If All I Did Was Acting, I’d Go Out of My Mind: Sam Neill, 1947-2026

One of the ways I amuse myself when writing about people is by seeing how many letters I have to type into IMDb and Wikipedia before their names pop up. And I am here to tell you, I am sorely disappointed this morning. Especially with IMDb. Sure, Wikipedia has a lot of things that start with “sam” that are important and not even names. That’s reasonable; I think even Neill would understand why “same-sex marriage” comes up before he does. But why in the name of Gods would the first Sam IMDb thinks I am interested in today of all days is Sam Worthington?

Though technically, Sam Neill wasn’t a Sam. He was a Nigel. He was, in fact, Sir Nigel John Dermot Neill, though he felt the title of “sir” was “too grand by far.” Still, New Zealand rightly considered him one of their greatest actors, and he acquired several major honours through both New Zealand and the British Empire. He made films in multiple countries—Australia, New Zealand, Germany, and of course and famously the US. He’s probably one of the most recognizable Kiwis in the world.

In fact, this is the day I actually learn the plot of Until the End of the World, a movie I’ve never managed to get around to that I’ve loved the soundtrack of for decades; it was quite recently in regular rotation in my car. His breakout role was in My Brilliant Career—though I’m sure “Telephone Etiquette” is perfectly charming—and from there, he made well over a hundred movies and probably close to two hundred episodes of assorted TV shows and miniseries, and he produced the web series Cinema Quarantine.

And, yes, he was Dr. Grant. Everyone knows he was Alan Grant, paleontologist and rescuer of small children from the T. rex. (Trust me, that’s the proper way to write it.) The movie has aged . . . interestingly. The performances remain first-rate, including Neill’s, even if the science itself is iffy at best in places. I’ll freely admit the last movie in the series I’ve seen is The Lost World, because it appeared to be diminishing returns from there, but there’s a reason we all remain awed that Spielberg released it and Schindler’s List in the same year. It’s old enough for me to be firm that it is a damn classic.

But if we are talking favourite Sam Neill movies, let us spare a moment for The Dish, the movie he made about the Apollo 11 mission and the importance of Australia to it. It’s a charming movie. One of his best, and not just because he was in a fair few turkeys. (Children of the Revolution is an interesting idea poorly carried out, at least.) Most of the performers are unknown to Americans, though it includes a delightful turn from Patrick Warburton. But Sam Neill carries the movie, and he does so with grace and goodwill. There are worse tributes to the man that watching that movie.