This is a few days outdated - his actual birthday was last week - but this man was a dramatic legend, and a true master of his craft. 

He had too many good performances to discuss all of them, so we’ll just focus on The Lost World.

That one wasn’t a great film, or a great book. I’m kind of surprised Crichton even bothered to write it. He surely wouldn’t have, were it not for the insane success of its prequel.

Postlethwaite’s character -  the hunter, Roland Tembo - wasn’t in the book at all. And not only was he the best thing about the movie, his character’s arc was better than the whole film’s arc. Better than the book’s too.

His motivation is as simple as it is magnificent: he wants to hunt the greatest predator of all time: the Tyrannosaurus Rex. That would have been a better story than the actual story. 

I read a review of The Lost World that said Postlethwaite was the only person on screen who actually looked like he was on an island of dinosaurs, and not just in an action movie about them. That’s right. 

But his best contribution was really bringing the spirit of the original to the sequel. Goldblum, Attenborough, et al - the returning leads - were rehashing old characters. They didn’t need to have their wonder disillusioned, because their arcs in the first film had covered that. 

We meet Roland Tembo as a hard-nosed, hyper-competent expert, with as a clear a goal as it’s possible to have. His disaffection isn’t scientific in the way that Malcolm’s, Grant’s, or even Hammond’s is, it’s moral. He comes to understand that what he wants is wrong. Not because its consequences will be dangerous or unpredictable, but just because it’s wrong.

He comes within sight of Everest’s summit, only to realize he doesn’t need to reach it. He shouldn’t reach it.

“I’ve spent enough time in the company of death.”

Epic. 

It can be hard to notice performances that are that much better than the movies they appear in. 

Also, fun fact: 

The northern English voice heard narrating over the intro to Chumbawamba’s Tubthumping is Postlethwaite’s, from the also excellent movie Brassed Off.

“Truth is, I thought it mattered. I thought that music mattered. But does it, bollocks - not compared to our people matter.”