The Bittersweet Charm of Ben Whishaw as Paddington

The enduring appeal of the new film's version of the character has a great deal to do with the unique nature of the British actor's voice.

I forgot exactly when I first encountered Ben Whishaw. The first clear memory I have of seeing him in an actual film was Lilting, the touching and evocative gay drama about a young man bonding with his deceased lover’s mother (who doesn’t speak English). What struck me then, and in almost everything I’ve seen him in since is just how rich and textured his acting is, and how emotionally resonant his performances are, even when he is a secondary character (far too frequently the case, alas).

Perhaps it’s his soulful eyes, or the way that he seems to be the personification of what Richard Dyer once called the “sad young man,” a homosexual stereotype that speaks to the intersection of queer longing, desire, and temporality. Or, perhaps, it’s something more intangible than that: his voice. Soft and yet oddly resonant, a little sibilant yet firm, it somehow manages to conjoin a certain world-weariness with an undeniable sense of joy and wonder at the world. 

Which brings us, of course, to arguably one of his most notable and beloved recent roles, that of Paddington Bear. 

Somehow, I’d managed to miss watching either Paddington or its sequel, Paddington 2 when they were in theaters, or even once they were out on DVD and streaming. I was aware, of course, that they were both hugely popular, and that the sequel in particular briefly had a pure 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes (and here I’d like to say that person who left a mean review of such a gem of a film has definitely forgotten their manners, but I digress). 

So, in the Year of Our Lord 2022, I decided to fix this oversight on my part and, from the moment that that tiny little bear appeared, I was smitten, and a lot of this can be attributed to Ben Whishaw’s voice.

As any fan of animation knows, it’s often a bit hit-or-miss when it comes to having established live-action actors play beloved characters. After all, just because someone is a dynamic presence in a live-action film doesn’t mean that they have what it takes to be nothing more than a voice. From the moment that he appears, however, it’s clear that Whishaw is going to be the perfect Paddington. There is something enigmatic yet charismatic about the way that he delivers his lines, and his vocals mesh so perfectly with the animation that it’s hard to imagine anyone else fitting into the role (no small thing, considering Paddington was originally supposed to be played by another Brit with a distinctive voice, Colin Firth).

There is, moreover, also something wistful to this version of the character. This is fitting, since for so much of the first film (and part of the second) he is trying to find his place in the strange world of London (which is a far cry from his own home in “darkest Peru”). At the same time, Whishaw also allows us to feel Paddington’s sense of wonder as he explores London and all of the things it has to offer, whether it’s electric toothbrushes or the wonders of Samuel Gruber’s shop. 

Paddington’s unique mix of wistfulness and joy reaches its fullest expression at the end of Paddington 2. For the entire film, he’s been concerned about getting his Aunt Lucy a gift and, having been embroiled in a sinister plot by a faded actor desperately seeking relevance, it seems as if he’s failed. His voice is heartbreakingly vulnerable as he expresses his fear to his family who then reveal to him the biggest surprise of all: Aunt Lucy has come to him. 

I’m sure I’m not the only one who felt more than a little overwhelmed at the sight of this friendly little bear finally reunited with the mother figure who did so much for him. Once again, a great deal of the moment’s emotional impact comes from Whishaw’s voice: the sense of plaintive longing as he speaks of letting down Aunt Lucy, his wonder that so many of his friends have showed up and, of course, the wisp of joy once he embraces Aunt Lucy, who has been brought to London to join him.

This isn’t to say that Whishaw’s Paddington doesn’t have it in him to be firm, far from it. Just as Whishaw’s live-action characters disguise a steely interiority beneath their self-effacing and soft-spoken exterior, so Paddington can often give a very firm stare to those who have forgotten manners. One need think of the standoff with Henry Brown in the first film, or a similar moment with Brendan Gleeson’s Knuckles in the second, to see this in action, the little bear’s intense gaze matched by the firmness of Whishaw’s voice. 

Yet, as so often with the little bear, such moments of firmness are far outnumbered by moments of kindness and joy. Because of the graciousness of Whishaw’s vocal performance, we can well believe that this little creature doesn’t have it in him to be cruel or unkind to anyone, no matter how they might treat him. In fact, his generosity of spirit is precisely what makes these two films so beloved. They remind us all of the power of grace and kindness to bring about a better world. In a world which seems to reward cynicism with clicks and engagement, this is a very welcome ethos. 

It is fitting, then, that Paddington, as articulated and voiced by Whishaw, should have also become so associated with the outpouring of grief which greeted the death of Queen Elizabeth II in September. After all, who could forget the sweet little vignette that saw the late monarch having tea with the little bear, which ended with him charmingly thanking her for everything. Perhaps it is only with hindsight that this moment would become so meaningful, but for many it was the perfect expression of national gratitude.  

Now that Paddington 3 is on the horizon, I’m sure that I’m not the only one who is looking forward to spending more time with this most enchanting little creature. At this point, it’s hard to imagine anyone other than Whishaw doing the voice and, fortunately, it looks like I won’t have to.