All language subtitles for Only Fools and Horses (1981) - S00E31 - Extended interview with Nicholas Lyndhurst (576p DVD x265 Panda)_track3_[eng]-eng

I was about to go out the door
and this big parcel arrived.

I ripped it open
because it had BBC written all over it,

and it said, "New series. We'd like you
to look at the part of Rodney."

I was late, so I thought,
"I'll come back tonight and read them then."

I went out, met my friends,
had a few beers, whatever.

Came back and had a look at these scripts

and there was a PS on this note saying,

"Can you come tomorrow morning? Sorry
it's a rush, but we've got to do it quickly."

So I thought, "I've got to read these now
if I'm going to go to this interview."

So I started reading page one, episode one...

about midnight, 12.30,
and I was reading them until half past four,

laughing out loud.

I thought, "I can't wait to do this.
I must get this audition."

I thought it was a regular audition.

I thought I'd turn up and there'd
be eight others going for the job.

I didn't realise it was my job.

And so I met Ray Butt...

who's a little guy, like this.

And I read and he went... "All right. Thanks."

That was it. Off I went and thought,
"Oh, well. Blown that, then. That's a shame."

And they called me back and said, "Can
you come and read with some other people?"

which I did. I didn't read with David then.
I read with Lennard.

And eventually they said, "Hmm.

"OK. We'd like you to read
with this chap — David Jason."

It was only when the three of us read together

that the people behind the desks went,
"Wow. This is good."

That's when I realised
that I'd had the job all along.

There was something quite magical

that moment that David
and Lennard and I first read

in that tiny little office — Ray Butt's office.

We were three different generations of actor
with three different styles of acting

and it all just gelled straightaway.

And John and Ray went,
"Yup. We'll go with this."

And off we went. We all went off to the bar
and thought, "So have we got the job?"

"I'm Nick, by the way. You're Lennard.
David, hi." The rest is history.

I think we were conscious
when we first started rehearsals...

that we mustn't be seen
to be antagonistic towards each other.

On the page, it would have been easy to read it

as if Del and Rodney don't like each other
and they don't like Grandad —

three old farts living in a council house
could be quite oppressive.

But there was such love in the script.

You could see that Del loved Rodney
and would do anything for him and vice versa,

and they all loved Grandad,
and there was a great family bond.

It was apparent that Del had
taken Rodney under his wing

when he should probably have gone
into care after the mother had died.

The father had gone, Grandad wasn't any
help, so it was Del who looked after Rodney.

And they loved each other. That's what
we decided was the most important thing.

Yes, they take the mickey
out of each other all the time,

telling each other to shut up and stuff,

but there is a central love,

which we thought was
the most important thing to portray.

There's always a battle of wits
between Del and Rodney.

They are perpetually
scoring points off each other.

In the pub, chatting up girls
or anything like that,

they're firing at each other the whole time.

I don't know. I suppose that's what
brothers do. Maybe that's what families do.

Yes, Rodney is capable
of being a bit of a schemer.

And in various episodes, he's tried
to break away from Del to do something

and Del has either helped him cock it up
or he's baled him out of it.

But Rodney has been desperate
to stand on his own two feet for years.

And I think it was only when he met Cassandra

that he actually realised
that it was time to start breaking away

from Del

John Sullivan isn't afraid
to write about anything.

There are no subjects he won't touch upon.

In various episodes, we've had...

miscarriages, people dying.

Real-life stuff. Stuff that happens but you
don't expect to see in a situation comedy.

He's clever the way he can lead
an audience up the garden path

until you know what's going to happen,
you're ready for the big laugh,

and then something tragic will happen.
Or vice versa.

Something tragic has happened and
you're watching something very, very sad,

then suddenly you're laughing your head off.

He's just so clever the way
he can interweave all the emotions.

It's a roller coaster ride, a John Sullivan
script — you never know what will happen.

You know it'll be funny, but there'll be
some very touching moments in there.

Lennard had some marvellous speeches
in the first three series.

We were talking about war
and all this sort of thing.

Amazing. A really amazing man.

When Lennard died,
we'd already started filming with Lennard.

We were a couple of weeks into filming
and we heard he'd had a heart attack.

We continued filming
as best we could without Lennard.

There were scenes that David and I had to do

and we were hoping
he'd make a full recovery — as he was —

and then he'd be on a lighter schedule,
but we could still get the show done.

Then a few days later,
David and I were in the make—up wagon

getting made up very early one morning

and Ray just came into the doorway
and looked at us both and shook his head...

and left.

And so we went back to our caravans...

David and I were pretty convinced
that was it —

we certainly didn't feel funny anymore.

But the series had been commissioned.
We were halfway through it.

So we had about five days off, I think...

with frantic phone—calls going on
between everyone.

The first reaction was that we'll replace
Grandad, get another Grandad in.

John was dead set against that,
as David and I were.

So the idea of having another relative
come in =

that was probably the best idea.

But john being such a genius decided
to introduce him at Grandad's funeral.

That was incredibly difficult to shoot. We
did it somewhere just outside Hammersmith.

It was freezing cold and snow was falling.

And David and I just staring into this...grave.

And we'd done it for real the week before...

so that was a difficult thing to get our
head around and we were all very sad.

All the crew knew Lennard.
He was a much-loved man.

And then to actually film his funeral
was a very, very hard thing to do.

Then right at the very end of it,
we throw Grandad's hat into the grave.

And I'm in floods of tears.

And David. Everyone was. Then the vicar
says, "Has anyone seen my hat?"

And the audience just go...whoof!

So that's the kind of genius
we're talking about with john Sullivan.

He can just turn the saddest of occasions
into a belting laugh.

He can do it the other way round too —
turn a belting laugh into something sad.

Basically, as long as the Trotter family
stay together, they will all be fine.

There is a tremendous bond between them —
a great love between them.

With Del, with Rodney, with Grandad,
with Uncle Albert.

With Cassandra, with Tessa's character Raquel.

There is a tremendous love.
They all love each other.

It's not all lovey dovey, they all argue,
but then all families argue.

It would have been very boring
if you'd had all of us just scoring points

and shouting at each other.

I don't think the audience would enjoy that.

So there had to be a genuine affection,
which fortunately we all felt anyway,

so that wasn't hard to act.

It would have been dull to watch three grown
men fighting each other the whole time.

Another reason why John has been so clever
and the series has been so successful

is because it has grown with the times.

It's had Thatcherism,
buying your own council place —

everything that's happened socially
in the last 20 years has been mentioned

in an episode of "Fools and Horses", I think.

It would be very boring for the nation
to tune in at Christmas time and think,

"Here's three guys sitting around,
flogging a bit of this, then arguing."

That's not a successful TV show.

That's how it started out, but it grew
from there. It really took off.

When we started it...

Series one was watched by myself, David
and my Auntie Peggy in Chessington!

No one else saw it.

We were getting less than half
of the normal viewers

that contemporary shows were getting.

We'd go out one day midweek — a good slot,

but it was only six, seven million people.

The comedy show
on the next day was getting 18.

We thought, "We're funnier, aren't we?
What are we missing here?

"Why isn't anyone watching us?"

That carried on throughout series one,
through most of series two...

I think we only gained a couple of million,

which isn't very much
considering there were no other channels.

Video recorders had just come in,

but there was nothing like Sky or BSB
and all the cable channels,

which do now make a dent in the ratings,
but then there was BBCI, BBC2 and ITV.

I think it was only
when the repeats of series two went out

that it started this gradual climb.

People were obviously going,
"I've seen this, but I quite like it."

Then it just...whoosh...took off
two or three years after that.

There was an episode where I had to play
with Boycie and Marlene's dog, Duke.

It was a big Great Dane.
I think it was an episode called...

"From Prussia With Love"?
It was about a pregnant German girl, anyway.

I had to go out and play
with their big dog in the garden,

then I was supposed to come running in
and say something.

Anyway, the dog turned up and —
typical animal trainer speak —

he said, "He'll do anything you want.
He'll work to my command."

We said, "We want it to put both paws
on Nick's shoulders,

"Nick will fall over backwards and that's it."

"Come on, dog." I can't remember
his real name. "Put your hands like that."

Nothing. This dog is just...

"Come on, up you go." Take two.
The trainer's going, "Go on."

The dog's sitting there. Nothing.

So I said, "Why don't I try to wind it up
a bit over the coffee break?

"It doesn't know me. It's not fair.

"If I play with it
and we get to know each other,

"maybe I can make it do it
rather than the trainer."

Fine. So I spent my coffee break
throwing sticks for this dog

and it was gradually getting more excited.

20 minutes went past and I said,
"Come on, see if you can do it."

And it did it, but the camera wasn't turning.

So we started again, turned over, action.

"Up you come!" And this dog went...whoof!

Knocked me down and the camera pulls out.

You can see it in the episode
that the dog is treading all over me,

but it's carefully edited,
because what you don't see

is that the dog got rather too excited...
and actually had me.

That bit's cut out. You can just
see the dog manoeuvring into position —

it's got its paws on my shoulder blades —
but you don't see the next few seconds.

The crew were really, really helpful.
Really helpful.

They fell about.
They were on their knees — weren't we all?

He still writes, the dog.
Just occasionally. Christmas cards.

In "To Hull And Back", John had written
a sequence where we get lost in the North Sea

and we actually go to a gas rig
and ask directions.

So we all piled aboard this...

tub of a steamer called the Inge.

It looked very good. It was seaworthy but...

it wasn't the Oriana.

So we all chugged out from Hull
to go out to this oil rig — gas rig —

but it was about a seven—hour trip.

So what they decided to do was chopper out
one crew to go out to the gas rig,

so it could take shots from the gas rig
looking down at the boat coming up,

and whilst we were chugging out
for seven hours and chugging back,

we could film all the stuff on the boat.

We thought it'd be a good timesaving device —

we wouldn't have to keep going out
and reschedule days.

So 30 or so of us went out
on the boat, chugging away.

I'm OK on the water,
Ray's OK and David's OK...

but it was one of those seas — it wasn't choppy

and it was quite hot and quite still,

but there was a very large swell
running on this sea.

It was a slight crossbeam, so the ship
was pitching and rolling as well.

So out of the 25 to 30 people
that started out on this voyage,

by the time we got to the rig,

most of them have gone bright green
and are being sick.

People are parking custards
over the side like you would not believe.

Wardrobe — gone completely, all of them.
Sparks — gone. Gaffers — gone.

Buster — salty old sea dog, bless his heart —

he'd been parking custards
for the last four hours.

We get to this oil rig and the crew
are up there waiting — "Where is everyone?

"Can you see Buster anywhere?
Where's the camera?"

Make-up did the clapper board because the
camera assistant was at the back with Buster

and wardrobe and sparks and gaffers.

It was... Well, it was awful.

Then we all pulled ourselves together.

The crew that were sick had to go
below so the camera couldn't see them.

Well, you go below on a diesel~engine boat,
you feel seasick anyway.

Every so often, somebody would interrupt the
shot by coming up and going "Bleurgh!™

"Do you feel better now? Get back in that
bloody hole until we've finished filming."

Then we had a seven—hour trip back.
It was a long, long day. A long day.

The Reliant Robin.

Yeah, it was an absolutely
perfect car for the Trotters,

but — what's the best way of putting this? —
it's not the most forgiving car to drive.

If you corner it too fast, it'll go over
because there's only one wheel at the front.

And John decided it would be nice
if we could get smoke coming out of it,

which we actually controlled
on a little panel between the two seats.

We had one for smoke
and one for the backfire —

little explosives that would go off
that special effects had rigged up.

The first time we tried it was OK
but the cameras couldn't see the smoke.

So give it more smoke. We'd hit a switch
and that would pump Redex into the engine,

which would generate more smoke
out of the back. OK. Fine.

So we're pumping this stuff in and they say,
"Action" and we're thundering along,

and David says, "I'll hit the backfire
button now" and that went off nicely.

"OK. Hit the smoke."
And there was a cloud of smoke coming out.

What we hadn't realised was that the Reliant
Robin wasn't the world's most airtight car,

so this plume of smoke just came out
from between our legs

and we were driving blind for
the last 50 yards of this shot and choking.

We got the shot done eventually.

There was another episode where they
wanted to fly this car over a bridge.

I think it was an episode called "Dates",
where Rodney has a car chase in this thing.

They said, "Will you do it?" and I said, "No.

"I'm not driving it beyond 35 miles an hour.

"It's bad enough driving it over
the Humber Bridge between juggernauts,

"no way am I going to fly it."

So they got a stunt man
and he looked at it, looked at the location

and said, "I want full body armour — neck
braces, back braces, leg braces, the lot.

"I've never flown one of these before.
I don't know what's going to happen.

"My money is on the engine
coming out when I hit.

"It'll come down on the front wheel,
that'll push the engine out

"and it'll hit me."

And we're all thinking, "It's got a bit serious."

He knew his stuff and the engine didn't
come out. I think we broke the roof rack.

But there's no way
I was going to fly that car. Not a chance.

A typical filming day would start with us...

If it was winter,
we'd get to the location pre—dawn,

so we'd rehearse the stuff we'd learnt
the night before before the sun came up,

so the cameras could look at it, then as the
sun came up, David and I would get dressed,

cameras and lights would rig up
and then we'd start.

The dawn would be up, then we'd wait until
the sun finally rose and we'd start work.

We only had until three in the afternoon
before we lost the light again.

Certainly in December,

we filmed up until the last few days
before it was due to go out.

So David and I would get to work having
learnt scenes two, three, four and five

to be met with, "Have you learnt
scenes two, three, four and five?"

"Yeah. Learnt them last night."

"OK. Could you have a quick look
at scenes four, nine, 11 and 7?

"We think it'd be better
to do it in this location

"rather than waste daylight time moving.
We will do those tomorrow."

So I used to tease David — and my apologies
to Clint Eastwood in "Dirty Harry" —

because we'd just sit in our caravan
surrounded by pieces of script,

some of which we were supposed to learn
in the next 30 minutes —

learn the day's dialogue.

One day, he was staring at these pages
not knowing which ones to learn, and I said...

(DIRTY HARRY VOICE)
"I know what you're thinking.

"Do we learn scene five or scene six?

"In all the excitement, I've forgotten myself,

"but remember that you're looking
at the pages of "Only Fools and Horses" —

"the most powerful sit—com in the world,
laugh your head clean off.

"You've got to ask yourself —
do I feel funny today?

"Well, do you...Dave?"

It got absolutely frantic.

We did not know from one minute to the next
sometimes what we were supposed to learn.

People would say, "You coming for a drink?"

"Yeah. We'll get drunk with you and tomorrow
go, "Sorry. Did you want us to learn that?

"Sorry. We went for a drink instead."

Basically, our days revolved around
getting out to work in the dark,

learning whatever we could,
going back to our hotel rooms,

getting soup and sarnies from room service
and learning the next day's job.

It's just glamour, glamour, glamour.

There was one story
when we were filming in Miami,

which nearly got me into trouble.

It was lovely for David and I to go to Miami
because we weren't known there,

so we could go into bars
and for the first time in 18-20 years or so,

we could sit and have a beer together
and no one would take any notice.

There was the occasional British tourist,

but locals would just say, "You're Brits?
Welcome to Florida." So that was nice.

We were filming in Coral Gables and there's
a huge hotel there called the Biltmore,

which has a great big tower.

David was doing some split-screen stuff

because he was playing two characters —
Del and the Mafia boss, Don Occhetti.

So I'd got a day off — two or three days
off — in Florida. What shall I do?

So I phoned up my... Not my local, but the
airfield closest to where we were staying

and asked whether I could maybe hire
an aircraft, because I fly aeroplanes.

And they said, "Sure. Come on down.
we'll give you a checkout ride."

Because I'd never flown in America,
I had a safety pilot with me.

We did all the briefings and stuff

and the stuff required of a pilot
to make sure he's safe to fly.

And he said, "OK. It's all yours.
Where do you want to go?"

In the distance,
I could see the Biltmore Tower,

and I said, "Can we head over there?

"Some friends are working over there
and it's about their lunch break.

"So can we just go and buzz the building?"

He said, "Sure. Whatever you want."

And so I went over there
and I could see the tower,

and I thought,
"I wonder if anyone's on the balcony?"

They were filming inside this tower.

So I dipped a wing and went...
Not too close. Never too close.

As I came round for another zoom,
I could see two or three people waving.

So I thought, "They're on lunch break.
I'll go a bit closer. I'll go round again."

A bit lower, a bit tighter round the thing.

"Oh, there's more people waving.
Aren't they friendly?"

So I'm dipping wings and blipping the engine
and generally showing off.

I went round again and I realised
they weren't waving. They were going...

They'd just got to the most complicated part
of the split screen,

which is complicated to do.

They'd just got to the bit where David
meets himself, which takes hours to do.

They had just about finished it

when this spotty Herbert comes along
in his aircraft, "All right, mate?"

And I didn't screw it up once, I screwed
it up three times for them. Sorry, chaps.