How a Two-Time Oscar Winner Walked Away from Hollywood to Rewrite Her Legacy in British Politics.

Glenda Jackson stood as a contradiction in a society where success and fame are often sought with unrelenting zeal: a lady who attained film immortality and then turned her back on it all. Jackson made a name for herself in movie history before leaving the business completely. Her voice was like tempered steel, and her face could burn with rage or melt into warmth. It reads like fantasy how she went from her council housing beginnings to the Academy Awards and then to the harsh realities of politics. But it wasn’t.

In Birkenhead, Cheshire, England, Glenda Jackson was born in 1936. She grew up in a working-class household and lacked the characteristics of a celebrity. Her mother worked at a store, while her father was a bricklayer. In postwar Britain, suffering was a regular occurrence. Jackson, however, had a strong will. She used to joke that the only thing she could do was act. She received the discipline and foundation she needed from her studies at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA), a distinguished school that has taught many of Britain’s theatrical elite. Her path wasn’t a quick one. While she waited for opportunities, she worked in a drugstore and auditioned tenaciously until the ideal chance presented itself.

Her early stage work attracted notice for her emotional depth and intellect, especially with the Royal Shakespeare Company in the 1960s. However, her move into movies was what thrust her into the public eye. In 1969, Jackson’s performance in Ken Russell’s adaptation of D.H. Lawrence's book, Women in Love, electrified the cinema industry. In her portrayal of Gudrun Brangwen, she combined intelligence and boldness with the sensuality of the book. Jackson was unfazed by the film’s contentious elements, which included intense psychological moments and naked wrestling scenes. It appeared to energise her. She won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance, and a new chapter in her life started.

Being a dazzling movie star was never Jackson’s goal. She was ferociously vocal, unsentimental, and often difficult to deal with, remaining steadfastly herself in an age of meticulously manicured public personalities. This was evident in her decisions. She had no desire for fame. She was seeking the truth. She reteamed with Ken Russell for The Music Lovers (1971) after Women in Love, playing the tortured wife of composer Tchaikovsky in a part full of suppressed aggression, sexuality, and insanity. Once again, Jackson didn’t mince words.

Her prime was in the early 1970s. Her role with George Segal in the romantic comedy A Touch of Class earned her a second Academy Award in 1973. It demonstrated her adaptability and humorous timing and was a surprise change from the severity of her previous performances. Jackson demonstrated that he could manage humour with the same impact as sadness in this lighthearted picture about a married man’s romance with a British fashion designer. Although she never appeared quite at ease there, it also solidified her position among Hollywood’s elite.

Jackson’s roles grew as the honors mounted, including BAFTAs, Emmys, and a Tony nomination. Characters who were decorative seldom piqued her attention. She portrayed a lady in a love triangle with two guys, one of whom was also seeing her homosexual best friend, in Sunday Bloody Sunday (1971). The film explored emotional estrangement and sexual identity in a way that was bold for its day. Critics praised Jackson’s calm, tired grace as he sang it. She gave the picture a grounded reality that, according to director John Schlesinger, made its delicate subjects seem genuine rather than spectacular.

Jackson remained a creature of the stage throughout her cinematic career. She never lost sight of her Shakespearean heritage. One of the most authoritative depictions of the Virgin Queen is still her portrayal of Elizabeth I in the 1971 BBC series Elizabeth R. Devoid of the conceit that sometimes permeates depictions of monarchy, Jackson presented Elizabeth as a cunning, strong, and frequently cruel queen. She surprised viewers and thrilled reviewers with her dedication to realism by ageing visibly on TV and appearing in unflattering close-ups. Jackson herself took home one of the several Emmys for the series.

There were indications, however, that Jackson was becoming disenchanted with the movie business even as her fame grew. She publicly expressed her dissatisfaction with the roles that women, especially older women, may play in a society that is controlled by males. She felt that packaging was more important to Hollywood than performance. She never lived up to the standards of fame or beauty. And because of it, she was sometimes marginalised and sometimes admired.

Jackson had started to change direction by the late 1980s. The passion that had drawn her to performing was giving way to a new vocation: politics. She had been a longtime Labour Party member and had become more vocal about social justice, the NHS, and the growing inequalities in Britain under Thatcherism. She achieved the unimaginable in 1992 when she quit acting completely to run for parliament as the Labour MP for Highgate and Hampstead. She prevailed despite everything.

The movie industry was taken aback by her departure. Many compared it to Michelangelo quitting his painting career at the height of the Renaissance to enter politics. However, Jackson had no desire to follow the norms of celebrity. She had used the cinema to express what she wanted to convey. The inequalities infuriated her, and now she decided to take action.

Jackson was just as ferocious and unyielding in Parliament as she had been on TV. She was renowned for her sincerity, incisiveness, and refusal to follow the party line. Jackson opposed Tony Blair as he led Britain into the Iraq War. A unique quality in contemporary politics is her willingness to criticize her party. Respected by colleagues on all sides of the aisle, she retired from Parliament in 2015 after 23 years of service. Her political career was never defined by her famous position. As she once said, “I wasn’t Glenda Jackson MP — I was the MP who used to be an actress,” she made a concerted effort to disassociate herself from it.

Jackson didn’t appear to miss it, even if the movie business could have missed her throughout those decades. She had an unwavering commitment to public service. But like many great performers, she was ultimately summoned back to the stage.

More than twenty years after her previous performance, Jackson made a comeback to the stage in 2016 when she played King Lear at the Old Vic. She was eighty years old. The performance received overwhelmingly positive reviews because it was honest, fearless, and painful. One of the best explanations of the function in live memory, according to critics. She then returned to acting, most notably in the 2019 BBC drama Elizabeth Is Missing, in which she portrayed a lady suffering from dementia who was looking into the disappearance of a friend. She received a BAFTA for the part, which also served as a reminder of her extraordinary talent.

Glenda Jackson never shied away from change. She had a remarkable power of will that allowed her to navigate the political minefields of Westminster, discard the trappings of monarchy, and expose her emotions in front of the camera. She was not an artifice. No glitz for the sake of glitz. Like politics, she felt that acting was about exposing, facing, and expressing the truth.

Her decision to leave the film industry was motivated by a search for meaning rather than a rejection of art. Public life, in her opinion, might be a kind of performance, not in the sense of dishonesty, but rather in the moral clarity and discipline it required. She brought the same passion she had brought to the screen to Parliament: the conviction that one must do more than just watch the world; one must also influence it.

The world mourned not just a wonderful actress but also a unique human being who defied every institution she attended and refused to be constrained by expectations when she passed away in June 2023. Her influence on two unrelated realms was shown by the flood of tributes that flowed in. Politicians remembered her for her intelligence and conviction, while actors remembered her for her bravery and accuracy.

Glenda Jackson’s life was a series of daring decisions rather than a straight path. She left the spotlight at its height because she felt her job was just getting started, not because she was done. Her choice to forgo celebrity in favour of service defines her more than any award could. She was a public worker of exceptional ethics and an actress of the greatest calibre. The impact of Glenda Jackson extends beyond the parts she performed to include the limits she resisted. Her story serves as a reminder that greatness comes from moving where one is needed, not from remaining where one is loved.