Born at the very end of the 19th century, the English actor Charles Laughton was one of the most acclaimed character actors of the Hollywood Golden Age, winning the 1934 Best Actor Oscar for his lead role in The Private Life of Henry VIII.
Despite a commanding presence on screen, however, Laughton was privately an immensely shy and insecure man. His vulnerability was proved by an infamous case of mistaken identity later recalled by his co-star, Peter Ustinov, on the set of Stanley Kubrick’s Spartacus in 1959.
The two men were sat outside Laughton’s trailer when a group of tourists visiting the lot happened to pass by. A pair of women in the group quickly recognized Laughton and began eagerly exclaiming how wonderful a star they thought he was.
Unfortunately, the situation soured when it soon emerged that the women had mistaken Laughton for somebody else. “Oh, your role as Big Daddie was just the greatest!” One of the women went on—blissfully unaware that she and her friend were not talking to the American actor and folk singer Burl Ives, who had played that character in 1958’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
The mishap left Laughton utterly humiliated, and as the women continued on their tour, it fell to his companion, Peter Ustinov, to try to cheer him up. “Come now, Charles,” Ustinov said. “The thing to do in these moments is to imagine how it could have been worse than it was. They may realize their mistake and come back!” He suggested. “That would be much worse!”
At which point, of course, the two women reappeared. “Oh, how will you ever forgive us!” they exclaimed. “The ghastliest mistake…!”
“It’s alright,” Laughton muttered, unconvincingly, as the situation continued to grow ever more awkward. “No, no,” the women went on, “it’s just awful!” Finally, in an attempt to improve matters, one of the women exclaimed, “I want to tell you something—I’m sure you’re just as good as Burl Ives.”
As well-intended as this final comment might have been, to Laughton—a classically trained star of stage and screen, and one of England’s foremost Shakespearean performers—being compared to a banjo-playing folk singer-cum-actor was not the compliment the woman might have presumed it was…