Mr Burton: English actors show the Welsh how it's done

Also Richard spoke welsh as a child and always spoke welsh to his family. I wonder if that is in the film? Likely not given the casting.

He only learned to speak English, when he went down to “Big School” down in Port Talbot, when he was around 5/6 years old.

I love Toby Jones and he's a great choice to draw a wider audience, but academy award nominee or not, Lesley Manville didn't need to be cast in her role. And in terms of the role of Richard going to a relative unknown from England!? I'm sure we have enough home-grown talent to capably fill such great boots! But time after time, we in Wales placidly accept this! Imagine other nations accepting such cultural appropriation! We have so many stories to tell and it's so difficult for those stories to be heard in the first place. It does seem that when they are heard, they don't have a Welsh voice.

Two recent productions mentioned in this article, where Welsh actors have been overlooked for decent parts in favour of 'bums on seats' non Welsh actors, were directed and presumably cast by the same....wait for it...Welsh (speaking) director. Funds from the Senedd for Welsh productions seem to find their way straight to Islington bank accounts. It makes one wonder how Richard Burton himself would have fared if he had lived and worked in the Wales of today. Most probably he'd still be doing TIE on Caldey Island.

Play nicely, Arthur! Share your opinions by all means, but it's not kind to denigrate other users of this platform by accusing them of possessing puerile attitudes.

Haven’t seen the film yet, but I’m really looking forward to it. As someone from the area, I’ve heard so many Richard Burton stories over the years, but my favourite has to be the time he and Elizabeth Taylor descended upon Pontrhydyfen at the height of their fame. They flew first-class Pan Am from LA to London—Burton draped in a three-quarter-length mink coat, Taylor immaculate in head-to-toe Chanel. A private helicopter whisked them from Heathrow to Port Talbot, where they were met by a huge Cadillac. The village schoolchildren had been given the day off and lined the streets waving Welsh flags. And where did Hollywood’s most famous couple go first? Not Claridge’s, not the Savoy, but straight to the modest terraced home of Cis, the sister who raised him. “Cis, Cis—dwi adre!” (“Cis, Cis—I’m home!”) he announced. “A dyma Elizabeth.” (“And this is Elizabeth.”) At the time, they were the highest-paid actor and actress in the world, having just starred in Antony and Cleopatra. Naturally, Cis made them tea and cut them a slice of cake. After a polite amount of tea-drinking, Burton asked, “Ond ble ma Dada?” (“But where’s Dad?”) “Lawr yn y Clwb,” (“Down at the Club”) said Cis disapprovingly, because it was still early in the day—though, of course, such concerns had never particularly troubled Richard. So off he went, dragging Elizabeth to the working men’s club, because he wasn’t a man to let a thirst go unquenched. They walked in to find the vast, echoing bar almost entirely empty—save for one man sitting alone, staring forlornly into his pint. His father. Also Richard. “Dada, Dada—dwi adre!” (“Dad, Dad—I’m home!”) Burton cried. “A dyma fy wraig, Elizabeth.” (“And this is my wife, Elizabeth.”) His father slowly lifted his glass, took a sip, put it back down, exhaled deeply, and finally looked up at the most famous actor in the world. “Atgoffa fi ‘to—pa un o’r saith wyt?” (“Remind me again—which one of the seven are you?”) Melvyn Bragg’s book doesn’t have these exact anecdotes, but it does have plenty of great ones that capture the essence of Burton’s charm. And if you want to understand the sheer charisma of the man, look no further than his Parkinson interview—recorded in the morning to ensure Burton was still sober. I don’t understand why Stephen Price takes such a negative tone in his article. Securing actors like Toby Jones would have been essential to getting this film financed, and he plays Philip Burton—who, to my knowledge, was English anyway. And the claim that “Welshmen don’t get cast in English roles” is patently untrue. Look no further than Anthony Hopkins and Michael Sheen, both born so close to Burton that they probably heard Cis buttering Elizabeth Taylor’s bara brith. I imagine this was a very difficult film to finance, and whoever managed it deserves congratulations. Part of that process would have involved assembling a cast that could offer at least a glimmer of hope for a return on investment. One last story. A friend of mine was making a low-budget programme on Richard Burton for S4C—if I recall correctly, it was to celebrate what would have been his 70th birthday. He went to see Hilda, who I believe was Burton’s last surviving sister. A fluent Welsh speaker and a delightful woman, she welcomed him into her home, made him tea, and sat bolt upright in the kind of armchair beloved by elderly women everywhere, with an early-model cordless phone sitting on the coffee table beside her. At one point, discussing Elizabeth Taylor—whom the family adored—she suddenly said, “Pam na wnewch holi Elizabeth?” (“Why don’t you ask Elizabeth?”) With that, she leaned to the side, reached under her chair cushion, and pulled out a stiff piece of shirt cardboard—a type of thin, rigid board used to keep shirts from creasing in packaging. Written on it were the personal phone numbers of some of the world’s biggest movie stars. Without hesitation, she picked up the phone, called Elizabeth Taylor, and had a long, casual chat. Taylor readily agreed to be interviewed and, of course, for no fee. Unfortunately, my friend never secured the funding to fly to LA. Still, there’s something wonderfully surreal about the thought of an old Welsh woman, sitting in her terraced house, casually dialing Hollywood royalty on a phone that looked like it came free with a BT landline deal. And the way Hilda, in her excitement, reached under her chair cushion to retrieve that phone number list was not unlike the way Les Dawson would portray a Lancashire housewife desperately trying to keep up with her social-climbing friend—legs akimbo, constantly adjusting her bosom, and puffing out her chest in a comically stiff and somewhat unladylike manner. It was that level of understated, awkward charm.

The irony of course being that Richard Burton - a Welsh-speaking, working class Welshman - is arguably the greatest actor the British Isles has ever produced…

This rhetoric is nothing more than protectionism. So, beware struggling Welsh actors when other white ethnic groups start to do the same (namely English and Americans). Personally, I prefer historical characters to be played by the closet modern group but that is for accuracy but even I can see where this can lead. If you want Welsh leads for Welsh stories then sort out the funding so that such stories can be made and shared.

If casting English to fake the Welsh is about big names and therefore bums on seats how is it I've never heard of the boy playing Rich? Also he looks sweet, handsome a lady's lounge lover. Richard had a rough edge to his sleek sexisness. This English lad is fine in his own way but anaemic compared to Burton. Burton wasn't just a brilliant actor and irresistibly sexy romantic looking, he was a messy drunk at times violent very much a valleys boy. This actor is nothing like that.

No surprises there, our stories are always appropriated by Anglo-Brit establishment and presented as twee, quaint little Wales. Welsh identity expressed in English is invisible to the world.

I take my dog alone that viaduct and in the mountains behind it very often. In fact his house, where he was born, is directly underneath this huge viaduct....it has a plaque in the window telling you he was born there.

So the next time Welsh actors are asked to play English (or other nationalities) roles will they be stopped? It's called ACTING!! This whole hoo-ha is ridiculous. Straight people aren't allowed to play gay roles either in some people's opinions. Should Toby Jones have been allowed to play a postmaster as I'm sure he's never been one in real life!? AWhat's the point of acting if you can't step out of your own life?

All you have to do is say 'I am Welsh' and you are. Self ID. So this article is nonsense

Many great Welsh actors are getting parts as English or Americans, etc I Don't think there's any discrimination going on here. It's called acting

Just watched 'The Banshees of Inisherin'. What an absolute triumph! Imagine! A nation able to say 'This is who we are!' And not a fake accent to be heard anywhere!

I just saw the film and thought Toby Jones and Lesley Manvilles accents were dreadful, also seemed inconsistent. But did notice they were both listed as executive producers, so perhaps were very involved with getting the film made.