised the role of Saruman that same year for The Hobbit, with production altered so that Lee could perform his part without having to travel.
Lee may have escaped horror typecasting, but the gentle giant never shook the vision of himself as a villain. That was ok with him. “I haven’t spent my entire career playing the guy in the bad hat, although I have to say that the bad guy is frequently much more interesting than the good guy.”
Outside of his film career, Lee was an accomplished singer. He performed for the soundtracks of many of his movies, including The Wicker Man. In 1998, he released Christopher Lee Sings Devils, Rogues & Other Villains, before becoming exposed to heavy metal in the 2000s. Lee immediately fell in love with the genre, and went on to release Charlemagne: By the Sword and the Cross, and Charlemagne: The Omens of Death. He received the Spirit of Metal award in 2010.
Christopher Lee died on June 7, 2015, after suffering from heart failure. Only a month earlier, he had signed on for another film.
Having appeared in 207 films, Lee had become the most prolific, and certainly one of the most legendary actors of his time.
His tale is one of perseverance. Of courage. Of pride. Even at the end, he showed no sign of calling it a day.
“There are frustrations – people who lie to you, people who don’t know what they are doing, films that don’t turn out the way you had wanted them to… (but) I always ask myself ‘well, what else could I do?’. Making films has never just been a job to me, it’s my life. I have some interests outside of acting – I sing and I’ve written books, for instance – but acting is what keeps me going, it’s what I do, it gives life purpose… I’m realistic about the amount of work I can get at my age, but I take what I can, even voice-overs and narration.”
Though he is gone, may his drive never be forgotten.