Nicol Williamson was an enormously talented actor who was considered bysome critics to be the finest actor of his generation in the late 1960sand the 1970s, rivaled only byAlbert Finney, whom Williamson bested inthe classics. Williamson's 1969 "Hamlet" at the Roundhouse Theatre wasa sensation in London, considered by many to be the best limning ofThe Dane since the definitive 20th-century portrayal byJohn Gielgud, a performance in that period,rivaled in kudos only byRichard Burton's 1964 Broadwayperformance. In a sense, Williamson and Burton were the last two greatHamlets of the century. Finney's Hamlet was a failure, and whileDerek Jacobi's turn as The Dane was widelyhailed by English critics, he lacked the charisma and magnetism -- thestar power -- of a Williamson or Burton.

PlaywrightJohn Osborne, whose play"Inadmissible Evidence" was a star vehicle for Williamson in London'sWest End and on Broadway, called him "the greatest actor sinceMarlon Brando." While it was unlikely thatWilliamson could ever achieved the film reputation of Brando (who butBrando did?) or the superstar status that Burton obtained and thenlost, his inability to maintain a consistent film career most likely isa result of his own well-noted eccentricities than it is from anydeficiency in acting skills.

The great critic and raconteurKenneth Tynan(Laurence Olivier's first dramaturg atthe National Theatre) wrote a 1971 profile of Williamson thatelucidated the problem with this potentially great performer.Williamson's Hamlet had wowed Prime MinisterHarold Wilson, and Wilson inturn raved about his performance to PresidentRichard Nixon. Nixon invited Williamson tostage a one-man show at the White House, which was a success. However,in the same time period, Williamson's reputation was tarred by hiserratic behavior during the North American tour of "Hamlet". In Bostonhe stopped during a performance and berated the audience, which led onecast member to publicly apologize to the Boston audience. Williamsonwould be involved in an even more famous incident on Broadway ageneration later.

Even before the Boston incident, Williamson had made headlines when,during the Philadelphia tryout of "Inadmissible Evidence," he struckproducerDavid Merrick whilstdefending Anthony Page. In 1976 he slapped a fellow actor during thecurtain call for the Broadway musical "Rex." Fifteen years later, hisco-star in the Broadway production of "I Hate Hamlet" was terrified ofhim after Williamson whacked the actor on his buttocks with a sword,after the actor had abandoned the choreography.

A great stage actor, who also did a memorable "Macbeth" in London andon Broadway, Williamson was twice nominated for Tony Awards as BestActor (Dramatic), in 1966 for Osborne's "Inadmissible Evidence" (aperformance he recreated in the film version) and in 1974 for a revivalof "Uncle Vanya." On film, Williamson was superb in many roles, such asthe suicidal Irish soldier inThe Bofors Gun (1968) andTony Richardson'sHamlet (1969). He got his chance playingleads, such as Sherlock Holmes inThe Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976)and Castle inOtto Preminger'sThe Human Factor (1979), andwas competent if not spectacular, likely diminished by deficiencies inthe scripts rather than his own talent. Richardson also replacedWilliamson's rival as Hamlet, Burton, in his adaptation ofVladimir Nabokov'sLaughter in the Dark (1969).

It was in supporting work that he excelled in film in the 1970s and1980s. He was quite effective as a supporting actor, such as his LittleJohn toSean Connery's Robin Hood inRichard Lester'sRobin and Marian (1976), wasbrilliant inI'm Dancing as Fast as I Can (1982)and gave a performance for the ages (albeit in the scenery-chewingcategory as Merlin) inExcalibur (1981). His Merlin lives onas one of the most enjoyable performances ever caught on film.

Then it was over. While the film work didn't dry up, it didn't reachthe heights anymore. He failed to harness that enormous talent andconvert it into memorable film performances. He did good work asLouis Mountbatten in a 1986 TV-movie,but the roles became more sporadic, and after 1997 this great actor nolonger appeared in motion pictures.

Williamson's eccentricities showed themselves again in the early 1990s.When appearing as the ghost ofJohn Barrymore in the 1991Broadway production ofPaul Rudnick's "IHate Hamlet" on Broadway in 1991, Williamson's co-star quit the playafter being thumped on the buttocks with a sword during a stage fight.Although critics hailed the performances of the understudy as a "vastimprovement" it caused a sensation in the press. Despite good reviews,the play lasted only 100 performances.

Surprisingly, Williamson never won an Oscar nomination, yet that neverwas a game he seemed to play. In 1970, after his Hamlet triumph, heturned down a six-figure salary to appear as Enobarbus inCharlton Heston's film of Shakespeare'sAntony and Cleopatra (1972)_. The role was played byEric Porter, but his choice wasjustified in that the film was derided as a vanity production andsavaged by critics).

Williamson had been a staple on Broadway, even using his fine singingvoice to appear as Henry VIII in the Broadway musical "Rex" In 1976. Hehas not appeared on the Great White Way since his own one-man showabout John Barrymore that he himself crafted, "Jack: A Night on theTown with John Barrymore," which had enormously successful runs, bothat the Criterion Theater in London, and The Geffen Theater in LosAngeles playing to packed houses, before closing on Broadway after only12 performances in 1996.

The "I Hate Hamlet" and "Jack" shows are still talked about onBroadway. Williamson has joined the ranks of Barrymore, Burton, andBrando, in that they have become phantoms who haunt the theater andfilm that they they served so admirably on the one hand but failed onthe other. All enormously gifted artists, perhaps possessed of genius,they were discombobulated by that gift that became their curse, theburden of dreams -- the dreams of their audiences, their collaborators,their critics. While there is a wistfulness over the loss of suchgreatness, there is a relief offered, not so much from a moral tale,but as a release from guilt for the run-of-the-mill artists lackingsuch genius. One can be comforted by the fact that while one lacks thepearl of such a talent, they also lack the irritating genius thatengenders that pearl.