Jenny Agutter

I saw her in the National Film Theatre bar a few weeks ago, but I was too embarrassed to say anything, so just worshipped from afar. Perhaps the quintessential 'English rose' (see Helena Bonham-Carter for details), she still looks great -- and I doubt any surgeon can take the credit. Her presence in my dreams is a series of moments: flannel petticoats in 'The Railway Children'; taking a shower in 'American Werewolf', or swimming in 'Walkabout', one of the strangest films in Nic Roeg's strange career. She has never been averse to nudity -- and why not?

Topping off her beauty is the sort of voice that sounds like honey running down an inner thigh: redolent of empire, afternoon tea, and cricket. Nor has she been hidebound into one particular type of role; she has delivered perfectly credible performances in everything from drama through horror to action, while also finding the time to teach inner-city American kids about Shakespeare. Hell, if that's what being disadvantaged means, sign me up now.


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