'A genius!': Joanna Lumley, John Berry and Lesley Manville hail Jonathan Miller

Joanna Lumley, actor: ‘What he did was staggering’

He was one of my greatest heroes. Years ago, when I was being photographed for Vogue, I saw him walking past with the editor. I left and ran out down the corridor after him and said: “Dr Miller! I am a huge fan of yours.” He gave me the most camel-like stare and walked on as if I didn’t exist.

Then, in 2007, I found myself working with him on The Cherry Orchard in Sheffield. I’d done the play once before and loved it. You always wonder if you’ll have a chance to revisit a play and when he asked me to be Madame Ranevskaya again I couldn’t believe my luck. I reminded him of our encounter at Vogue and he said: “Surely I’d have been nicer than that.” I said: “You were absolutely frightful!”

But he was completely brilliant. He was extraordinarily funny – he just couldn’t help it – and he was always suggesting books to read. He seemed to be hugely sensitive about having given up a proper medical career for footling about on the stage. Yet what he did in his footling was staggering.

There’s a scene when Ranevskaya hears that the property has been sold to Lopakhin. Jonathan said he had observed people who are ill and coming towards the end of their lives: when they are lying in bed, their fingers restlessly pleat the sheets. He said I should take a piece of my skirt and quietly fold it and unfold it. That’s all I did when she hears the news.

He couldn’t stand actors crying on stage: “I will not have that!” So in an earlier scene when Ranevskaya is convulsed with tears, he told me not to to cry but to walk upstage. “Take as long as you like. If the audience get restless that’s fine. Keep them waiting. Do nothing.” One of the critics said “Joanna Lumley can’t even cry” but the doctor forbade me! He was a genius, I adored him and we’d have done anything for him.

John Berry, artistic director of ENO 2005-2015: ‘There was always a glint in his eye’

He loved the challenge of opera, of how multifaceted it was. He was a remarkable director who was able to reach out to audiences of all ages with productions that still feel contemporary. So many of ENO’s greatest productions are his. His Rosenkavalier, Rigoletto and of course the Mikado, which is still going strong, 33 years later. I also worked with him on two new commissions, L’Elisir d’Amore and La Bohème and it was a real privilege.

He could be very tough and critical of others – he didn’t spare me sometimes, but he was always very funny and there was always a glint in his eye. I remember him saying of one colleague: “I wish he would pull his socks up, if only he knew where his socks were,” or of another: “He let failure go to his head.” He wasn’t the kind of director who would pore over the score or obsess about the lighting or the conductor. For him, it was all about character.

His rehearsals were always very relaxed. Sometimes he let them run without him saying a word, other times he’d be sitting quietly and then jump off his seat to talk to a singer about their individual characterisation. There was always a lot of banter – he loved the discussion and wanted it to be an equal partnership with his singers. For ENO he is a giant, and his legacy will continue.

Lesley Garrett, singer: ‘His capacity for silliness was off the scale’

I was Yum-Yum in Jonathan’s original 1986 Mikado production when Eric Idle was Ko-Ko. It was like being in a comedy masterclass with the two of them. The rest of us would just be howling with laughter all day – their capacity for mutual silliness was off the scale. The now legendary production remains a highlight of my career – I will never forget it.

I also worked with Miller on a Don Giovanni, playing Zerlina when I was still in my 20s. He wanted to base the look of his production on some Goya paintings he knew, with one particular statue he’d seen in a museum in Istanbul a crucial part of the graveyard scene. This was before you could just Google these things and I didn’t know they looked like. I had to screw up my courage and say to him, in my direct Yorkshire way, “I’m sorry, I haven’t travelled like you have and I don’t know what these things look like.” He didn’t patronise me at all but simply brought in some books the next day to show me the works. Later, for a revival of the same production, I was pregnant and was anxious about telling him. But he was delighted. “Well darling, that’s wonderful,” he said. “It makes complete sense of Zerlina marrying that idiot Masseto. I’m going to insist that all my Zerlinas are pregnant from now on!”

Sir John Tomlinson, singer: ‘I was in awe of his mind’

He was life-enhancing. For over 50 years he has been a great joy to the nation. I was in his first ever opera production in 1974, Alexander Goehr’s Arden Must Die. Since then we’ve worked together many times. There was a fabulous Marriage of Figaro in 1978 at the Coliseum, the much-loved Rosenkavalier, his radical and vivid retelling of Rigoletto, and I’m currently singing the role of the Mikado in the opera’s 15th revival at English National Opera.

One was in awe of his mind – I remember in the Figaro that he set in 1789 he knew every detail of the period, from the politics to how they wore their hair to what vegetables they ate. Rehearsals were always a delight, and full of laughter, but he was very demanding, insistent that everything had to be convincing in a natural way.

Anything that felt contrived or exaggerated was total anathema. He might not have been a musician in the academic sense but he was incredibly sensitive to music, and understood its mystery and mysticism and its great emotional power. He always said, “I should be a doctor. I shouldn’t be doing all this theatrical nonsense.” He was simply a great human being and a huge loss to us all.

Lesley Manville, actor: ‘I had a massive crush on him’

I met Jonathan at the Old Vic in 1974 when it was the home of the National Theatre. I was a teenager and quite green. I’d done panto and a stint on Emmerdale Farm. So going into Beaumarchais’s play The Marriage of Figaro, directed by Jonathan Miller, I felt completely unqualified. I had a massive crush on him. He was the first man I’d worked with who had what I thought was a massive intellect and I found it thrilling. But he also had this ferocious sense of humour. It became this cocktail in my head of the perfect man.

Sometimes when I couldn’t quite achieve what I wanted to in the play he would come and do it for me. I know a lot of people who would think that’s the worst thing to do for an actor. But I absolutely loved it. He had this amazing voice – deep and velvety, very calming. What a life, crammed with so much: you get the impression that not a minute was wasted.

Jamie Ballard, actor: ‘He was so supportive – and so freeing’

Jonathan Miller directed me as Hamlet and it was a dream. The brain, the wit, the stories: he was fantastic. I auditioned at his house in Camden, which was stuffed with books and these wonderful metal sculptures he had made. I was terrified when he opened the door. I’d had no time to prepare. He just said: “Shall we have a quick read and see what happens?”

Jonathan had this unbelievable knowledge but you never once felt uncomfortable or embarrassed to be a mere mortal in his presence. He was so supportive – and so freeing. In Hamlet, he wasn’t tied to anything apart from the gravedigger scene which he didn’t want to be in any way sombre or melancholy. He wanted me to get my fingers into the eye sockets and really get dirty, examining what it is to not be.

He was staying in an apartment above our theatre, Bristol’s Tobacco Factory. We’d sit there and talk about grief, psychology, all kinds of things. I recorded all our conversations. Even just to have met him I would feel blessed but working with him was amazing. Seeing Jonathan’s face light up when his wife, Rachel, came into a room was a wonderful thing. After so many years together they were still so in love.

Susie Trayling, my co-star in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, has happy memories of working with Jonathan too. We’re dedicating today’s performances to him.

Andrew Shore, singer: ‘He knew how to loosen people’s imaginations’

I was at the beginning of my career in the chorus of Kent opera in 1979 when I first encountered him directing La Traviata. Since then we’ve worked together in many productions in many places and it was always an exciting, stimulating and above all entertaining experience.

He knew how to loosen people’s imaginations. He always said that rehearsing an opera is like being a child in a playground – you can let your imagination fly, and be playful and creative. Even when the scene we were doing was profound or serious there would be lots of laughter in the rehearsal room. I’m currently in his Mikado at English National Opera, a production that’s 33 years old but that still feels fresh and inspired and is bringing in new audiences to opera every sold out night.