BBC Radio Times
21-27 October  2000
UK TV Guide
Interview by Andrew Duncan

He has lived in America for 13 years, appropriately as a “resident alien”, still retaining British citizenship. “I'm assimilated, but a large part of me feels as l did when I first arrived - that this is temporary. I'm a British actor who has been fortunate enough to establish a work base in North America accidentally and unintentionally. Hollywood was never even a daydream I permitted myself because it was so unrealistic. I stumbled into what has now become a large part of my professional life and I’m constantly surprised.”
 

Every night last spring, when he played a Jewish-American businessman in Arthur Miller's The Ride Down Mount Morgan on Broadway, he expected an audience member to stand up and shout, “Fake! Poseur!” They didn’t, of course, and it was he who startled them one Saturday by berating the producers from the stage because he thought they were lacklustre in their promotion.  I was brave and utterly naive, totally unprepared for the attention it received and the fury of my producers who lodged a formal complaint with my union. Arthur Miller supported me 100 per cent and I thought, ‘Who better to go to the barricades with?’ I partly regret what I did because it was on impulse and, God knows, I should have learnt to sleep on something before l act. But if at times artists are not out of control they're probably not being artists and responding intuitively. Its easy for us to sound like whingers but there's a residue of what we do which, if stirred up, can lead to behaviour that might seem infantile, extreme or irrational. In a sense I was possessed by my character in the play, responding as he might have.”
 

He misses England and although he will never return permanently he has a home in Yorkshire. “I enjoy my exposure to American society and yet there are subtleties which remind me it's not my home. There's fascinating contradiction here - it's the most powerful nation in the world, and yet there's a provincialism that reminds me I’m European with a different perspective. I plan to return within a year to do theatre but the deal isn't finalised. I should add I’m available at all times, although I’m not sure they're waiting for me. In some respects I feel I have ceased to exist in England.”
 

The youngest of three children, he was brought up in Mirfield, near Huddersfield, by his soldier father Alfred and mother Gladys, a weaver, in what has been described as “poverty and violence”, reportedly spending much of his childhood being afraid. He has certainly cast off humble beginnings and is patrician and suave with a plummy actor-ish voice. “Those remarks about violence have been inappropriately exaggerated,” he says now. “It was a pretty average upbringing. I was lucky to live in a community that was close and interdependent. We had mills in the valleys, but also sheep on the hills. I was blessed to be a teenager interested in performing who lived in that part of England at that time because it was not thought to be eccentric.”
 

Leaving school at 15 became a journalist on the Dewsbury and District Reporter, but was fired because he spent so much time with the amateur dramatic society he invented reports of events he was supposed to cover. “A vivid imagination seems the perfect qualification for a tabloid position. My editor was quite tight, though. He gave me an ultimatum that I had to stop acting so — my impulsive nature again —I walked out that afternoon thinking, ‘I’ll show him. I’ll become an actor.’ I've been in this job for 40 years and am still surprised people pay me. I constantly think it's odd for a grown-up to put on fancy dress. In certain areas of society I'd be locked up for it, but I've always felt content pretending to be someone else rather than who or what I was. I didn’t have much self-confidence for years and was sure I couldn't act. I knew l had some skills, but didn’t believe in myself as an entertainer although that's what all actors are, however serious. Several years ago I won a best entertainment Olivier award for my one-man show, A Christmas Carol, and it felt grand to be finally categorised as ‘an entertainer’. At last I believe l do my job well.”
 

This Christmas he is on television playing Scrooge in a film he produced of A Christmas Carol. I wonder if he identifies with the part. “Most definitely. I didn’t realise it at the time nor should you analyse why something appeals to you, just thank God it does. The story of an individual set in his life - locked into a kind of ice age of unbending attitudes, and changing at the last moment, being given a second chance - has great potency for me, probably because I was not properly in this world myself. I had one foot in the outside world and the other somewhere else that was entirely private and isolated. Scrooge acquires insight and acts on it, unafraid to take a huge risk and say, 'I need you. I love you. I’m making myself vulnerable."
 

Unexpected triumphs appeal to him. His eyes mist as he discusses Ann Packer winning the Olympics [800m gold medallist in Tokyo in 1964 from being the slowest qualifier]. “I cannot think of it without becoming emotional he says, “a person digging inside themselves and courage to achieve what they've never done. That's what interests me most now, to do something different."
 

Politics perhaps? He is active both in England, backing Tony Blair, and America, where he supports Al Gore. "It was put to me a few years ago that if I became an American citizen Id have a lot of opportunities, but I never thought of becoming a politician. I’m close to people involved with Al Gore’s campaign and have been honoured by introducing him at an event. All actors are fascinated by power. Without the delight of being in control we couldn't do our job. I remember one morning in Washington I was tipped off that if l got up at 5.30 in the morning I'd have a pass for the south lawn of the White House to watch George Bush depart in a helicopter. It was an opportunity not to be missed. You can count the number of pores in his nose, sniff the air of power."
 

Mmmm. This is a dangerous path to tread actors are mocked for political pretensions. “That dismays me," he says. "Over the past 15 years - oh my God, I’ll live to regret saying this - the dignity of actors has been undermined. I didn’t know what a luvvie was when I left England in 1987. Now I suppose they'll say I’m defining it, but why shouldn't we say what we believe? You don't tell doctors, university professors or even journalists to stick to what they do. What’s wrong with actors? We’re members of a profession. There’s probably jealousy because it's not difficult to get people’s attention if you’re in show business, but we’re considered lightweight individuals only interested in our best profile and the next good review. Its so insulting. All my life I've felt blessed that I spend so much time with actors, designers, directors and writers. Blessed! They’re such wonderfully thoughtful and sensitive individuals.”
 

His career divides into two parts. Before he was 47 he worked in theatre in England and after he was offered the part in Star Trek thinking he would be the token Englishman for a couple of years, “it underwent a total transformation. I came here with the idea it was temporary, and that has stuck with me until today.” It wasn’t easy at first to take over from William Shatner as captain of the Starship Enterprise. Trekkies referred to him disparagingly as “this shiny domed thespian” and notices were pinned to his dressing room door saying, “Beware - unknown British Shakespearean actor.” “There was a certain friction, and gossips spread rumours of Bill’s resentment. There were unfortunate incidents but by chance we found ourselves the only passengers on Paramount’s GulfStream jet flying from Las Vegas to Los Angeles and during that 70-minute flight we got to know one another and I was absolutely charmed and delighted to discover what a smart, ironic and realistic individual he is. He's something of a fantasist as well. All actors are. “To some extent, but Bill has taken it sever stages further.”
 

He denies he compromised his talent. “When I started in the provinces and at the RSC we'd nod our heads sagely at the names of Richard Burton and Peter O’Toole, actors who should have been leading the British theatre but we assumed sold out to Hollywood. However, if attitude changed. In England actors have always moved around so there's never been a stigma attached to whatever work we do.” Nevertheless success made him worry he was trapped in velvet handcuffs. “I was apprehensive about being away from England and afraid of succumbing to the temptations of life here - swimming pools, palm trees and sunshine, although I didn’t think it would happen to me.”
 

One casualty was his first marriage, to choreographer, Sheila Falconer, which broke up in 1990 after 24 years [and two adult children].
“Geography played a part. Other friendships that had accumulated over decades became damaged by my being away and recently I've tried to focus on doing repair work.” In August he married TV producer Wendy Neuss, 40, and they five in fashionable Pacific Palisades - with pool, palm trees and sunshine. “I don't look on it as succumbing. I see it as taking good care of myself. For years I refused to acknowledge Id become better off than I ever expected. I was embarrassed by my income. That passed when I understood the value of the work I was doing and the profits made by the network from Star Trek”
 

Critics might see its popularity as bewildering, and evidence of dumbing down. “There’s still an attitude, too easily assumed, that it was a science-fiction show where the actors wore pyjamas,” he acknowledges. “But we have a distinguished list of fans and know the respect with which it's regarded. Anyone who paid attention sees it as provocative and thoughtful.” So why are Trekkies considered the ultimate “anoraks”? All the fault of the press, he believes. “Its entertaining to focus on a narrow percentage who are extreme fanatics and shave their heads. You can look at them and feel superior, but they don't represent the majority of our fans.” He avoided being typecast, refusing to appear in public as Picard or utter catchphrases -except once during the 1997 general election when he introduced Tony Blair at a rally in
Plymouth with Picard’s favourite phrase, “Make it so.” 
 

There will probably be a sequel to X-Men. “No one was prepared for the record-breaking opening weekend when it took $54.7 million. The studio hoped for 30. We stare at each other, not able to comprehend the scale. It was a nice movie, and perhaps we can do a better one next time.” Meanwhile he has his own production company “As a wannabe producer it's a constant frustration to get quality work on screen when so much crap is made. Reality shows like Big Brother are dismaying. They purport to be a new realism, but are totally fake with second-rate actors giving performances which take up valuable air time when I or my pals could be working. It shifts the perception of what entertainment can be, and undermines quality drama.” He was 60 recently, perhaps time to stop trying so hard. “I had a hell of a good party because I wanted to say, ‘Hey, I got here.’ Next day, when I woke with a crashing hangover, my only thought was, ‘Better move on, to the next decade.’ “ Beam him up and make it so.