To be a master of sauciness—sharp-tongued like a dagger—and also perhaps one of the warmest presences most of us can remember seeing on screen: That is the singular gift of Maggie Smith.
The formidable, accomplished actress died Friday in London at the age of 89. Her acting career began at age 17 and never lulled, bringing two Oscars, four Emmys, a slew of theater awards, and the distinction of Dame Commander of the British Empire for her cultural contributions.
The last decades of her life and career capitalized on that warm sauciness—like a scalding tea—to some of her greatest successes. Because of the projects’ recency, many people will remember her for her roles in Downton Abbey and as Professor McGonagall in the Harry Potter franchise. They’ll fondly remember the plane rides spent watching The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and its sequel, which I think we had a global collective experience screening as in-flight movies.
She’s one of the first actresses to make an impression on me, with the one-two punch of her roles in Hook and Sister Act. (Watch her delivery of “I lied” as Mother Superior, and applaud.) I echo culture writer David Mack’s take on X: “What’s crazy about Maggie Smith is I vividly remember watching her in hook as a kid and thinking wow that is the OLDEST person i have ever seen. That movie came out in 1991!! She really leaned into this era of her career.”
No one had a better take on that late-in-life career boon than Smith herself. Watch her in this clip from the glorious documentary Tea With Dames, in which she and Judi Dench marvel over their career longevity, with Smith getting in a loving sting about Dench’s demand: “You’re always asked first, If I may say so.” Saucy. Warm.
But one of the lovely things that happens after an actor’s death is that people start posting all kinds of remembrances and videos of their favorite performances. I’m so glad, in the case of Smith, to see so many people singling out her Oscar-winning work in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.
In the 1969 film, she plays a teacher at a Scottish all-girls’ school in the 1930s, whose free-spirited passion for education becomes domineering as her romanticism collides with delusion, threatening her position.
If you haven’t seen the movie, one particular clip has been circulating since the news of Smith’s death. It’s likely the scene that won her the Oscar. Fifty-five years later, it’s still spellbinding. As she explodes at the headmistress who asks her to resign, she is both startlingly unhinged and yet in complete control. Fury bursts from her like a geyser, an outrageous outpouring of emotion harnessed into a stunning display of manipulation.
Watch it here:
“So often I have watched this—every time I am absolutely riveted,” wrote one user on X. “Every cell in her body is this charismatic, dangerous mentor. This film, this performance is still resonant.”
“Such an amazing speech & delivery: spine-tingling,” another user wrote. Summarized another fan: “The very definition of haughty,” followed by a crown emoji.
That may be a perfect encapsulation of Smith’s gifts: the queen of haughtiness.
