
Birth: 1st July 1899
Place of Birth: Scarborough, Yorkshire
Nationality: British, Naturalized American
Job Title: Actor, Director
Partners: Elsa Lanchester, others unknown
Died: 15th December 1952, California
If there is something about ourselves we don’t like, it is easy to find vices and become ‘troubled’. Some people turn to drink, others to drugs, many to both! Through the course of the Gay Greats series, we have met many historical figures that, in their struggle to come to terms with their sexuality, have turned to a vice for comfort. This month’s Gay Great not only had his sexuality to deal with, but also had many other self-image issues. However unlike many others, he seemed to be able to turn the situation around and live a relatively happy life.
Charles Laughton was born on 1st July to a wealthy hotel owning family in Scarborough. His parents –Robert and Eliza Laughton- ran the Victoria Hotel, a well-known retreat for the middle class. The eldest of three brothers, Laughton and his siblings thrived in the spacious hotel, always finding new places to play. As the family business grew, Robert and Eliza decided to branch out and buy a rather exclusive hotel across the road named The Pavilion Hotel. This opened up a whole new realm for the young children to play in.
But it wasn’t all play and fun. Laughton’s mother was devoutly Catholic and the young men were packed off to a Jesuit boarding school (Stonyhurst College) as soon as they had come of age. Laughton did not stand out as exceptional, nor fail badly at Stonyhurst. However, the school did give the young and artistic man his first taste of the stage. Already developing the rotund figure he would late become recognised by, Laughton was assigned the roll of a portly innkeeper in the school’s production of The Private Secretary. Even thought the role was a minor one, he loved the opportunity to let out his artistic flair. His sexuality was not clear, but it was obvious he was turning into a gentle, flamboyant and quite feminine man.
When he reached 16, his parents insisted that Laughton leave Stonyhurst to be trained by the prestigious Claridge's Hotel in preparation to take over the family business back in Yorkshire. Laughton was not keen. He had already set his heart on becoming and actor. But like almost every other actor before him, he put his plans on hold to fulfil his parent’s wishes of learning a trade. It was probably around this time that Laughton also began to struggle with his sexuality. Being brought up Catholic, there was no place for any ‘perversion’ in his personality. Deep down he loathed himself not only for being odd looking, but also for his true desires towards men. It was to be some years before he felt ready to explore any of these feelings.
His 18th birthday in 1917 took him away from the pressed tablecloths of Claridge’s and onto the battlefields of Europe. He joined the war at its conclusion, but none the less suffered not only a gas attack but also some deep mental scars. On his return to England, he continued with his hotel career for a while. With his father’s death in 1924, there came a release from the trade. Laughton did not take on the business of the hotels as planned and therefore saw no reason not to give up the hospitality business altogether and return to London, this time to seek his fortune on the stage.
Laughton’s first step was to attend the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts (RADA) to learn about the business properly. There he took part in many stage productions. But it was becoming clear Laughton needed to find a very special niche. Overweight and not the best looking of men, many of the leading roles were not available to him. Laughton was also not keen to go down the route of comedy oddball or stock character actor either. Instead, he aimed somewhere in-between and started to take pivotal character driven roles that demanded good acting and intelligence, but not necessarily good looks.
This new tack began to work and within a year of leaving RADA, he had found his first professional acting role on the stage in The Government Inspector. With the theatre enjoying a resurgence after the hard war years, Laughton found work easily and in 1926, his first year of professional acting, he performed in five different plays. It was while performing in a London play a year after turning professional that he met Elsa Lanchester. Coming from a bohemian background, Lanchester was lively and strong willed. She fell for the reserved and sensitive Laughton and despite his suppressed feelings of homosexuality the two began a courtship. The couple stared together in a few silent films before they married in 1929.
But married life didn’t go according to plan. Only two years into the marriage, Lanchester learnt of her husband’s homosexuality. Although she was initially shocked and deeply upset, over time the couple began to develop an altered relationship, one of close friendship. They decided to remain married, although both of them took lovers, and were instead constant companions, looking after and supporting each other as in any other marriage. Laughton’s relationship with his sexuality was altogether more difficult. Although he had several lovers, there was never a significant male partner. In a way, Laughton still loathed his sexuality and felt his lovers were a necessary evil. Even at the height of his fame, Laughton’s sexuality remained a tight secret. Only once was an expose narrowly avoided but on the whole, Laughton and Lanchester managed to keep his secret safe.
With the couple now working more and more in films, the time had come to crack Hollywood. In 1931, they jumped at the chance to travel to America when Laughton was given and opportunity to take his West End production of Payment Deferred onto the American stage. Paramount became interested in Laughton and his rather original looks and contracted him for several films, the first of which was The Old Dark Horse in which he played an English gent sheltering from a storm alongside some other miss-matched characters. After a few more small parts, Laughton at last got a staring role when he reprised his stage production of Payment Deferred and again took the leading role as a man hanged or a murder he did not commit.
But grater things were to come. In 1933, his large figure and podgy face, as well as his classically trained acting skills, won him the title role in The Private Life of King Henry VIII. He stared along side his wife, who played Anne of Cleves, and the role won him much public acclaim. His interpretation of the robust king also got him noticed by the panel of the Academy Awards and in 1933 he won an Oscar for Best Actor while The Private Life of Henry VIII won Best Picture.

Now marked out as a serious actor able to play strong character based roles, more leading parts came his way. Over the next few years he would play the uncompromising and brutal lawman Javert in the 1935 film version of Les Miserables, the eccentric Captain William Bligh in Mutiny on the Bounty and the slightly unhinged artist Rembrandt in a biopic of his life. Great roles were streaming in for Laughton and in 1939, he was the obvious choice to play the lead role in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Laughton was hesitant to play the role. Having long detested his own looks, the character of Quasimodo was perhaps a little close to home. Nevertheless, he decided to take the role and despite not winning him the expected second Oscar, The Hunchback of Notre Dame became Laughton’s best-known film role.
Laughton had not neglected his stage work either. Travelling back and forth between America and England, he continued to star in West End productions, his film star status drawing in extra crowds. In addition, his clear and distinctive voice had also led him into becoming somewhat of an orator, touring America and England giving readings interspersed with anecdotes. Once, he famously managed to keep the audience of the Ed Sullivan show captivated whilst reading excerpts from the Bible, such was his oral ability. He also became a recording artist, releasing many of his spoken word performances on record. One of his most famous recordings was a twenty-minute version of Charles Dickens’ Mr Pickwick’s Christmas, which was a favourite with adults and children alike.