Tag Archives: romantic MK






And, of course, what follows is Michael Kitchen’s beautiful delivery of a speech that’s at once touching, romantic, and humorous.

Dominic Dromgoole wrote in The Sunday Times (Aug. 31, 2003):

Kitchen and Okonedo are two of our best actors. They managed to play a substantial story of growing love without any intense stares or moist lips or fidgety signals. There was a lone touching of the upper arm. What they played was a slow-growing spread of trust between two people, and what is love if not trust?

Me, too! Sophie Okonedo and Michael Kitchen are a dream team.



“I was injured in the First War – not very badly – but I was young, alone, frightened. She was a volunteer nurse.”



“I can tell you that she was desperately unhappy with the life she was leading – at her happiest when he was away – but chose to pursue that life for the sake of the child she was carrying.”

Foyle reveals his love affair with Caroline Devereaux to her son. ***








Jack’s not sure what hit him as Christine barrels in and out of his office with her sudden decision. A few takes of this scene and both parties are liable to have bruised lips. Love Michael Kitchen’s bug-eyed face.





A joyous homecoming in The Railway Children. (Storyline aside, who wouldn’t be elated to run into Michael Kitchen’s arms?) I love how he’s enveloped by her voluminous shawl as they embrace, making the reunion of husband and wife all the more intimate and romantic.





With Michael Kitchen delivering those lines while looking like that, I can’t help but wonder if any acting was required by Niamh Cusack to produce her reaction in the last frame. Sigh.



Michael Kitchen reciting the poetry of love from Shakespeare in this video clip of him as Antipholus of Syracuse making romantic overtures to Luciana. His ardent words are met with shock and dismay, though, since Luciana has mistaken him for her brother-in-law, Antipholus of Ephesus, and thus believes him to be already married to her sister!

The BBC Shakespeare Plays: Making the Televised Canon, by Susan Willis, contains interesting behind-the-scenes details about the making of The Comedy of Errors that highlight Michael Kitchen’s professionalism. I was most surprised to read that MK was sick with a bad cold during the first two days of filming, which included the segment in the clip. His illness isn’t evident to me, although Willis writes that MK “looked very drawn during the taping”. Willis also explains that while performing the scenes upstairs in the Phoenix, MK was always conscious of the shadow of his head falling on the faces of the actors across from him and tried to manuever his head out of the way whenever possible.

And according to Willis, “Kitchen was not interested in fighting; he might be seen buying a sword but did not want to draw it.” As a result, the traditional opening of Act V Scene I showing Antipholus and Dromio battling witches and demons was replaced with the two of them being chased around the set instead. All in all, the production seems to have been a highly collaborative one between the director and actors — the way MK likes it.


Since it’s Virginia Woolf’s birthday today…



steviecat123 said: Oh my, the way his head drops and his eyes close…

And then his entire body drops with his signature knee dip – it’s the picture of dejection.

KT said:

Just love those Mrs Dalloway GIF’s, thank you! So wish GIF’s had sound; Michael Kitchen and Vanessa Redgrave have a similar velvety timbre to their voices – SO attractive.

Yes, gifs with audio would be wonderful.



Love this flirtatious exchange between Jack and Christine with a tantalizing Mediterranean meal up for offer.






Shortchanged on Foyle and Barbara, but at least there was Jack and Christine.


Oh, to have been among the fortunate audience who caught the 1974 broadcast of The Early Life of Stephen Hind (based on Storm Jameson’s novel) before it was sadly locked away from public view in the BBC vault like so much of Michael Kitchen’s television work. I can only imagine, after reading Clive James’s assessment in The Guardian (Dec. 22, 1974), how ruthlessly attractive Michael Kitchen must have been in the title role:

The Early Life of Stephen Hind (BBC2) was a three-part mini-series which did its thing and split before I could recommend it. Based on a Storm Jameson novel, it was handled with great style in all departments. Michael Kitchen ably played a Felix Krull type who charmed the ladies in all directions. It was surely no ordeal for Kitchen to stand around being called good-looking by a stream of personable women. But the character he was portraying, it emerged, was a bit of a rat — a bounder working his way up in the publishing world by a series of betrayals. He had a comeback, though, when taxed with acquisitiveness. He had been born into a life without order, comfort or beauty, and now that he had seen these things he wanted them for himself.

Michael Kitchen was also in the repeat of one of the best Country Matters. The Four Beauties (Granada). Again he was being adored by a row of stunning girls. How does this guy do it?








For someone who expressed such reluctance in kissing dear Henry, she sure came around in the end.







William hits on Philippa, but his pivot and pick-up lines fall flat with her.