Curtain Call: Mark Addy

The great ones just keep falling, and Mark Addy is the second major loss this series will have to bear with the sudden (if not entirely shocking) death of King Robert Baratheon.

Mark had doubters when his name was announced for the role; more than a few. Cries of “He’s not tall enough,” or “I can’t imagine someone like him ever being a great warrior,” came the calls from various malcontents. But by and large—and argue if you think you can—Mark stepped up to the plate and hit the proverbial home run when he donned the stag-antlered crown. Addy’s Robert was one part Falstaff, one part MacBeth, and nine parts brass balls. His wheezing laugh was infectious, though that laugh could seemingly come and go at a whim, and I suspect was one of the little tricks Addy added to the king’s charismatic arsenal. That laugh seemed to say you were a part of some small jest; that all was really not so dire.

Yet in the end it was very dire indeed; he was just a tired man, far past his prime and usefulness. Addy’s King Robert was dancing a jig on cracking ice, and he seemed to know it. His best days were indeed behind him, and Mark showed bits of that fear and self-loathing—as well as the more readily apparent loathing he had for most others—in between the cracked facade Robert wore.

But oh, was he good. He was really good.

Mark’s best rapport was, of course, with Sean Bean. Mark and Sean go way back; Addy, a York lad, and Bean from Sheffield, sure, but with shared mindsets and a love of drama. When both men were in the same room you felt the raw power index go way up. They worked off one another excellently, their bond, both onscreen and off, clear for all to see. Almost as gripping was the antagonistic relation he kept with the Lannisters, a family he was indebted to and despised. Poor, poor (…) Cersei, the oft-mocked “Kingslayer” Jaime, and of course Lancel. Hell, he made us love Lancel Lannister. Mark Addy and a quivering Eugene Simon created a black comedy between this unlikely pair that hadn’t been present at all in the books. And Simon is better for his time spent with Addy; I can’t wait to see Lancel grow into the arrogance that must surely soon come his way.

So the early protests turned to cheers, as they rightly should have been. If his name is not up for Best Supporting Actor in a Television Drama when the Emmys come back ’round early next year, well, it’s a crime. Because I think he deserves it—especially given that he’d had so many doubters.

“I showed ’em all, Ned,” he might say. “I showed those scoffing fucks.”

One of his most vocal early defenders was George R.R. Martin himself, who stated on more than one occasion that he had been moved by Mark’s reading of the Winterfell crypt scene, in which Robert laments the loss of his one true love. It was always Lyanna; I don’t know if Mark was able to latch on to the memory of a loved one lost too soon, some great sadness that bent his entire frame, but that’s what we got. Lyanna was Robert’s love and there would be no other.

Robert did not spare Cersei the harshness of the truth, either. She asked—he answered. And perhaps that was the final straw. Perhaps we’ll never know.

So Robert Baratheon, First of his Name, titles, titles, titles…

He is gone to where poor kings go. Cry not your tears, for tears do him no good. Better to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war! I cannot wait to see what this larger-than-life actor does next.

Fire And Blood: Thanks for everything, Mark! Your wit, your wry smile, your wisdom. House Gatewatch wishes you well!

• Published on 06/02/2011 at 9:11 AM CDT
• Last updated on 10/20/2016 at 6:04 PM CDT