Rains, Claude (1889-1967)

The words "unique actor" and "consummate professional" are overused in the entertainment industry, but they describe perfectly Claude Rains, an exceptional character actor of the Golden Age of Hollywood during the 1930s and 1940s. Rains was known for his subtle nuances in style, his perfect diction, and his mellifluous voice as he skillfully created memorable characters on stage, screen, television, and radio for nearly 50 years.

Of the 54 movies Rains made from 1933 to 1965, he is most remembered for his unforgettable performances as the mad chemist in The Invisible Man (1933), the smoothly corrupt senator foiled by Jimmy Stewart in Frank Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), the sympathetic and pitiful betrayed husband of Ingrid Bergman in Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious (1946), and the charmingly corrupt Vichy police official who joins Humphrey Bogart to fight for freedom at the end of Casablanca (1942). But few Americans know that the British-born Rains was an eminent stage actor both in London and with the renowned Theatre Guild in New York for 30 years before he entered motion pictures.

Even though Rains was not particularly good looking, and at 5′6″ rather short, he possessed a commanding air, a seemingly inbred impeccable manner, and a sly humor, all of which resulted in a presence more imposing than his slight physical build implied. His acting suggested suaveness with just a hint of wickedness, but it was his elocution and husky-toned velvety voice that became his trademark. Rains could combine words, subtle gestures, and emphatic pauses with perfect timing. His speech and style were all the more remarkable given that he was born into abject poverty in London's slums during the latter part of the Victorian Era, and lived a rather Dickensian childhood on the streets. Until well into his teens, Rains suffered a serious speech defect and also had a strong cockney dialect. As the eminent writer J. B. Priestly stated about the actor's persona in his book Particular Pleasures, "I can imagine an American filmgoer seeing Claude Rains … as an autocrat or smooth villain, feeling certain that here was a man who must have left an aristocratic family… to amuse himself making films. Rains had that air [of refinement]."

Rains began his career at age ten as a callboy in the British theatre and was encouraged to take voice lessons and overcome his speech problems. His self-discipline and responsible attitude were noticed by theatre owners and, in an unprecedented manner, Rains eventually became stage manager. In this way he learned every aspect of theatrical production, including effective acting.

In 1915 Rains served with the British Army in France, where he suffered the ill-effects of the German's use of mustard gas. Although his vocal cords were damaged, he astonished the doctors when ironically he recovered with a much deeper and unusual voice. In 1919 he returned to the London stage as an actor and performed in diverse plays penned by talents ranging from George Bernard Shaw to Pirandello, and was noticed by critics for his exceptional ability. Prominent writers such as Graham Greene were highly complimentary, describing the actor's interpretations as brilliant: "Mr. Rains' low husky voice, his power of investing even commonplace dialogue with smoldering conviction, is remarkable.… He can catch, as no one else can, the bitter distrust of the world, religious in its intensity" Rains arrived in the United States in 1925 with a touring company and decided to remain in this country, becoming a naturalized citizen in 1938. By the early 1930s he was one of the leading actors with the Theatre Guild.

Initially Rains avoided films, and he especially refrained from making silent movies. The Great Depression, however, forced him, and many other actors, to leave the theatre for Hollywood. In 1933, he accepted the lead role in Universal's The Invisible Man, a film directed by his old theatre friend James Whale, who insisted on Rains for the part. Whale recognized the power of the actor's extraordinary voice, which was essential since the actor's face was completely covered during the entire film. He made three movies in 1934 and 1935, impressing studio heads, and by 1936 Jack Warner offered the actor a contract, recognizing he had the ability "to do anything and do it well." It was a relationship that lasted ten years.

While most film admirers saw Rains as a reflection of the characters he portrayed—self-assured, cunning, devious, well-educated, polished, and urbane—in reality he was none of these things. He was an extremely honest, entirely self-taught, shy, reserved man who lived quite simply but who always felt very insecure and frightened. Rains' persona of sophistication was self-created and in his acting he never used his own personality, as did so many film stars like Cary Grant and Gary Cooper. Above all, he rarely duplicated his characters and with equal aplomb could be a heavenly messenger (Here Comes Mr. Jordan, 1937) or the devil himself (Angel on My Shoulder, 1946), a wise and shrewd Caesar (Caesar and Cleopatra, 1945), or a naive cuckold to Bette Davis (Mr. Skeffington, 1944). Davis considered Claude Rains the greatest actor she ever worked with and they were friends for 20 years. He made two other popular films with her; as the kindly and understanding psychiatrist (in Now, Voyager, 1943), and as an egotistical, brilliant, but mean-spirited composer (in Deception, 1946). Rains displayed an inherent intelligence in his characterizations, that enabled him to overcome a shallow script or trite dialogue in many films. Producers and directors knew his broad range and his box-office popularity, and they frequently enlarged or built in roles for him. But even when his part was small Rains' presence was commanding, and he made a powerful impression, such as his portrayal of the mysterious Dr. Tower in Kings Row (1942).

Rains could suggest thoughts without words, but when he did speak his tone revealed, without affectation, the complexity of his character or set the mood for the scene. He was often labeled a "villain" simply because in some parts he implied intrigue and exuded an element of cunning. He used his unique voice to intimidate, suggest, or seduce an audience by controlling the pitch, volume, and innuendo; and his timing was impeccable. Perhaps Rains' uniqueness was that he could "put on" a complex personality as easily as other actors use make-up or costumes. This is especially apparent in his suggestive "effete" portrayal of Prince John in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). Often his characters seemed to border between being scrupulous and unscrupulous, and while scheming, not necessarily evil; this is most evident in his performance as the wily police captain in Casablanca. Although he was nominated four times for an Academy Award, he never won the honor.

At age 60, and after a 16 year absence, Rains returned to the New York stage in 1951 in Sidney Kingsley's Darkness at Noon, playing an old Bolshevik during the Stalinist purge trials. For his remarkable and astonishing portrayal he won every award the theatre world bestows. During the 1950s he attempted a few plays but only found critical success in T.S. Eliot's The Confidential Clerk (1954). He also acted in many early prominent television shows such as Judgement at Nuremburg, and appeared in a musical version of The Pied Piper, along with several Alfred Hitchcock episodes. Sadly, by 1960 his voice began to fail, along with his health, which was very apparent in his portrayal of the devious British official in David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia (1962). Rains' last film role was as King Herrod in The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), of which one reviewer wrote: "After you've seen Rains in the first twenty minutes of the film, you can leave the theatre."

In the early 1960s, Rains married for the sixth time and moved to New Hampshire, but within a few years his wife died of cancer. Old, quite ill, and alone, he remained isolated in his home until his death in May 1967. His friend Bette Davis best summed up Rains' artistry when she stated during an interview, "an actor of his technique and style was irreplaceable; we shall not see his kind again."

—Toby Irene Cohen

Further Reading:

Behlmer, Rudy. Inside Warner Bros. (1935-1951). New York, Simon & Schuster, 1985.

Harmetz, Aljean. Round up the Usual Suspects: The Making of Casablanca. New York, Hyperion, 1992.

Mank, Greg. The Hollywood Hissables. Metuchen, New Jersey. Scarecrow Press, 1989.

Mordden, Ethan. The Hollywood Studios. New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1988.