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Jeremy Brett in Film ：
My Fair Lady, 1964
Role Freddy Eynsford-Hill
Also: Making of My Fair Lady, 1994
War and Peace, 1956
Role: Nicholas Rostov
Moll Flanders, 1996
Role: Artist's father
Shameless, 1995
aka Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Role: Tony Vernon-Smith
The Medusa Touch, 1978
Role: Edward Parrish
Act of Reprisal, 1965
Role: Harvey Freeman
Girl in the Headlines, 1963
Role: Jordan Barker
The Wild and the Willing, 1962
Role: Andrew Gilby
The Very Edge, 1962
Role: Mullen
Svengali, 1954
Role: Pierre, uncredited
My Fair Lady, 1964
Role Freddy Eynsford-Hill
Also: Making of My Fair Lady, 1994
War and Peace, 1956
Role: Nicholas Rostov
Moll Flanders, 1996
Role: Artist's father
Shameless, 1995
aka Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Role: Tony Vernon-Smith
The Medusa Touch, 1978
Role: Edward Parrish
Act of Reprisal, 1965
Role: Harvey Freeman
Girl in the Headlines, 1963
Role: Jordan Barker
The Wild and the Willing, 1962
Role: Andrew Gilby
The Very Edge, 1962
Role: Mullen
Svengali, 1954
Role: Pierre, uncredited
几段Jeremy的家人或朋友对他的回忆
Anna Massey
Jeremy and Anna married May 26, 1958, and were divorced Nov. 9,
1962. Their son, David, was born Aug. 14, 1959.
（Here are some excerpts about Jeremy from Anna's autobiography,
Telling Some Tales:(Amazon U.S. // Amazon U.K.)）
When I had been in The Reluctant Debutante in New York, I had met
briefly with the cast of the Old Vic Theatre, who were performing
Troilus and Cressida on Broadway. Jeremy Brett was playing Troilus,
and like most of the young girls who came into contact with him, I
fell under his spell. At this stage I didn't get to know him well,
but his charm and enthusiasm were very powerful attributes. Soon
after our meeting, I came back to London and Jeremy remained in New
York. ... I was beginning the tortuously long run of Dear Delinquent.
There was no time for romance of a serious nature.
However, during the run I did meet up with the dashing Jeremy
again. He came to a party that Mother gave ... and the next day ...
out of the blue, he said, "You must find somewhere to live where you
are not under your mother's dominance." He was quite right.
Jeremy was the most complex of men. He was eccentric and often
embarrassing in his outspokenness. ... He saw my difficulties at home
and helped me find the initiative to break away. This was some feat,
for I was frightened and still needy of the nest for creature
comforts.
But I did break away. I found myself a room in Ebury Street. This
liberated me to a certain extent, and allowed my romance with Mr.
Brett to blossom. But I must stress that our romance was of the
purest kind. We could have been in a Jane Austen novel. In fact, I
suspect there was quite a bit of play-acting in the air. When Jeremy
embarrassed me with his exuberances, I simply thought, "I can change
him." What very dangerous territory I was entering.
I think I must have been one of the last virgin brides. It was
largely accepted in those days that young girls saved themselves for
marriage. I saved myself simply from fear.
I had flirted up until this time, kissed and held hands, and had
romantic friendships, but had fled from any serious commitment. It
was Jeremy's intuition that had enabled me to break through that
barrier and unleash my feelings. He did not know what strong emotions
he was releasing.
We had a very big, showy wedding [on May 24, 1958]. ... Of course,
it was not entirely a fairytale wedding; my father [actor Raymond
Massey] had flown over, and expected to give me away. I was torn in
two. My stepfather, Bill, was the one who had paid for the wedding,
and it was he who had been around for most of my childhood. But of
course, Father was my father, and he had come to play his part. ...
They fought their duel silently with velvet weaponry, and left me
Anna Massey
Jeremy and Anna married May 26, 1958, and were divorced Nov. 9,
1962. Their son, David, was born Aug. 14, 1959.
（Here are some excerpts about Jeremy from Anna's autobiography,
Telling Some Tales:(Amazon U.S. // Amazon U.K.)）
When I had been in The Reluctant Debutante in New York, I had met
briefly with the cast of the Old Vic Theatre, who were performing
Troilus and Cressida on Broadway. Jeremy Brett was playing Troilus,
and like most of the young girls who came into contact with him, I
fell under his spell. At this stage I didn't get to know him well,
but his charm and enthusiasm were very powerful attributes. Soon
after our meeting, I came back to London and Jeremy remained in New
York. ... I was beginning the tortuously long run of Dear Delinquent.
There was no time for romance of a serious nature.
However, during the run I did meet up with the dashing Jeremy
again. He came to a party that Mother gave ... and the next day ...
out of the blue, he said, "You must find somewhere to live where you
are not under your mother's dominance." He was quite right.
Jeremy was the most complex of men. He was eccentric and often
embarrassing in his outspokenness. ... He saw my difficulties at home
and helped me find the initiative to break away. This was some feat,
for I was frightened and still needy of the nest for creature
comforts.
But I did break away. I found myself a room in Ebury Street. This
liberated me to a certain extent, and allowed my romance with Mr.
Brett to blossom. But I must stress that our romance was of the
purest kind. We could have been in a Jane Austen novel. In fact, I
suspect there was quite a bit of play-acting in the air. When Jeremy
embarrassed me with his exuberances, I simply thought, "I can change
him." What very dangerous territory I was entering.
I think I must have been one of the last virgin brides. It was
largely accepted in those days that young girls saved themselves for
marriage. I saved myself simply from fear.
I had flirted up until this time, kissed and held hands, and had
romantic friendships, but had fled from any serious commitment. It
was Jeremy's intuition that had enabled me to break through that
barrier and unleash my feelings. He did not know what strong emotions
he was releasing.
We had a very big, showy wedding [on May 24, 1958]. ... Of course,
it was not entirely a fairytale wedding; my father [actor Raymond
Massey] had flown over, and expected to give me away. I was torn in
two. My stepfather, Bill, was the one who had paid for the wedding,
and it was he who had been around for most of my childhood. But of
course, Father was my father, and he had come to play his part. ...
They fought their duel silently with velvet weaponry, and left me
to make the choice. I wish I could have been original, and suggest they both take me up the aisle... But I suspect not even that solution
would have satisfied them. Finally, there was a scene at Claridge's,
where father was staying. I told him that I had decided to ask Bill
to give me away. Father blew a gasket, and Dorothy declared that they
would leave immediately for the states—the insult was more than
Father could bear. ...
If only one of them had whispered to me that they really didn't
mind, or had offered to step down—but I was given no such respite.
The cloud was cast over the whole proceedings.
The other cloud was caused by my mother telling me on the eve of
the great day that she would cancel the whole thing if I wanted her
to. She did not want me to marry Jeremy, but had never said so
directly. I think by saying that I could get out of it even at this
late hour, she showed how deeply she felt about it all. But, I didn't
flee like the heroine in Anita Brookner's Hotel du Lac, and the
wedding proceeded with pomp and ceremony. Anthony Armstrong Jones
took the photographs.
The Bishop of Coventry officiated, and I remember him saying in
his address that "Your paths may not always be strewn with roses,"
and thinking how wrong he was. I was certain that our paths would
always be romantic and peaceful.
But the day itself was a very happy one, filled with children and
laughter and hope. Jeremy was in Terence Rattigan's Variation on a
Theme with Margaret Leighton at the time, and had to leave early for
the evening performance. I spent the evening at another theatre with
my voice teacher, Iris Warren, until I met Jeremy at the Savoy for
our Wedding Night. The world of show business, society, politics and
close friends had attended the celebrations, and it was nice to spend
some quiet time with Iris before the romantic night ahead of me.
Iris was a renowned teacher, who for many years was to play an
important part in my acting life. She delivered me to the Savoy, and I waited for Jeremy in the suite that had been recommended by Moss
Hart and his wife, Kitty Carlyle.
Looking back on the episode, I feel that Jeremy and I were like
two actors waiting to play the most important romantic scene of their
careers. It didn't feel completely real. However, the weekend passed
very happily, and Jeremy played his part with tenderness and
understanding. The bride was radiantly content.
~~~
When The Elder Statesman finished, I found out that I was
pregnant. Jeremy was working, so I spent a lot of my pregnancy alone. I remember it as one of the calmest periods of my life.
David was born three days after my twenty-second birthday. We
were thrilled with him. But when he was just three months old,
would have satisfied them. Finally, there was a scene at Claridge's,
where father was staying. I told him that I had decided to ask Bill
to give me away. Father blew a gasket, and Dorothy declared that they
would leave immediately for the states—the insult was more than
Father could bear. ...
If only one of them had whispered to me that they really didn't
mind, or had offered to step down—but I was given no such respite.
The cloud was cast over the whole proceedings.
The other cloud was caused by my mother telling me on the eve of
the great day that she would cancel the whole thing if I wanted her
to. She did not want me to marry Jeremy, but had never said so
directly. I think by saying that I could get out of it even at this
late hour, she showed how deeply she felt about it all. But, I didn't
flee like the heroine in Anita Brookner's Hotel du Lac, and the
wedding proceeded with pomp and ceremony. Anthony Armstrong Jones
took the photographs.
The Bishop of Coventry officiated, and I remember him saying in
his address that "Your paths may not always be strewn with roses,"
and thinking how wrong he was. I was certain that our paths would
always be romantic and peaceful.
But the day itself was a very happy one, filled with children and
laughter and hope. Jeremy was in Terence Rattigan's Variation on a
Theme with Margaret Leighton at the time, and had to leave early for
the evening performance. I spent the evening at another theatre with
my voice teacher, Iris Warren, until I met Jeremy at the Savoy for
our Wedding Night. The world of show business, society, politics and
close friends had attended the celebrations, and it was nice to spend
some quiet time with Iris before the romantic night ahead of me.
Iris was a renowned teacher, who for many years was to play an
important part in my acting life. She delivered me to the Savoy, and I waited for Jeremy in the suite that had been recommended by Moss
Hart and his wife, Kitty Carlyle.
Looking back on the episode, I feel that Jeremy and I were like
two actors waiting to play the most important romantic scene of their
careers. It didn't feel completely real. However, the weekend passed
very happily, and Jeremy played his part with tenderness and
understanding. The bride was radiantly content.
~~~
When The Elder Statesman finished, I found out that I was
pregnant. Jeremy was working, so I spent a lot of my pregnancy alone. I remember it as one of the calmest periods of my life.
David was born three days after my twenty-second birthday. We
were thrilled with him. But when he was just three months old,
Jeremy's mother was tragically killed in a car crash in the Welsh
mountains. It was the most enormous shock for Jeremy, and from this
time on, our marriage suffered greatly. I was filming Peeping Tom,
and was not around to give him essential support. But, looking
back, I doubt that I would have been of much help. His mother's death
released Jeremy from past restraints. He changed, and our
relationship never really recovered.
...After the filming of Peeping Tom, I was at home enjoying my
new son and trying not to dwell on my marriage, which was not in a
good state. I kept all my fears and doubts about this to myself, for
there was no one I could comfortably confide in. I dreaded Mother, or
Bill, or Nanny saying "I told you so." I kept hoping that perhaps
everything would work out in some magical way.
I think that one of the main problems was that Jeremy had released
enormous passions in me, and these were a great and insurmountable
burden for him. He had really wanted to make the marriage work, but
my emotional demands were too much for him. We both needed to talk to
someone, but in those days, that was not easy like it is today. So we
battled on, each of us growing unhappier as the days went by.
In the spring of 1959, I was asked to play the role of Ralph
Richardson’s daughter in Enid Bagnold’s The Last Joke. ... I felt
very torn. Part of me wanted to be at home with my son, and the
actress in me wanted the challenge and excitement of acting with
Ralph and John Gielgud. The actress won.
It was during The Last Joke that Jeremy left me. I was
devastated. I could hardly summon the will or the energy to go to the
theatre each night. ... Soon after The Last Joke ended, Jeremy
returned. It was a fragile reunion, and I felt I was being tested. I
desperately wanted to make the marriage work, although I don't think
Jeremy was very hopeful.
In the late autumn of 1960 I was asked to audition for ... The
Miracle Worker. I didn't think I stood a chance ... and was told
fairly quickly that I had not got the part, and Jeremy and I
planned a trip to Tenerife to try to patch up our marriage. As we
walked into our room at the hotel, the telephone rang. ... They
wanted me to play Annie Sullivan after all. ... In the end it was
decided that I would stay for a week in Tenerife and return for
rehearsals. This was the death knell for my marriage, but also the
turning point of my career.
... It was during this run that Jeremy left me for good. He had gone
to Switzerland for a holiday, and when he came home, he told me that
he had found someone else, a man he had met in Montreux. It was the
most enormous shock, but somehow, deep down, I had suspected it. In a
way, it was almost a great relief. Jeremy was honest with me, and
told me as gently as he could. We parted, and David, Nanny (who had
mountains. It was the most enormous shock for Jeremy, and from this
time on, our marriage suffered greatly. I was filming Peeping Tom,
and was not around to give him essential support. But, looking
back, I doubt that I would have been of much help. His mother's death
released Jeremy from past restraints. He changed, and our
relationship never really recovered.
...After the filming of Peeping Tom, I was at home enjoying my
new son and trying not to dwell on my marriage, which was not in a
good state. I kept all my fears and doubts about this to myself, for
there was no one I could comfortably confide in. I dreaded Mother, or
Bill, or Nanny saying "I told you so." I kept hoping that perhaps
everything would work out in some magical way.
I think that one of the main problems was that Jeremy had released
enormous passions in me, and these were a great and insurmountable
burden for him. He had really wanted to make the marriage work, but
my emotional demands were too much for him. We both needed to talk to
someone, but in those days, that was not easy like it is today. So we
battled on, each of us growing unhappier as the days went by.
In the spring of 1959, I was asked to play the role of Ralph
Richardson’s daughter in Enid Bagnold’s The Last Joke. ... I felt
very torn. Part of me wanted to be at home with my son, and the
actress in me wanted the challenge and excitement of acting with
Ralph and John Gielgud. The actress won.
It was during The Last Joke that Jeremy left me. I was
devastated. I could hardly summon the will or the energy to go to the
theatre each night. ... Soon after The Last Joke ended, Jeremy
returned. It was a fragile reunion, and I felt I was being tested. I
desperately wanted to make the marriage work, although I don't think
Jeremy was very hopeful.
In the late autumn of 1960 I was asked to audition for ... The
Miracle Worker. I didn't think I stood a chance ... and was told
fairly quickly that I had not got the part, and Jeremy and I
planned a trip to Tenerife to try to patch up our marriage. As we
walked into our room at the hotel, the telephone rang. ... They
wanted me to play Annie Sullivan after all. ... In the end it was
decided that I would stay for a week in Tenerife and return for
rehearsals. This was the death knell for my marriage, but also the
turning point of my career.
... It was during this run that Jeremy left me for good. He had gone
to Switzerland for a holiday, and when he came home, he told me that
he had found someone else, a man he had met in Montreux. It was the
most enormous shock, but somehow, deep down, I had suspected it. In a
way, it was almost a great relief. Jeremy was honest with me, and
told me as gently as he could. We parted, and David, Nanny (who had
I knew from the age of three that I never wanted to become an actor myself. At Christmas I dreaded charades, a game at which everyone else in my family excelled. Having no desire to stand out from the crowd, I kept quiet about my parents' work when I started school. It helped that my father acted under the name of Jeremy Brett, and my mother under her maiden name, Anna Massey.
It also helped that I was in the same class as the son of a producer of the James Bond films. Thanks to his father, Salzman Jr acquired 007 toys months before they were available in the shops. Among classmates, then, my own background seemed happily drab by comparison. My mother was a working single parent, but she mostly acted in the theatre in the evenings so we could spend the days together, and she turned jobs down if they conflicted with school holidays. My father took me out every weekend, and we'd often visit actor friends who had children of my age.
There was a degree of camaraderie among the offspring of actors, and I soon came to appreciate my own parents' relative normality. The son of one comedy actor had a seemingly enviable existence - running wild and unschooled, zooming around on a motorbike at 14 and smoking marijuana - though, in retrospect, it looks a nightmare.
It also helped that I was in the same class as the son of a producer of the James Bond films. Thanks to his father, Salzman Jr acquired 007 toys months before they were available in the shops. Among classmates, then, my own background seemed happily drab by comparison. My mother was a working single parent, but she mostly acted in the theatre in the evenings so we could spend the days together, and she turned jobs down if they conflicted with school holidays. My father took me out every weekend, and we'd often visit actor friends who had children of my age.
There was a degree of camaraderie among the offspring of actors, and I soon came to appreciate my own parents' relative normality. The son of one comedy actor had a seemingly enviable existence - running wild and unschooled, zooming around on a motorbike at 14 and smoking marijuana - though, in retrospect, it looks a nightmare.
When my father presented me with a motorbike for my 18th birthday, my parents happened to be working together on a television adaptation of Rebecca. My mother was so angry with him that they ignored each other for the entire filming. At the time, I took my father's side, but now my sympathies lie more with my mother. It was the first time they'd fallen out openly, and the row pinpointed the fact that they were, by nature, opposites. My mother is cerebral, cautious and organised, while my father was intuitive and impulsive. I suspect that the easy rapport they seemed to share when I was a child might be due to the fact that they were professional actors as well as caring parents. I can still hear them battling out their differences in my head: my father urging me to take risks; my mother advising me to think things through.
My maternal grandfather had lived in Los Angeles ever since I was born, and when I was a teenager my father also bought a house in the Hollywood Hills. Understudying my own adulthood in the buttoned-up half-light of 1970s London, Los Angeles looked like a Technicolor paradise. Low-riders cruised Sunset Strip. You could still smoke in bars and restaurants. And when people said "Have a nice day", they meant it. They were "laid back". An English accent retained its novelty value, but after several visits, I learned to lay back a lit tle myself.
At Christmas, scaled-down Santa sleighs, reindeer and polystyrene snow decorated front lawns in 70-degree heat. Just along the road from my grandfather's house, Rodeo Drive teemed with rhinestone- encrusted stetsons, and women in leopard-skin leotards. LA may have been given to excess, but it was also liberal and unselfconscious, the fastest-growing city in the world, portrayed as a melting pot of post-Watts racial harmony - a model for the cities of the 21st century.
My maternal grandfather had lived in Los Angeles ever since I was born, and when I was a teenager my father also bought a house in the Hollywood Hills. Understudying my own adulthood in the buttoned-up half-light of 1970s London, Los Angeles looked like a Technicolor paradise. Low-riders cruised Sunset Strip. You could still smoke in bars and restaurants. And when people said "Have a nice day", they meant it. They were "laid back". An English accent retained its novelty value, but after several visits, I learned to lay back a lit tle myself.
At Christmas, scaled-down Santa sleighs, reindeer and polystyrene snow decorated front lawns in 70-degree heat. Just along the road from my grandfather's house, Rodeo Drive teemed with rhinestone- encrusted stetsons, and women in leopard-skin leotards. LA may have been given to excess, but it was also liberal and unselfconscious, the fastest-growing city in the world, portrayed as a melting pot of post-Watts racial harmony - a model for the cities of the 21st century.
A visit to my cousin Nathaniel at his film school in Santa Barbara made university life in England seem very unappealing. Nathaniel windsurfed every afternoon (a recent innovation), drove a convertible, and lived in a condo beside the beach with his blonde girlfriend. In stark contrast to Cambridge, nobody ever seemed to have a head cold in southern California, and everybody had a tan.
Even then, though, LA was the world capital of narcissism. Strolling on Santa Monica pier one winter's day, my father and I were surprised by Vincent Price and his wife Coral Browne emerging, preening and silver-tongued, from the fog. Another time, on Hollywood Boulevard, we pulled up alongside a pearl-grey sports car barely big enough to contain the bleached, back-combed mane of David Lee Roth. One glimpse of the Van Halen singer staring fixedly ahead, eyebrows creased as the tourists gawked, made it clear that he carried the same virus as Charles Bronson: self-obsession.
Soon after leaving university, when I was starting work as an illustrator and cartoonist, my grandfather died. My father returned to Britain to portray Sherlock Holmes on TV; my mother produced and starred in Hotel du Lac, then fell in love with and married my stepfather Uri Andres, a professor of metallurgy. I went on to write two novels.
Returning to LA in 1999 for the first time in 15 years, the changes in the city came as a shock. In the wake of the Rodney King riots, a kind of apartheid was operating. The cars had shrunk and the inhabitants had become as driven and uptight as those of any other major western city. In Rodeo Drive, the shoppers appeared greedy and depressed. But my view was almost certainly coloured by the fact that both my grandfather and my father had died since my last trip. Re-visiting our old haunts, I suffered an acute sense of loss.
In a hotel on Sunset, towards the end of my stay, I found myself waiting for the elevator with a well-known actor, himself the son of an actor I recall holding court wearing a kaftan at a 1970s drinks party. Unaware that he was being observed, the son licked a finger and ran it over his eyebrow before greeting a PR with a cry of simulated joy. As the three of us waited for the elevator, he regaled the PR with a tedious anecdote about himself, and, once inside, updated her on every detail of what had happened to him over the past 12 hours.
By the time I stepped into the lobby, I'd begun to entertain the possibility not only that PRs might actually be underpaid, but that there might be a genetic component to his condition. What made him so desperate to win the love and attention of perfect strangers? The actor's clinical self- involvement could so easily have deepened my despair but, in fact, it did just the reverse: it inspired me to write a new novel, set in LA, about three generations of an acting dynasty. A family very different, thankfully, from my own.
Even then, though, LA was the world capital of narcissism. Strolling on Santa Monica pier one winter's day, my father and I were surprised by Vincent Price and his wife Coral Browne emerging, preening and silver-tongued, from the fog. Another time, on Hollywood Boulevard, we pulled up alongside a pearl-grey sports car barely big enough to contain the bleached, back-combed mane of David Lee Roth. One glimpse of the Van Halen singer staring fixedly ahead, eyebrows creased as the tourists gawked, made it clear that he carried the same virus as Charles Bronson: self-obsession.
Soon after leaving university, when I was starting work as an illustrator and cartoonist, my grandfather died. My father returned to Britain to portray Sherlock Holmes on TV; my mother produced and starred in Hotel du Lac, then fell in love with and married my stepfather Uri Andres, a professor of metallurgy. I went on to write two novels.
Returning to LA in 1999 for the first time in 15 years, the changes in the city came as a shock. In the wake of the Rodney King riots, a kind of apartheid was operating. The cars had shrunk and the inhabitants had become as driven and uptight as those of any other major western city. In Rodeo Drive, the shoppers appeared greedy and depressed. But my view was almost certainly coloured by the fact that both my grandfather and my father had died since my last trip. Re-visiting our old haunts, I suffered an acute sense of loss.
In a hotel on Sunset, towards the end of my stay, I found myself waiting for the elevator with a well-known actor, himself the son of an actor I recall holding court wearing a kaftan at a 1970s drinks party. Unaware that he was being observed, the son licked a finger and ran it over his eyebrow before greeting a PR with a cry of simulated joy. As the three of us waited for the elevator, he regaled the PR with a tedious anecdote about himself, and, once inside, updated her on every detail of what had happened to him over the past 12 hours.
By the time I stepped into the lobby, I'd begun to entertain the possibility not only that PRs might actually be underpaid, but that there might be a genetic component to his condition. What made him so desperate to win the love and attention of perfect strangers? The actor's clinical self- involvement could so easily have deepened my despair but, in fact, it did just the reverse: it inspired me to write a new novel, set in LA, about three generations of an acting dynasty. A family very different, thankfully, from my own.
HC: Have you ever read any of the Conan Doyle stories, and what is your opinion of them?
JWD: Yes, of course. I had read them long before I did the series. I think he is a most marvellous writer. I also very much like the series done by the BBC about the time when he was training to be a doctor, and I think they would be very good to be done again.
HC: Could you tell us a little about what it was to work with Jeremy Brett on the series?
JWD: Well now, a little bit you say? I could talk for hours and hours about Jeremy Brett. He was one of the most surprising people you could ever come across, because he had two sides. One, he was kind, loving, demonstrative and you couldn't ask to be with a better person. When his depression was upon him, and he suffered from depression of the worst kind, he was a different person entirely. I've never know anyone whose personality could change so much. he would become aggressive and not want to continue. I had so many conversations with Jeremy about not wanting to continue as Sherlock Holmes. He felt that Sherlock Holmes had turned him into a monster. Jeremy Brett was like that before he ever came to Sherlock Holmes, but it wasn't his fault and it certainly wasn't Sherlock Holmes fault.
HC: Did you work with both the actors who played Dr. Watson - David Burke and Edward Hardwicke?
JWD: I met David Burke when I was going to do The Return , the first of which was The Abbey Grange. He had just had a wonderful offer which was to go to Stratford Memorial Theatre and play, with his wife. He came to me, and he said, "This is terrible. You are going to take over, and I am leaving, and it looks so bad. I'm so sorry, but I can't miss this opportunity." One of the things I have done throughout my career, is that if an actor has had a chance that is going to enhance his career, I had never stopped him and I never would.
It was Edward Hardwicke I chose to be Dr Watson, and I actually believe he was better.
HC: Was Edward Hardwicke different in style and approach to the series from the previous actor, David Burke?
JWD: Yes. David had a more 'modern' approach and a more abrasive personality. Edward is to me the definitive Dr. Watson. He has everything that Conan Doyle speaks of. He is the most lovely actor to work with and he is a great personal friend.
HC: When you first started making the series; bearing in mind the huge number and variety of previous adaptations of Sherlock Holmes, both national and international, how did you approach making your own series, and did you find that any of the previous adaptations had influenced your work?
JWD: I'll tell you quite honestly that I didn't want to do it. I went and I said, "Listen. I've done Victorian detectives until they are coming out of my ears and I don't want to do them anymore. I'm fond of Jeremy, but I don't want to have to take all of his problems, tribulations, etc." Because he was becoming very ill even then. Anyway, I was convinced that I had to do it. I decided that I must, from my own point of view, as there had been so many previous attempts, make it as visual as I could. So I took it out of what I considered to be the box-like theatre way of doing it, and made it hugely visual. I got the best film-makers I could find to direct, and Peter Hammond is one, in my opinion.
JWD: Yes, of course. I had read them long before I did the series. I think he is a most marvellous writer. I also very much like the series done by the BBC about the time when he was training to be a doctor, and I think they would be very good to be done again.
HC: Could you tell us a little about what it was to work with Jeremy Brett on the series?
JWD: Well now, a little bit you say? I could talk for hours and hours about Jeremy Brett. He was one of the most surprising people you could ever come across, because he had two sides. One, he was kind, loving, demonstrative and you couldn't ask to be with a better person. When his depression was upon him, and he suffered from depression of the worst kind, he was a different person entirely. I've never know anyone whose personality could change so much. he would become aggressive and not want to continue. I had so many conversations with Jeremy about not wanting to continue as Sherlock Holmes. He felt that Sherlock Holmes had turned him into a monster. Jeremy Brett was like that before he ever came to Sherlock Holmes, but it wasn't his fault and it certainly wasn't Sherlock Holmes fault.
HC: Did you work with both the actors who played Dr. Watson - David Burke and Edward Hardwicke?
JWD: I met David Burke when I was going to do The Return , the first of which was The Abbey Grange. He had just had a wonderful offer which was to go to Stratford Memorial Theatre and play, with his wife. He came to me, and he said, "This is terrible. You are going to take over, and I am leaving, and it looks so bad. I'm so sorry, but I can't miss this opportunity." One of the things I have done throughout my career, is that if an actor has had a chance that is going to enhance his career, I had never stopped him and I never would.
It was Edward Hardwicke I chose to be Dr Watson, and I actually believe he was better.
HC: Was Edward Hardwicke different in style and approach to the series from the previous actor, David Burke?
JWD: Yes. David had a more 'modern' approach and a more abrasive personality. Edward is to me the definitive Dr. Watson. He has everything that Conan Doyle speaks of. He is the most lovely actor to work with and he is a great personal friend.
HC: When you first started making the series; bearing in mind the huge number and variety of previous adaptations of Sherlock Holmes, both national and international, how did you approach making your own series, and did you find that any of the previous adaptations had influenced your work?
JWD: I'll tell you quite honestly that I didn't want to do it. I went and I said, "Listen. I've done Victorian detectives until they are coming out of my ears and I don't want to do them anymore. I'm fond of Jeremy, but I don't want to have to take all of his problems, tribulations, etc." Because he was becoming very ill even then. Anyway, I was convinced that I had to do it. I decided that I must, from my own point of view, as there had been so many previous attempts, make it as visual as I could. So I took it out of what I considered to be the box-like theatre way of doing it, and made it hugely visual. I got the best film-makers I could find to direct, and Peter Hammond is one, in my opinion.
BM: One of the things that amazes us in France, is the beautiful landscapes, and cottages It is really typical England, and has a je ne sais quoi.
JWD: Well, we were very lucky. One of the worst things is trying to show London as it was in Victorian times, and Manchester cannot be London. Manchester was the home of our recording studios. So, we had to go to Liverpool and surroundings to be able to get the look of London. The big plus was that all around Manchester, into Cheshire and surrounds, there are some of the most wonderful mansions you could ever find, and some of the best scenery. We had such a choice.
HC: Previous Sherlock Holmes' tend to have been played as somewhat stilted, arrogant upper-class types. Jeremy Brett had an entirely different approach. He played a very explosive, enthusiastic, exuberant Sherlock Holmes. How much of this was him, and how much your adaptation?
JWD: Well, he was totally idiosyncratic. When he was asked if he would play Sherlock Holmes, he said straight away, "No !" He certainly would not. The irony about Jeremy Brett is that he was from a stiff, upper-class kind of family. He was Eton educated and went after that, much to his father's horror, to drama school. His father was ex-army, a Brigadier General, who had been gassed during the war. That's the family he came from. He was totally English upper class. You could hear it in his magnificent voice. I will tell you one thing, that Laurence Olivier told him when he joined the National Theatre. He said, that to be an actor you require two things. It is the voice of an orchestra, and the body of an athlete.
HC: What did Jeremy Brett think of the voice-overs of Sherlock Holmes for the international marketing of the series?
JWD: He said that the French had given him a good voice -he liked that, but he hated the German voice. He said it sounded too effeminate.
BM: The French voice was Jacques Thébault. He was also the voice of Patrick McGoohan in Danger Man and The Prisoner. He also is the voice of Bill Cosby in a few shows! He has a lovely deep voice.
HC: Most of the previous Watsons were played as idiots or buffoons to contrast sharply with the intellect of Sherlock Holmes. The Watsons in this series were completely different. They were played as sensitive, intelligent medical men. Can you tell us how this came about?
JWD: The thing is, if you read your Conan Doyle, he can't be a 'bumbler', or why else would Sherlock Holmes leave him in The Hound of the Baskervilles to get on with it. Sherlock is hardly in the Hound, just popping around the countryside. Just to mention Edward Hardwicke. His father was Sir Cedric Hardwicke, a famous English actor and star in Hollywood. As a little boy, this 'English set' were all there -C. Aubrey Smith, and Nigel Bruce whom he adored. Edward took a little bit of Nigel Bruce, and a little bit of his father, but essentially what comes through is himself.
HC: A major issue in Sherlock Holmes is his use of drugs. Throughout the canon he does abuse cocaine and other stimulants. How did you broach this issue, which is so sensitive in the modern world.
JWD: Well, we were very lucky. One of the worst things is trying to show London as it was in Victorian times, and Manchester cannot be London. Manchester was the home of our recording studios. So, we had to go to Liverpool and surroundings to be able to get the look of London. The big plus was that all around Manchester, into Cheshire and surrounds, there are some of the most wonderful mansions you could ever find, and some of the best scenery. We had such a choice.
HC: Previous Sherlock Holmes' tend to have been played as somewhat stilted, arrogant upper-class types. Jeremy Brett had an entirely different approach. He played a very explosive, enthusiastic, exuberant Sherlock Holmes. How much of this was him, and how much your adaptation?
JWD: Well, he was totally idiosyncratic. When he was asked if he would play Sherlock Holmes, he said straight away, "No !" He certainly would not. The irony about Jeremy Brett is that he was from a stiff, upper-class kind of family. He was Eton educated and went after that, much to his father's horror, to drama school. His father was ex-army, a Brigadier General, who had been gassed during the war. That's the family he came from. He was totally English upper class. You could hear it in his magnificent voice. I will tell you one thing, that Laurence Olivier told him when he joined the National Theatre. He said, that to be an actor you require two things. It is the voice of an orchestra, and the body of an athlete.
HC: What did Jeremy Brett think of the voice-overs of Sherlock Holmes for the international marketing of the series?
JWD: He said that the French had given him a good voice -he liked that, but he hated the German voice. He said it sounded too effeminate.
BM: The French voice was Jacques Thébault. He was also the voice of Patrick McGoohan in Danger Man and The Prisoner. He also is the voice of Bill Cosby in a few shows! He has a lovely deep voice.
HC: Most of the previous Watsons were played as idiots or buffoons to contrast sharply with the intellect of Sherlock Holmes. The Watsons in this series were completely different. They were played as sensitive, intelligent medical men. Can you tell us how this came about?
JWD: The thing is, if you read your Conan Doyle, he can't be a 'bumbler', or why else would Sherlock Holmes leave him in The Hound of the Baskervilles to get on with it. Sherlock is hardly in the Hound, just popping around the countryside. Just to mention Edward Hardwicke. His father was Sir Cedric Hardwicke, a famous English actor and star in Hollywood. As a little boy, this 'English set' were all there -C. Aubrey Smith, and Nigel Bruce whom he adored. Edward took a little bit of Nigel Bruce, and a little bit of his father, but essentially what comes through is himself.
HC: A major issue in Sherlock Holmes is his use of drugs. Throughout the canon he does abuse cocaine and other stimulants. How did you broach this issue, which is so sensitive in the modern world.
JWD: The first series had faithfully had him taking the seven per-cent solution. But, at an early point, we went to Cornwall for The Devil's Foot. I had been terribly worried, because we had the police coming to us about would we help the drug abuse issue. Here we have a leading man 'shooting up'. I approached Jeremy about this, saying, "I know you want to stick as closely as you can to the original, but how would you feel if we showed you giving it up?" As you know, he starts off very ill in The Devil's Foot. He went away and thought about it, and came back saying, "You are absolutely right. I will give it up." So we worked out how he would bury the apparatus in the sand, and we never went back to it again. There was a moment later in the series when Edward Hardwicke opens the drawer to see whether Holmes has taken the stuff out, but it was there undisturbed, to show that he has not used it.
HC: When the series started, the emphasis was very much on trying to keep it as close to the canon as possible, to the extent of seeing scenes taken from the original drawings by Sidney Paget in The Strand Magazine. A lot of the later ones, for example, The Master Blackmailer, and The Sussex Vampire actually strayed a long way from the canon. How do you feel about this?
JWD: We got to the point where we were truly running out of material to make a full hour. So, we would take bits and pieces and expand on them, like The Master Blackmailer. Charles Augustus Milverton is one of the most marvellous characters I think, but there is very little to show what he does in the story. We used writers that had adapted the previous stories most faithfully, and they would then invent certain bits. For example in The Dying Detective, the whole front of The Dying Detective was an invention which made the short story really work. We tried awfully hard and Jeremy fluctuated. Sometimes he would say , "This is the most wonderful script I've ever done", and then sometimes he would say, "Oh, but you have strayed from the original story." And to me afterwards would say, "It was rather good, wasn't it?" But never to them. And different people would write different things in various magazines. I would almost give up; I had got to the end of my tether.
HC: Mrs West, you mentioned that you played the major female role in The Master Blackmailer, and how you enjoyed putting your foot on the face of Charles Augustus Milverton having shot him. You also mentioned that you liked playing villainesses. This role is somewhat unusual in that she is a victim, but at he same time a killer. Could you tell us more about that?
NW: You have to understand that she has been completely and utterly driven to it. The lives of many people will be ruined if he goes ahead with his threat. I think the most interesting thing about the episode is that Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson witness the whole thing, and do nothing. That is extraordinary, especially when Holmes picks up her buckle and removes the evidence from the scene. She was a very straight forward woman who made a bad mistake. She fell in love, and did the worst thing -put something on paper. We must all remember not to do that! And then circumstances took over and one worked it through from there. It's a slow build of emotion. What am I going to do about this? How am I going to resolve it? It is going to affect other people's lives -this can't happen. It's a slow progression, like climbing stairs.
HC: When the series started, the emphasis was very much on trying to keep it as close to the canon as possible, to the extent of seeing scenes taken from the original drawings by Sidney Paget in The Strand Magazine. A lot of the later ones, for example, The Master Blackmailer, and The Sussex Vampire actually strayed a long way from the canon. How do you feel about this?
JWD: We got to the point where we were truly running out of material to make a full hour. So, we would take bits and pieces and expand on them, like The Master Blackmailer. Charles Augustus Milverton is one of the most marvellous characters I think, but there is very little to show what he does in the story. We used writers that had adapted the previous stories most faithfully, and they would then invent certain bits. For example in The Dying Detective, the whole front of The Dying Detective was an invention which made the short story really work. We tried awfully hard and Jeremy fluctuated. Sometimes he would say , "This is the most wonderful script I've ever done", and then sometimes he would say, "Oh, but you have strayed from the original story." And to me afterwards would say, "It was rather good, wasn't it?" But never to them. And different people would write different things in various magazines. I would almost give up; I had got to the end of my tether.
HC: Mrs West, you mentioned that you played the major female role in The Master Blackmailer, and how you enjoyed putting your foot on the face of Charles Augustus Milverton having shot him. You also mentioned that you liked playing villainesses. This role is somewhat unusual in that she is a victim, but at he same time a killer. Could you tell us more about that?
NW: You have to understand that she has been completely and utterly driven to it. The lives of many people will be ruined if he goes ahead with his threat. I think the most interesting thing about the episode is that Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson witness the whole thing, and do nothing. That is extraordinary, especially when Holmes picks up her buckle and removes the evidence from the scene. She was a very straight forward woman who made a bad mistake. She fell in love, and did the worst thing -put something on paper. We must all remember not to do that! And then circumstances took over and one worked it through from there. It's a slow build of emotion. What am I going to do about this? How am I going to resolve it? It is going to affect other people's lives -this can't happen. It's a slow progression, like climbing stairs.
HC: Jeremy Brett was often accused, especially in the tabloid media, of ham acting, which personally speaking I think extremely unfair. What do you think of this?
JWD: I've got a thing about tabloid journalists. They would not know ham acting if they saw it. The word ham comes from amateurs playing Hamlet. Jeremy was a brilliant actor, and I won't have otherwise. Towards the end, he did have difficulties with his respiratory system and getting the breath he wanted, and stature. Nobody knew better than him -the crumbling edifice if you like. But no, I won't have that. I think he was an idiosyncratic but quite definitive Holmes.
HC: During the series, there was hefty media coverage of the time when Jeremy had his breakdown. He suffered from maniac depression, which can make people fluctuate tremendously. Did this ever affect his acting, or the production?
JWD: It affected the series and the production because we would have weeks when he couldn't work. I can talk about this now that Jeremy has died, but he was 'sectioned' and he went to what, in the old days, we would have called an asylum. He had a dreadful time there, and I used to go and visit him there. It took a long time, but I eventually got Granada to foot the bills for him to go to a very special clinic. It's a rather remarkable story because he did so well there, and I was seeing him regularly. I went there to pick him up, and two tabloid newspaper man, from The Sun, had actually been clever enough to use his real name at the door, which is Jeremy Huggins. They went up to his bedroom where he was waiting for me, burst in with a camera, and said, "We have come to see if you have got AID's". He kicked them out.
Incidentally, I said his name was Huggins, do you know how he got the name Brett? When Jeremy told his father he was going to acting school and he was going to become an actor, his father simply said, "Well don't do it anywhere near where I am, because I don't want a shrieking lot of actors coming here." He said, "Don't use the family name." Jeremy said, "Well what name shall I use?" He said, "I don't care. Invent one if you like." Jeremy had only had one suit taylored for him at that point, so he looked inside his suit and it was by a taylor called Peter Brett. So he said, "Well, I'll use Brett". That's true!
HC: During this very low point, the media coverage was awful. Did this affect the ratings, or production of the series?
JWD: It never affected the ratings. We always did a very good ten to twelve million. But he was hounded. We were all hounded. They were miserable, horrible creatures. They didn't take on board that he not only had a mental illness, but because he had rheumatic fever at seventeen years old, he had a serious physical illness too. He was on drugs for both, which had side effects. Production wise, of course we lost days and days. There were times when he had to be lifted in a chair to go upstairs, because he was so weak.
HC: In the last few episodes, you could see that he was ill. How did this affect his acting?
JWD: I've got a thing about tabloid journalists. They would not know ham acting if they saw it. The word ham comes from amateurs playing Hamlet. Jeremy was a brilliant actor, and I won't have otherwise. Towards the end, he did have difficulties with his respiratory system and getting the breath he wanted, and stature. Nobody knew better than him -the crumbling edifice if you like. But no, I won't have that. I think he was an idiosyncratic but quite definitive Holmes.
HC: During the series, there was hefty media coverage of the time when Jeremy had his breakdown. He suffered from maniac depression, which can make people fluctuate tremendously. Did this ever affect his acting, or the production?
JWD: It affected the series and the production because we would have weeks when he couldn't work. I can talk about this now that Jeremy has died, but he was 'sectioned' and he went to what, in the old days, we would have called an asylum. He had a dreadful time there, and I used to go and visit him there. It took a long time, but I eventually got Granada to foot the bills for him to go to a very special clinic. It's a rather remarkable story because he did so well there, and I was seeing him regularly. I went there to pick him up, and two tabloid newspaper man, from The Sun, had actually been clever enough to use his real name at the door, which is Jeremy Huggins. They went up to his bedroom where he was waiting for me, burst in with a camera, and said, "We have come to see if you have got AID's". He kicked them out.
Incidentally, I said his name was Huggins, do you know how he got the name Brett? When Jeremy told his father he was going to acting school and he was going to become an actor, his father simply said, "Well don't do it anywhere near where I am, because I don't want a shrieking lot of actors coming here." He said, "Don't use the family name." Jeremy said, "Well what name shall I use?" He said, "I don't care. Invent one if you like." Jeremy had only had one suit taylored for him at that point, so he looked inside his suit and it was by a taylor called Peter Brett. So he said, "Well, I'll use Brett". That's true!
HC: During this very low point, the media coverage was awful. Did this affect the ratings, or production of the series?
JWD: It never affected the ratings. We always did a very good ten to twelve million. But he was hounded. We were all hounded. They were miserable, horrible creatures. They didn't take on board that he not only had a mental illness, but because he had rheumatic fever at seventeen years old, he had a serious physical illness too. He was on drugs for both, which had side effects. Production wise, of course we lost days and days. There were times when he had to be lifted in a chair to go upstairs, because he was so weak.
HC: In the last few episodes, you could see that he was ill. How did this affect his acting?
Jeremy, whose green eyes would be enough to melt any woman's heart, finds that he has little time to date. He's been so busy making films and being in plays that sometimes he's on the go for weeks at a time. 'I haven't really been asked to go on dates just for publicity,' he says. 'But if I were asked, you can be sure I'd have to know and like the girl or I wouldn't do it.'
Personal integrity and honesty in his dealings with others characterize Jeremy's passionate desire to succeed on his own merits. He refuses to be in any play or movie in which he doesn't believe.
In fact, before he played Freddy, he was offered several other roles in Hollywood films, but he just didn't think the time was right. Jeremy loves the challenge of playing varied roles. He'd much rather take a role he feels will be stimulating for less money than take one for more money which doesn't meet his artistic standards.
Even though he's a man with tremendous energy, Jeremy admits to being lazy. 'I guess the only way I get things done is to do a lot of them!' he laughs. 'When I'm going at break-neck speed, I seem to get much more accomplished.'
'I'm not a very physical person, really,' he says impishly. 'I used to think it would do me a great deal of good to lift weights, but I gave it up when my neck started getting bigger than my head.
'But food; I adore it! And I find American hamburgers absolutely delightful. I could simply eat my way through the day on them.'
Jeremy has a realistic attitude about success. 'I want to fulfill myself in my way,' he says. 'Fame is great, but I want it to flow naturally, if at all, from my day-to-day work. If I have what is required, it will out, in time. If not, well...' He shrugged eloquently. 'One must be a consummate realist at all times...'
Jeremy Brett is a fine actor and a stimulating man. His interests range from traveling to farming to directing his own movies. His ambition is boundless, and his sense of humor exceptional. Watch for him, he's going places!"
Personal integrity and honesty in his dealings with others characterize Jeremy's passionate desire to succeed on his own merits. He refuses to be in any play or movie in which he doesn't believe.
In fact, before he played Freddy, he was offered several other roles in Hollywood films, but he just didn't think the time was right. Jeremy loves the challenge of playing varied roles. He'd much rather take a role he feels will be stimulating for less money than take one for more money which doesn't meet his artistic standards.
Even though he's a man with tremendous energy, Jeremy admits to being lazy. 'I guess the only way I get things done is to do a lot of them!' he laughs. 'When I'm going at break-neck speed, I seem to get much more accomplished.'
'I'm not a very physical person, really,' he says impishly. 'I used to think it would do me a great deal of good to lift weights, but I gave it up when my neck started getting bigger than my head.
'But food; I adore it! And I find American hamburgers absolutely delightful. I could simply eat my way through the day on them.'
Jeremy has a realistic attitude about success. 'I want to fulfill myself in my way,' he says. 'Fame is great, but I want it to flow naturally, if at all, from my day-to-day work. If I have what is required, it will out, in time. If not, well...' He shrugged eloquently. 'One must be a consummate realist at all times...'
Jeremy Brett is a fine actor and a stimulating man. His interests range from traveling to farming to directing his own movies. His ambition is boundless, and his sense of humor exceptional. Watch for him, he's going places!"
And in '86, I had this whopping great collapse...but what put me back on my feet was getting, what we say in England, "back on the bicycle."
Yeah, and so I went off to the studios and made five more and I began to feel a bit better. I took about--I'm still getting over it--about three years, really. So that was really the reason for that.
I think I enjoy playing...I don't think I was really properly cast, because of my part. I play parts like King Arthur, and Henry the V, and heroics and romantics....Robert Browning, Lord Byron...and the classics...Hamlet, in my younger days.
Do you like playing those more so?
Yes. The provocation with Holmes is the fact that he's described by Doyle as a man without a heart--all brain...and that's very difficult to play, or even indicate.
I made a terrible fool of myself...my camera test, way back in '83. I looked like a gargoyle [laughs] 'cause I was so determined to look right. But I had a white line down my nose and velvet under my chin...and my producer said, "Is there going to be anything of Jeremy in this performance at all?"
And I calmed it down a little bit, but it's still quite a... it's not the easiest part to play. Also, it's better read, really, that's the truth of the matter.
Why?
Well, the stories leap from the printed page. I mean, when it says, "Holmes crawls through the bracken looking for a clue like a golden retriever," you can see it with your mind's eye. When you do it [laughs], it's hysterically funny.
And so I've had wonderful Watsons--I've had two who kind of go [groans], "Holmes is doing it again." And, I mean, I've even had people in the studio, when I had suddenly crawled across the floor, say, "Not another of those" [laughs]. And that's the lighter side.
The other thing is, of course, if you go into the canteen for lunch dressed like what I call the "damaged penguin," no one will really sit with you, because you look like death warmed-up [laughs]. When you've got the mask on, and the black hair and the black suit, you really are frightfully cheerful to have lunch opposite.
You have said that you're finding Holmes easier to play. How do you keep it interesting? How do you keep it challenging?
Well, I haven't reached him yet. He's one field ahead of me all the time. That's fascinating. That's fascinating.
I think the more I play him the more I realize he's impossible to play. I mean, the great models I had--of course the great Basil Rathbone; Robert Stephens, who did the Billy Wilder film, "The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes." Robert Stephens is my best friend in England. I met him last June when I went to see him giving a brilliant performance in the theater and he said, "You know what I think? The trouble with you is that you never realized something. Holmes is hollow." He said, "When I tried to do it, I nearly killed myself....I had a breakdown, tried to kill myself, terrible disasters, but you, of course, with your bubbling sparkling essence bit, you just fill it all up with champagne and Perrier water. Your well is so filled to the brim, you've hardly noticed that there's nothing inside [of Holmes]."
Yeah, and so I went off to the studios and made five more and I began to feel a bit better. I took about--I'm still getting over it--about three years, really. So that was really the reason for that.
I think I enjoy playing...I don't think I was really properly cast, because of my part. I play parts like King Arthur, and Henry the V, and heroics and romantics....Robert Browning, Lord Byron...and the classics...Hamlet, in my younger days.
Do you like playing those more so?
Yes. The provocation with Holmes is the fact that he's described by Doyle as a man without a heart--all brain...and that's very difficult to play, or even indicate.
I made a terrible fool of myself...my camera test, way back in '83. I looked like a gargoyle [laughs] 'cause I was so determined to look right. But I had a white line down my nose and velvet under my chin...and my producer said, "Is there going to be anything of Jeremy in this performance at all?"
And I calmed it down a little bit, but it's still quite a... it's not the easiest part to play. Also, it's better read, really, that's the truth of the matter.
Why?
Well, the stories leap from the printed page. I mean, when it says, "Holmes crawls through the bracken looking for a clue like a golden retriever," you can see it with your mind's eye. When you do it [laughs], it's hysterically funny.
And so I've had wonderful Watsons--I've had two who kind of go [groans], "Holmes is doing it again." And, I mean, I've even had people in the studio, when I had suddenly crawled across the floor, say, "Not another of those" [laughs]. And that's the lighter side.
The other thing is, of course, if you go into the canteen for lunch dressed like what I call the "damaged penguin," no one will really sit with you, because you look like death warmed-up [laughs]. When you've got the mask on, and the black hair and the black suit, you really are frightfully cheerful to have lunch opposite.
You have said that you're finding Holmes easier to play. How do you keep it interesting? How do you keep it challenging?
Well, I haven't reached him yet. He's one field ahead of me all the time. That's fascinating. That's fascinating.
I think the more I play him the more I realize he's impossible to play. I mean, the great models I had--of course the great Basil Rathbone; Robert Stephens, who did the Billy Wilder film, "The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes." Robert Stephens is my best friend in England. I met him last June when I went to see him giving a brilliant performance in the theater and he said, "You know what I think? The trouble with you is that you never realized something. Holmes is hollow." He said, "When I tried to do it, I nearly killed myself....I had a breakdown, tried to kill myself, terrible disasters, but you, of course, with your bubbling sparkling essence bit, you just fill it all up with champagne and Perrier water. Your well is so filled to the brim, you've hardly noticed that there's nothing inside [of Holmes]."
