My Fifteen Minutes with Ken Russell

Five years ago I interviewed Ken Russell.

I was under no illusions, it had been a while since the 'wild man' of British cinema had made a film but that didn't stop him be outrageous in what he did and said. I was prepared, I'd done my homework, I'd discovered a way in.

Did I mention it was a live interview on daytime radio. Hmmm. We all knew we were playing with fire - but that warm glow draws us in. Ken and I were in the same studio, as is the case with many a radio  interview he was in a satellite studio somewhere.
.
I began by taking him back to his early life in Southampton where his father had a boot shop. Next door to his shop there was another, selling surgical goods. I'd discovered that this was owned by Benny Hill's dad.  So we got off to a good start talking surgical limbs and Benny Hill.

He warmed up nicely and there were no signs of the wild man. He was chatty enough, I kept kept the banter going as we began to talk about his films; the early black and white explorations of great composers made for the BBC, the bigger later films that courted attention, high praise and criticism. I've always loved The Boyfriend, a quirky take on a show business story and we talked about that.

I recall he started to tell a story about being touched up by a scout master at a screening of Pinocchio but I think I managed to steer him away from that one. 

Then I made my big mistake. I didn't see it coming, how could I. The question was innocuous enough:

"What advice do you offer young film makers?" I asked in my Bambi innocence.

Back came the reply.

"I tell 'em to fuck off!".


Whoa!

That brought things to an abrupt end. I made some fumbling apology and that was the end of our encounter. My producer was straight on the phone to his people, there was a blazing row...What had started so well ended poorly. Much like his career.

When I heard of his death yesterday I thought back to that day. I think I'd lulled dear old Ken into a place of safety, he was enjoying himself too much. He was relaxed, happy to come up with some outrageous puns. His guard was down and he'd probably completely forgotten he was live on air in the middle of the day. I wonder if he would have offered the same answer if we'd been in the same studio. Maybe - after all he was the wild man of British cinema.