Interview copyright © Damian Michael Barcroft 2023

‘Strange what one recalls…’ Despite letters home, lessons in Latin and a large collection of toy soldiers in “his early life”, it’s the vivid memory of hearing Scottish pop group, Middle of the Road’s rendition of Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep blaring out of a radio at Shepperton Studios in the summer of 1971, that Russell Lewis – the writer of all thirty-six episodes of Endeavour – chose to reminisce upon in one of our past interviews prior to the broadcast of the last series and for quite obvious reasons I suppose – ‘Where’s your mama gone?’.

In Oxford of the same year – albeit a few months earlier in 1971 – we find Detective Sergeant Endeavour Morse sat alone in a pub who, by even his standards, is particularly melancholy and drowning his sorrows. Weary and hungover, the following morning he discovers there has been a terrorist bombing at his old college of Lonsdale and also – initially presumed to be racially-motivated – the Provisional IRA have threatened to shoot the black Irish football star of Oxford Wanderers, Jack Swift, if he plays against Cowley Town in the next game. Chief Superintendent Reginald Bright orders Endeavour to watch over him and keep an eye on the ball…

In my end is my beginning…
~ An exclusive Endeavour interview with writer Russell Lewis ~

DAMIAN: I believe it was Damien Timmer [executive producer and joint managing director of Mammoth Screen, the production company that made Endeavour for ITV] who wanted to set one of the stories within the world of football?

RUSS: Yes, he wanted to do a football story, and with the window inexorably closing, this was the opportunity.

DAMIAN: I think I’ve got the right Lewis when I say that you personally prefer cricket to football?

RUSS: I admire the skill involved in both, but yes it’s cricket for me. However, the passing of the great John Motson stirred up the silt and brought back a rush of memory. Across my earliest years – though I went to a very odd school where we weren’t allowed to play sport – football loomed large. Football experienced through the television rather than the terraces.

So – Saturday afternoon, in deep midwinter, was always commentators in sheepskin car-coats either phoning in the result and match report, else doing a bit to camera with the floodlights on, and behind them the stadium empty but for the sound of some teeny-bopper hit of the day coming over the public address system. The smell of hot Bovril still hanging on the evening damp air. I desperately wanted to invoke some of that, but… regrettably, it lay beyond our reach. But those commentators always looked as if they could have stepped straight out of The Offence – you know. The late great Gerald Sinstadt who left us only lately. Elton Welsby. Hugh Johns. And, I suppose, supreme at the time, the legendary Brian Moore who presented The Big Match on Sunday.

My main man Charlie Caine, we’ve been tight this past half-century and more, and who appeared in Cherubim & Seraphim, wrote to Brian Moore on his retirement, thanking him for his work and saying how much he’d miss him. And damn if Brian Moore didn’t send him the loveliest handwritten letter back – which Charlie’s still got. Yeh – he was special.

But Saturday early evening was all about The Results, and absolute silence had to reign while the old man marked off his Pools coupon. Holy ritual.

So, farewell Motty, and all those football broadcasting giants of yore, and thanks for all the memories. STRIKER was as much a salute to that as to the game itself.

DAMIAN: I’m afraid I don’t know much about football – or any sport for that matter – but to use a cricketing term, I think! – I was going to say that Endeavour has had a good innings but that would be such a lazy way for me to broach the subject of this being the final series and I’m sure I can do better – so it’ll keep, for now, at least. Anyway, looking back at STRIKER – the first episode of the last series – and the two of us both having our own memories of the seventies including inflation, looming recession, cost of living, energy crisis and potential rationing or power cuts, industrial action and strikes, and even the possible threat of nuclear war, I was struck by how history repeats itself. In fact, there’s a quote from the American journalist and author, Sydney J. Harris, that I’d love to have made into a sign and nailed to the door of Number 10 Downing Street: ‘History repeats itself, but in such cunning disguise that we never detect the resemblance until the damage is done.’ And, goodness me, what damage they’ve done. I wonder if there’s anything you’d like to leave on the doorstep for the Prime Minister?

RUSS: A ‘Leaving’ card.

DAMIAN: As you wrote series 7, 8 and 9, to what extent did you draw upon your own experience of the early 70s and in dramatically recreating this period, what historical aspects resonated the most as you revisited those memories?

RUSS: Hmm. I hope you’ll forgive me, but at such a distance of time – and those memories being of one’s earliest years – the danger is that one just remembers bits of ‘the early 70s’. We don’t get to some of the strongest memories – the power cuts, etc., which would have been a fantastic backdrop for a story. Oxford in blackout – a call back to Thursday, Win and the Blitz. Put that light out!!! Industrial disputes. We touched on it slightly with the Post Office dispute – but that was certainly ongoing across those early years. To such a degree that it informed Hilda’s vendetta against unionised labour at the other end of the decade.

DAMIAN: Endeavour Morse was arguably at his most morose last series and yet his misery seems to have less to do with the actual turmoil of the 70s and more to do with himself. To what extent would you say that most of his problems originate not from external factors but rather internal factors?

RUSS: Well – he was carrying a lot of grief after the events of 1970. Affairs of the heart ending unhappily… probably carries more weight for a soul than a postal dispute.

DAMIAN: In the past we’ve referred to the first film, OVERTURE, and the successive couple of series at least, as Eden before the fall and an age of innocence. Given that until fairly recently, you didn’t know how long the series would last for, how have you managed to ration or portion the heartache, torment and the general highs and lows of Endeavour’s character arc over nine series?

RUSS: Well – we were already putting the bricks in the wall right from the off. Rosalind [Calloway in OVERTURE]. The death of his father at the end of series one [HOME]. We’ve always been turning the rack – a degree at a time.  

DAMIAN: You see, I knew I could do better – did you notice how expertly and subtly I managed to raise the issue of this being the final series?

RUSS: Say it ain’t so.

DAMIAN: Well, I won’t dwell on it today but rather wanted to reassure the reader that I’ll get to the questions I imagine many fans of the show would like answering in our very last interview. Anyway, is Endeavour’s introspective gloominess the main reason why Joan is open to the possibility of a relationship with someone else?

RUSS: Difficult to talk about in specific terms. But I think that – for many, perhaps for all at one time or another – there’s something true about ‘never the time, the place, and the loved one all together’. For whatever reason, if an affection goes undeclared long enough, that can be interpreted as a lack of interest.

DAMIAN: STRIKER features a beautifully played scene where Strange asks Joan to be his date at the Ladies Dinner Dance at the North Oxford Masonic Lodge and after she agrees, his face is positively beaming. I know it was a long time ago because I remember reading scenes between them in early drafts of various scripts that were cut but when did you first have the idea of Strange becoming attracted to Joan?

RUSS: It was less of a step than one might suspect. And one needs to keep these things in perspective. He needed a dinner date. And I think – because they were acquainted quite well – and have a professional association through their respective rôles at work – that when Strange asked her to help him out, it was born of a practical need rather than a years-long romantic longing. So – we probably shouldn’t read too much into it.

DAMIAN: There’s another lovely scene that I greatly enjoyed in which Endeavour drives to the halfway house for women and their children. As he sees Joan, Endeavour takes a deep breath before getting out of the Jag and she says, ‘Jim came by’, and, not wishing to appear too familiar, corrects herself, ‘Strange’. Endeavour then takes a sip from his hip flask that is seen throughout the film and offers her some but Joan declines and instead puts him in his place. Shortly afterwards, upon realising and appreciating the work that she does in providing sanctuary for vulnerable families, he observes that she’s trying to save the world and it occurred to me that this might just be his highest possible compliment to her because isn’t this exactly what Endeavour has strived to do since the death of his mother?

RUSS: I think – regarding your first point – that she understands after all this time that Endeavour is so unbending that he might not think of Strange as ‘Jim’ – which is why she adds the surname. Joan is not troubled by the same kind of thinking as Endeavour. And – for us – it just underlines the difference between them. Joan is clear eyed, open, honest about her feelings. There is no romantic involvement, so she wouldn’t think twice about mentioning Strange to Endeavour.  

Your second point, without being specific, is observed behaviour. Again – I think it’s something that would be familiar to many professionals who have dealt with bereaved children.  

DAMIAN: After she smiles and adds that she’s saving the world ‘one woman at a time’, there’s a silence between them as Joan and Endeavour look into each other’s eyes. Was the look supposed to portray regret for their past mistakes or longing for a possible future together regardless of how seemingly impossible that might be?

RUSS: There may have been some changes between the shooting script and what we ended up with. I have a vague recollection of a certain amount of back and forth on it.  But this was my original intention for the scene: Endeavour not in a good place – and this is the first time they’ve met in a long time.

To a degree it’s an example of the impact of real life on story. Mx.Vickers was unavailable for the previous and some of that had to be explained by Joan’s absence – but it creates questions itself. Why did she go to Stevenage? Was it a last roll of the dice? ‘This is what life looks like without me.’ I don’t think she’d reason it through in such terms, she’s too straight-forward for that – but perhaps it played some small part in her thinking. Another year of marching in step in Oxford, or trying something new in Stevenage.

INT. BELMONT LODGE. KITCHEN – DAY 4

ENDEAVOUR alone for a moment. Through the window, JOAN up the garden for the moment with some of the kids. He could be looking out of the window of his own house at his wife and kids. It’s a thought that might have stung once, now it’s just a dull ache. Taking advantage of being unobserved, he hauls a quarter-bottle of rotgut from his raincoat, finds himself a glass and pours out a couple of fingers. And becomes aware of JOAN watching him from the doorway. Rather than shrink from it – he tries to be inclusive.

ENDEAVOUR: Drink?       

JOAN: It’s a bit early for me. And to be honest I’d sooner you didn’t. If you’re going to talk to the kids. It’s just that most of them… have experience of men who reek of booze.

ENDEAVOUR unscrews the lid of his bottle and pours the contents of the glass back inside.

ENDEAVOUR: Well. Waste not, want not.

JOAN: Thanks.

ENDEAVOUR: You never used to be so censorious.

JOAN: You never used to put it away in the middle of the afternoon.

ENDEAVOUR: ‘Put it away?’ What’s next? “I’m going back to mother”? Accusations and recriminations. Like some couple in a bad radio play. We are all petit bourgeois now.

A long moment – in which he regrets his sniping. JOAN wounded and wearied by his sarcasm, but she reaches out all the same.

JOAN: I feel like I missed something.

What could he tell her?

ENDEAVOUR: No.

JOAN: Are you sure?

For a moment, through a chink in the armour, a glimpse of the man who once could stop her heart with a look. But bruised now, and broken past mending by love and grief and fate. 

ENDEAVOUR: Well – if you did, it was nothing very much.

JOAN: The ‘mess’ you mentioned when you wrote. Did you manage to put it right.

ENDEAVOUR: Oh, yes. 

He turns away from her to stare down the garden – silvered and shining after rain – so bright it dazzles his eyes and brings them to watering…

ENDEAVOUR: It all… ended as it should. 

JOAN: Morse…

Fearful of where pity might lead, he kills her concern dead. Overly bright and business like.

ENDEAVOUR: So, what is this place? Some sort of halfway house? I don’t know it off the council list.

JOAN: It’s not council. Just somewhere they can get away to. If they need it. Somewhere they can be safe.

ENDEAVOUR: Saving the world?

JOAN: One woman at a time.

ENDEAVOUR: What’s she like – Mrs. O’Rourke?

JOAN: Didn’t Jim say?

ENDEAVOUR: Detective Sergeant Strange has many qualities, but I wouldn’t rank sensitivity paramount amongst them.

JOAN: Oh, I don’t know. In my experience, he can be quite thoughtful when the occasion demands it. 

ENDEAVOUR: In your experience. You want to try living with him.

JOAN: I heard he ended up in hospital. Dad said you saved him.

ENDEAVOUR: No. Not really. I shouldn’t believe all you hear.

JOAN: And poor Mister Bright.

The memory of his failure is a boot to the gut.

ENDEAVOUR: It was a bad year. How was…

JOAN: Stevenage. I thought it might be a new start. But it seems children can be just as miserable and neglected there as they can in Oxford. And with Sam away, I didn’t like to leave Mum. So I came back. 

DAMIAN: You’ve explicitly referenced or alluded to various times of the year, events or holidays such as Bonfire Night (SWAY, S2:E3), Easter (RIDE, S3:E1) and Christmas/New Year (ORACLE, S7: E1 and ZENANA, S7:E3) for example. In the case of the last two, the new year or rather new decade was obviously an important theme but in STRIKER (S8:E1), why was Valentine’s Day referenced but never developed into the main story or integrated with any of the main character plots – was something cut or lost along the way or was it simply that there was so much going on politically and socially around February of that year?

RUSS: I think it was just a colour. Valentine’s Day then was not the awful tyranny it’s become now.

DAMIAN: But like births, funerals and weddings I suppose, Valentine’s Day does offer a vivid backdrop to a story?

RUSS: I always think of the ‘MARRY ME’ card received by Bathsheba Everdene.

DAMIAN: You wrote an episode of Lewis, FALLING DARKNESS (S4:E4), that was set at Hallowe’en but we’ve never seen any trick or treating in Endeavour, is this because it wasn’t such a big thing in the UK back in the sixties and early seventies?

RUSS: Absolutely. Really – next to nobody bothered. Certainly not in my part of the woods.

DAMIAN: I think it was the late seventies or very early eighties when I first remember Hallowe’en creeping its way into my part of the woods. The local newsagent sold some masks, you could sometimes get a pumpkin or at least a turnip from one or two of the markets and, perhaps rather bizarrely, the Catholic Club – next to our Catholic Church which was seen as somewhere reasonably respectable for single, divorced women like my mum and nan to have a Gold Label or two – usually held an event for the kids to dress up. Given my name, appropriately enough, I went as the Devil one year which the Sisters found quite charming if I remember rightly. Anyway, given your fascination with all things macabre, you must have celebrated Hallowe’en in some way yourself as a kid?

RUSS: Again – no. I got a book once – at a school Prizegiving – ‘For Good Behaviour’ or whatever it would have been, ‘Improvement in Tap’. And there was a poem in it about a ‘witch with a wart on her nose’. This was illustrated with a line drawing of the same. I found it  – the poem and the illustration – extremely troubling.  

DAMIAN: Regarding possible influences and inspirations, we’ve often spoken about Edgar Allan Poe in terms of his contribution to the Gothic and horror genre but I don’t think we’ve actually discussed him with respect to his pioneering work in detective fiction which he is often credited with inventing when he wrote The Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841) and, looking back, we can see that this and some of his other work established conventions and tropes such as the eccentric but brilliant sleuth – and his more by-the-book and unimaginative sidekick – solving the seemingly impossible crime and the locked room mystery to name but a few. Since such a significant part of your CV as a writer is working in this genre, I wondered how you rated Poe alongside Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie?

RUSS: It’s funny you should mention Poe. I was thinking about a copy of Tales of Terror and Fantasy – a hardback, illustrated by Rackham with Pit and the Pendulum on the cover that somehow came into my possession at an impressionable age. I’ve been doing a lot of tidying the past couple of months, and I couldn’t put my hand on that book. Hope it’s not lost. Massive influence – in so many ways. The Gold Bug I think probably had a bit of influence on some of Endeavour’s code-breaking/problem solving. Impossible for me to separate from the Corman movies – which, as you know, cast a great shadow.  

But I remember the moment when Dupin reasons back his friend’s train of thought, so that he knows exactly what he’s thinking. And that’s a fantastic bit of work. Rue Morgue… Yeh. And to think some felt I’d gone too far with a Tiger… 

DAMIAN: Leave the tiger, take the gorilla. We’ve discussed the Roger Corman / Vincent Price Poe movies in great detail before and I certainly share your enthusiasm for them but what are your thoughts on the Universal Murders in Rue Morgue (1932) and the other two Karloff and Lugosi Poe films?

RUSS: I remember finding The Black Cat very heavy going. Perhaps I should give it another go. The Raven is delightfully barking. Morgue is a typically lavish Carl Laemmle production. I’m just a sucker for the old production methods.    

DAMIAN: Me too. Anyway, you’ve been doing this for so long now that I suppose it’s almost instinct or second nature to you, but do you ever catch yourself consciously emulating the tricks used by some of the aforementioned writers, or perhaps even Colin Dexter?

RUSS: No. Not really. Colin and his predecessors and peers have the advantage of it all taking place on the page in words. As I’ve said about The Way Through the Woods – Colin could write ‘Somebody found something which would later prove important’ – or words to that effect on the page, but we would have had to film who that somebody was and at least glimpse or show obscurely what had been found. So – those of us who work in a visual medium have to think in pictures. Also – I could never remember everyone’s tricks.  

DAMIAN: We’ve discussed “Plot Vertigo” before which was a phrase coined by Damien Timmer to describe when a storyline is in danger of becoming a little too confusing for the audience, but I wondered if there was any sort of rule you have regarding what constitutes too many suspects or too few?

RUSS: As many as the budget will allow. That’s a tricky one. It depends on the puzzle. Two feels quite tight. A dozen, probably too many.  

DAMIAN: And what are the key ingredients to a great MacGuffin or red herring?

RUSS: I’m not sure there are key ingredients. And a MacGuffin and a red herring are very different things. A proper red herring is probably something that seems meaningful in one light – but typically turns out not to have a bearing on the central mystery. I quite like red herrings that when unravelled give you something that doesn’t appear to illuminate the puzzle – but considered in another way, explains something else. A good red herring should deliver something – even if it’s only obfuscation. Sorry – that’s very dry. The audience or reader (which, let’s face it, are one and the same thing!) does so much of the work for you. They’re so smart. Underestimate them at your peril.  But given that what we’re about is a certain amount of sleight of hand, a good red herring encourages the audience to make 2+2 make 5.

We were probably much more Golden Age when we began – but the guys weren’t crazy about Christiesque suspects in the drawing room denouements, and didn’t really enjoy declaiming the solution, which is fair enough – so the challenge became increasingly to find other ways of delivering the answer to the puzzle, and one had to dial back on the clueage a bit.

It’s amusing – given that the Knives Out franchise has swung back very much in that Golden Age direction. But there – I think – the tongue is very much in cheek. Nevertheless, they are in a direct line of descent from the Ustinov Poirots. And with Sir Kenneth bringing the little Belgian alive again… the traditional whodunit is in safe hands for another generation or two.

DAMIAN: Another important device which again, could be attributed to Poe, is the unreliable narrator which encourages the reader or viewer to question the motives or psychological state of certain characters and how much of their version of events can be trusted. Obviously misdirection plays an important part of an engaging detective story but to what extent do you think there is a danger of cheating the audience with such tropes? 

RUSS: Oh, I don’t know. I just try to apply the same yardstick I do when I watch anything. Did I have a good time? If the answer is yes – then, it’s job done.

DAMIAN: Didn’t you once tell me that you wanted to do a locked room mystery for Endeavour?

RUSS: There was a wheeze I fancied doing in this last series, and had it been four, rather than three films I would definitely have gone there – but I suspect there would have been massive push back against it, as it was so outré. I was keen to have a go at a two-hander with just the boys. Something that drew on the great stage thrillers of the time.  Sleuth was in the cinemas, so… I visited the house where the exteriors were filmed.  Wonderful place. Delightful series of interlinked gardens. They also shot some Doctor Who there. But pottering round where Olivier and Michael Caine had trod half a century before was a pure delight, and just made me regret not pushing for our own little two-hander all the more.

An Endeavour without any onscreen suspects at all! Oxford’s Finest exploring a murderous Count Yorga style fun-house could have given full rein to a ‘locked room mystery’ in the Golden Age Style. But there we are. It might have been too much.

We’d also talked over the years of a murder taking place during an Am-Dram production of a creaky murder-mystery.  A kind of Linda Snell’s Christmas Panto meets Knives Out. But perhaps it’s just as well we stopped short given See How They Run.

Those and our version of Promised Land… Defeated by the fallout from 2016 in the main. Ah – the ones that got away.  

DAMIAN: My fault as usual but I fear we may have veered off on one of our infamous tangents so we’d better return to STRIKER. During the opening and throughout the credits, we hear the song, Won’t Get Fooled Again, by The Who. Was this something you wanted to use and, if so, which particular lyrics did you think accentuated the motifs of either the episode or series eight generally?

RUSS: It’s long been a favourite. I suppose it chimed a bit with the industrial unrest.  ‘Meet the new boss…’  

DAMIAN: I know how important the use of music is to both you and Matthew Slater [composer and conductor since series three] and having collaborated on original songs together, how do the two of you decide on what existing music to play as opposed to creating yourselves?

RUSS: Unless there’s something I’m specifically keen on, it’s best left to those that know their business.

DAMIAN: STRIKER features the appearance of Eamonn Andrews – played exceptionally well by Lewis Mcleod – in a scene where Jack Swift is surprised with the big red book. Was the genesis of this idea inspired by the This Is Your Life episode devoted to John Thaw at all?

RUSS: No. It drew very heavily on the George Best episode. Lewis was fantastic. He has Eamonned before, of course, in the Hattie biopic. So – he was obviously the go-to guy.   

DAMIAN: Both Thursday and Bright observe that Eamonn Andrews isn’t as tall as he looks on the telly, was this a joke based on something I’m not aware of or simply an observation of the sort of banal comments people often might make when they meet a celebrity?

RUSS: A bit. There’s a moment in one of the introductions to a Collection of Alan Bennett plays. Bennett is on location – I think at the seaside, so it’s possibly for One Fine Day or All Day on the Sands – and he gets talking to a stranger on a bench on the seafront. It turns out the stranger was once the batman (in the military sense!) to Montgomery of Alamein.

Expecting some incredible insight from one who knew the great man so intimately, Bennett asks, ‘What was he like?’ ‘Very smart,’ comes the reply.

So – it was inspired by that exchange. And I think then – particularly – ‘people off the telly’ did feel more removed, as if they existed or came from some other dimension. It may also have been a bit of my own surprise, having imagined Eamonn to have been a bit of a unit, sort of prize-fighter build, only to discover on closer inspection that he wasn’t.

DAMIAN: You met Eamonn Andrews?

RUSS: I have a vague recollection of doing so – but I can’t recall if it was when I was very small, or in my salad days. I spent time at Thames – which, as Magpie viewers will recall from sending in their milk bottle tops for the ‘Appeal’, was at Teddington Lock. And Eamonn was just the sort of cove one would see pottering about. I think that’s what struck with me. He was quite striking – facially. And I’ve a distant memory of being struck by the fact that he was wearing ‘powder’. It must have been when I was small. 

I do remember seeing Eric and Ern there. I’d’ve been about sixteen, I think. And Benny Hill. One of the joys of the old regional franchise studio system was you’d see all your TV favourites in the corridors or in the canteen. I loved the centralisation of that. All that talent under one roof. Just getting on with the work. Thames. ATV Birmingham and Elstree. Yorkshire. Anglia. And TVC, of course. CEEFAX or ORACLE bubbling away in the corner of Reception. It does rather make the heart ache. A visit to any of those places – for an interview, or if you were in studio… one took it for granted, I suppose, but nevertheless, one always set off with an extra spring in one’s step on those bright mornings. We were very lucky to have lived and worked through such a time.

DAMIAN: Possibly a rather banal comment of my own now but Anton Lesser’s hair seemed to be uncharacteristically long this series, was this because he was flitting between Oxford and a galaxy far, far away?

RUSS: I think Bright’s self-care has probably taken a knock. But yes – it probably owes more than a little to his extracurricular duties.

DAMIAN: In the final scene of STRIKER, Endeavour and Thursday discuss the case and contemplate the nature and motives of crime and those who commit them: ‘Maybe we’re as much what we hate as what we love’, Thursday says and then continues, ‘In the end, we all pick a team. Or a team picks you.’ Endeavour adds, ‘Not if you’re no good at sports. I was always the last to be chosen. The one neither side wanted in the team’ to which his friend and mentor replies, ‘I chose you’. Given the desperate condition of their relationship in the series and last episode preceding STRIKER, was this a deliberate attempt to end the film on a more optimistic tone regarding their future?

RUSS: I have often been encouraged to keep that central relationship in better repair.  The audience – and a good number of the Top Table – don’t like them to be at constant loggerheads.

DAMIAN: What can we look forward to in PRELUDE, the first film in the very final series of Endeavour set in 1972?

RUSS: It’s another request from the Upstairs. The world in which it’s set. Matt Slater got to have some fun with it. There’s a bit of a time jump from where we left Endeavour at the end of the last run – again, dictated by production schedule. Delightful guest cast who all entered into the spirit of a Zoom Readthrough with gusto.

I think – left to my own devices – I would have run one story across the last three films. But the imperative was still to deliver distinct stand-alone cases. However, hares are certainly set running in this opener. So…

Can’t say more. Need to know, old man. Need to know.

DAMIAN: Of course, but 1972 was a good year for cinema with The Godfather, The Getaway, The Candidate, Deliverance, The Poseidon Adventure and Frenzy to name but a few. Any of these appear on your mood board at any point for this series?

RUSS: The Godfather a little – but only in its ambition. Turning Castle Gate upside down in the style of Irwin Allen lay beyond our budget. We’ve sort of nodded to Bob Rusk elsewhere. There’s one that dropped in the US late in 1971, but which was released in ‘72 in the UK that had some cultural significance – so that felt fair game, and gets a look in.  

DAMIAN: I thought we might do our next interview on a Wednesday. I’ll bring the sandwiches this time – do you fancy anything in particular?

RUSS: Just make it something special.

~

Interview copyright © Damian Michael Barcroft 2023