The Dresser

The film opens with a performance of Othello at a regional British theatre during World War II, with an aging actor known simply as Sir in the title role. He leads the company with bombastic gestures and grand oratory, treating himself as the stage patriarch. Norman, his dresser, waits backstage, quietly coping with Sir's temper while keeping a bottle of brandy close at hand. This opening establishes the power dynamic and the dependence that drives the rest of the story.

Norman waits backstage, carrying out Sir's whims with clinical efficiency and quiet deference. He keeps his nerves steady by taking a quick nip from a small brandy bottle. The two men have a long, almost symbiotic relationship, with Norman shielding Sir and Sir directing the troupe.

The troupe rushes to Bradford to perform King Lear. At York railway station, Norman hurries ahead to beg the guard to hold the train for Sir, who makes a stately, if frazzled, parade through the platform. Sir finally roars a command, STOP ... THAT ... TRAIN!, and the locomotive halts long enough for the company to board. The moment reveals Sir's stubborn authority still intact despite the fatigue.

Upon arrival in Bradford the company confronts a troubling sign of Sir's fading mind. Norman rescues him from a confused, almost violent outburst in Halifax town square near Piece Hall, an episode that lands Sir in hospital. The setback complicates the tour, forcing the company to rethink their schedule. Norman remains protective, determined to keep Sir in the show.

Sir unexpectedly arrives at the Bradford theatre disoriented and exhausted, insisting that he has discharged himself from hospital. Norman ushers him to the dressing room while the stage manager urges cancellation of the performance. Sir wills himself to go on, and Norman resists, maintaining the illusion that the show must go on. The first hints of the evening being a fight against Sir's illness are in display.

Most of the drama shifts to the dressing room, the true battleground where Norman prepares Sir for the curtain. Sir's wandering mind gradually focuses as Norman applies makeup and coaches him through lines. The two men depend on each other for survival, with Norman having sacrificed everything to serve Sir. The dressing room becomes a fragile sanctuary.

Her Ladyship, Sir's wife who plays Cordelia, arrives in the dressing room for the five minute call. Sir seems ready, though his thoughts still drift, and Norman nervously coordinates the routine. The other actors wait, improvising lines as Sir loses his entrance cue, while Norman contends with the clock and his own fear.

The curtain rises and the stage becomes a battlefield of minds. Sir falls briefly into confusion, but the company improvises as Norman frantically cues the other actors. Air raid sirens wail and distant bombs echo, but Sir recovers enough to deliver what many critics call his finest Lear performance. The moment blends danger and triumph as the war outside mirrors the struggle within Sir.

After the performance Sir collapses from exhaustion and is helped back to his dressing room. He asks Norman to read from an autobiography he claims to be writing. Norman reads aloud an affectionate dedication to the audience, to Shakespeare, and to the crew, but not to his dresser.

Norman discovers that Sir has written nothing beyond the opening dedication. As Norman reads, Sir dies, leaving him stunned and furious. In his anger he scribbles a self congratulatory addition to the dedication, just to feel seen, before collapsing into grief.

Overwhelmed by loss, Norman realizes that Sir has been the center of his life for decades and that he has loved him. The act of reading the book becomes a farewell, and Norman acknowledges the one life he has known. He writes a final line in memory of Sir and his own devotion.

The film closes with Norman sprawled across Sir's body, unwilling to let go of the life and identity that Sir gave him. The stage lights fade on their quiet, devastating bond. The legend of Sir and his faithful dresser ends with Norman's lingering, unspoken vow to carry the memory forward.