“When I was about 25 years old, I worked with two very good actors.[…] Wanda Ventham and Timothy Carlton both embodied qualities which one is fogyishly tempted to look at with nostalgia. I didn’t know at the time that they were married or that they had a son of about 10 who was quietly gestating all the same attributes.
And now, 30 years later, the boy has been let loose. He has taken the form of Benedict Cumberbatch.
[…]It’s rare to the point of outlandish to find so many variables in one actor, including features which ought to be incompatible: vulnerability, a sense of danger, a clear intellect, honesty, courage — and a rather alarming energy. I take no pleasure in feeling humbled, but there’s no getting around it.
Unfortunately, the film can pretty much be summed up as when a terrible script happens to excellent actors and really doesn’t do credit to well, anyone or anything, but still, it’s the thought that counts, right?
(And actually the real truth is I don’t even care how bad the film is because Peter’s hair is fantastic and as far as I’m concerned that makes up for any number of dire cinematic sins.)
‘I’m not confident in social situations; just going up to someone in a bar and saying ‘Hi’ going to be even more difficult because they won’t know the real me. They will just know me as a fictional person I play on the screen.’