Richard Monette is dead.

At 64, the giant of Canadian theatre has roared his last.

The last time I saw him -- a snaggle-toothed, rotund old lion of a man -- he was bored and wasted.

Tired of the spit of critics, emotionally drained from daily inconveniences running a mammoth theatre company, Monette was in physical and spiritual pain.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said, after keeping me waiting almost an hour. He had stayed too long at lunch, drunk too much wine, and his tongue was loose and lashing.

It was Monette's last month as artistic director of Canada's Stratford Festival. And he was not going gentle into that good night.

Fourteen years of clutching Stratford's reins had left him sadly burnt-out.

"Maybe I'll discover there's life after Stratford. I certainly hope so," he grinned.

Now, a year or so after we sat in that cluttered office, talking about his discontent with criticism, Richard Monette is dead of a pulmonary embolism.

One of the most beautiful actors of his day, he was enormously talented.

Watching him assume the decadent grace of Cleopatra, dressed in elegant drag as Michel Tremblay's Hosanna, breath was sucked out of you. You sat there in Toronto's Tarragon Theatre, wet with tears, stunned by the man's passion.

Later, in Martin Sherman's holocaust drama, Bent, Monette assaulted you again, his handsome body bathed in sweat, eyes shining, words flying upward in some spiritual epiphany. When he was good, Monette was very, very good.

As we talked that last time in 2007, Monette spoke of his shyness as a young man. Growing up in Montreal, son of alcoholic parents, he spoke of his early days as a Stratford spear carrier and how he worked his way up.

"I ran away to England," he said.

"I know," I said.

"I stood onstage naked in Oh! Calcutta! and The Dirtiest Show In Town."

"I know, I saw you," I nodded.

"Oh my God," he said. "How did I look?"

He was almost a bit of a narcissist.

We both laughed, and the shared experience cemented things nicely.

"I was shy," he nods. "Those naked experiences allowed me to lose my inhibitions. They allowed me to expose truth."

A love affair with actress Domini Blythe ended when they both realized he was gay. Still, they remained friends for life.

"I never wanted to lead Stratford," Monette told me candidly. "I was having too much fun onstage.

Still, Monette took on the behemoth. Why? Because he loved the festival and wanted to see it grow.

"I've faced terrible criticism, but I refused to be destroyed," he shrugged. "Certain critics, who shall go nameless, have been on my back from the start. Some of them are failed artists. Some failed in this very theatre. Maybe they're just jealous ... or maybe just vicious. Well, it doesn't matter now."

Since his retirement, Monette remained around the Stratford periphery, helping out with this season's Love's Labour's Lost when director Michael Langham was ill.

Richard Monette helped make Stratford a populist theatre. He established a training school for actors and directors interested in classical theatre. He influenced the building of a fourth theatre in the town. Most importantly, he loved the festival.

"We live in a country and a culture that doesn't take classical theatre seriously enough," Monette told me. "Long after Canadian Idol is dead, there will be Shakespeare. I take comfort in that."

And you know, he was right.

Good night, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Gary Smith has written on theatre and dance for The Hamilton Spectator for more than 25 years. He saw most of Monette's stage performances and productions.

Richard Monette

* Born in Montreal on June 14, 1944

* Played Hamlet at Toronto's Crest Theatre in 1964

* Debuted at Stratford Festival in 1965

* Oh! Calcutta! at London's Roundhouse in 1970

* Played Lucentio in Taming of the Shrew at Stratford in 1973

* Directed Shrew at Stratford in 1988

* Appointed Stratford's artistic director designate in 1992, assuming the role in 1994

* Retired in 2007 after 14 seasons

* Died in London, Ont., on Sept. 9, 2008