When working on these pages, I had a long-running joke – or I think it was a joke – with Ronald Bergan about my filling out a line concerning the actor the dazzling 1950s British movie star Kay Kendall in one of his film obituaries that fell short. “I can write my own compliments,” he said.
Once he probed me about some peculiarly arcane piece of film lore, to which I could provide him with no adequate response. “No, you wouldn’t be able to,” said Ronald, “you’ve got a life.”
“I really don’t,” I protested, but to no avail. Ronald was very funny and a fine writer on film.
Nigel Fountain
In 1991 my colleague, Alec Lawrie, and I were lecturing on one of the country’s first media studies courses at Totton College, Southampton. We sought to broaden students’ cinematic horizons by running a small-scale film festival in conjunction with a long-closed Odeon cinema.
Ronald Bergan spent a day with us and our students, discussing French cinema in particular, but ranging far and wide. He was a lovely man, steeped in film history.
Stephen Hackett
