When we talk about Joan Plowright and Laurence Olivier, it’s basically impossible not to bring up Vivien Leigh. She’s the ghost in the room. People love the high drama of Olivier’s second marriage—the "Gone with the Wind" glamour, the public breakdowns, and that tragic, sweeping romance that eventually burned itself out. But honestly? The real story, the one with the most substance, happened after the smoke cleared.
Joan Plowright wasn't just the "third wife" or a replacement. She was the woman who essentially saved Laurence Olivier from himself. Or at least, she gave him a place to land when he was exhausted from being a "legend." They were married for 28 years, right up until his death in 1989. That's a lifetime in show business.
The Scunthorpe Girl Meets the King of Theatre
They met in 1956. He was 49, the undisputed king of the British stage, and she was 27, a rising star with a reputation for being "earthed" and "real." She was performing in The Country Wife, and Olivier was absolutely floored by her. He later wrote in his autobiography that her name alone made him think "thoughts of love."
It wasn't a clean start. Far from it. Both were already married—Joan to actor Roger Gage and Laurence to Vivien Leigh. Their affair was a secret at first, a quiet storm brewing behind the scenes of the Royal Court Theatre.
But here’s the thing: Joan wasn't a porcelain doll. She was a "Plowright." Robust. Sensible. She came from Scunthorpe, and she brought a certain "no-nonsense" energy that Olivier desperately needed. He was used to the "violence and passion" of his life with Vivien. With Joan, he found something he called a "gentle tenderness and serenity." He once wrote to her saying that just thinking of her made him walk down the street with a smile for everyone.
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Why Their Partnership Changed British Theatre Forever
You’ve probably heard of the National Theatre in London. Well, we sort of owe its soul to Joan. When they married in 1961 (a quick ceremony in Connecticut, of all places), she didn't just move into his house; she moved into his head.
Olivier was the establishment. He was the old guard. Joan was part of the "new radical generation." She was the one who pushed him to hire Kenneth Tynan as the literary manager for the National Theatre. She was the one who nudged him toward gritty, modern directors like John Dexter.
Basically, she dragged the "Greatest Actor in the World" into the modern era.
Working Together on Screen and Stage
They weren't just a couple; they were a professional unit. If you want to see the spark, you’ve gotta watch the 1960 film version of The Entertainer.
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- The Entertainer (1960): Joan plays Jean Rice, the daughter of Olivier’s Archie Rice. It’s meta, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s brilliant.
- Three Sisters (1970): Olivier directed her as Masha in this Chekhov classic. He even kept a portrait of her in that role in his study for the rest of his life.
- The Merchant of Venice (1973): She played Portia to his Shylock in a televised version that people still talk about in drama schools.
Life Behind the Legend: The Reality of Being Lady Olivier
People think being married to a Lord and a theatrical titan is all champagne and standing ovations. Joan was pretty candid later in life—it was "a bit of a nightmare" sometimes.
Olivier was a Gemini, and Joan often said he had "two lives." One was the glamour and the idolatry, and the other was the reality of a man struggling with his health and the weight of his own reputation. He suffered from phlebitis, muscle disorders, and the constant fear of losing his memory. Joan was the one who held the fort.
They had three kids: Richard, Tamsin, and Julie-Kate. All of them ended up in the industry in some way. But Joan had to navigate a lot of baggage. She even had to deal with the "Vivien fans" who never quite forgave her for not being the tragic heroine Leigh was.
She once told The Daily Telegraph that she felt it was her "choice" to live with him and that she was "privileged" to do so, but she didn't shy away from the fact that he was "over-the-top."
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The Later Years and Joan’s Own Legacy
After Laurence died in 1989 at the age of 82, a weird thing happened. Joan Plowright didn't just become a "famous widow." She became a massive movie star in her own right.
If you grew up in the 90s, you probably know her from Dennis the Menace (she was the sweet Mrs. Wilson) or 101 Dalmatians. She won two Golden Globes in one night for Enchanted April and Stalin. She wasn't just "Olivier's wife" anymore; she was Dame Joan Plowright, a powerhouse who worked well into her 80s until macular degeneration forced her to retire in 2014.
She lived to be 95, passing away in January 2025. She spent her final decade in Sussex, surrounded by friends like Judi Dench and Maggie Smith. If you haven't seen the documentary Nothing Like a Dame (or Tea with the Dames), go watch it. Seeing Joan, Judi, and Maggie sit around drinking tea and gossiping about their lives is the most humanizing look at theatre royalty you'll ever get.
What We Can Learn From Their Story
The Joan Plowright and Laurence Olivier saga isn't a fairy tale. It’s a story about two people who were incredibly talented and remarkably complicated.
- Look for the "Earthed" Partner: Olivier was a firework; he needed someone like Joan to be the ground. If you’re a high-energy "creative" type, find your "Plowright"—the person who keeps you sane when the lights go out.
- Professional Synergy Matters: They didn't just live together; they built something. Their work at the National Theatre shaped British culture for half a century.
- Independence is Key: Joan never lost herself in his shadow. She waited her turn, supported him, and then conquered Hollywood on her own terms after he was gone.
If you’re interested in diving deeper into their world, I highly recommend reading Joan’s memoir, And That's Not All. It’s honest, funny, and lacks the self-importance you usually find in celebrity autobiographies. It’s the best way to understand the woman who kept the greatest actor of the 20th century on his toes.