In the past decade or two, Philip Glenister has risen to become one of Britain’s most popular TV actors but for longevity and range I rate his older brother Robert even more highly. For starters, it’s hard to pigeonhole him. Is he a posh politician, a down-at-heel detective, soldier, shopkeeper or just an ordinary bloke? Well, he is a talented actor so the answer, of course, is all of the above – and more.
He first demanded attention in the early Eighties as a toothsome teenager portraying Peter Davison’s gobby, thorn-in-the-side little brother in Alex Shearer’s comedy Sink Or Swim. I quite liked the series, and considered Glenister’s layabout Steve the best thing in it. As well as getting the most laughs, his Northern accent seemed far more authentic than Davison’s, although I later learnt that both hail from the London area. As a rather naïve, little-travelled undergraduate myself, I was hardly the best judge of regional linguistics, but hats off to Mr Glenister!
A few years later he was being rather more helpful to Peter Davison, this time in the latter’s final Doctor Who adventure, The Caves of Androzani, although you never remember the good guys, only the monsters. Step into the Tardis and fast forward thirty-six years to – er- nineteenth-century USA and there was Robert Glenister again. Instead of withstanding an android attack, this time it was more convincing alien robo-scorpions. Being 2020 it was a more educational affair, exploring the commercial rivalry between Glenister’s mega-rich Thomas Edison and the aspiring inventor Nicola Tesla with the help of Jodie Whitaker and chums. Electrifying stuff (sorry!).
Back to the 1980s and 1990s, and I caught Robert Glenister in a few other programmes. He wore glasses in an ITV adaptation of PD James’ Cover Her Face and a military moustache in Soldier Soldier. Thanks to the chart career of Robson and Jerome, forged on the programme, I wasn’t a regular viewer, but almost certainly saw a few episodes in which he portrayed Colour Sgt Ian Anderson. I definitely watched the 1992 Only Fools and Horses Christmas special but had forgotten Robert’s part in inadvertently inspiring Del-Boy’s moneymaking scheme to market Peckham Spring Water.
Into the twenty-first century, and broadcasters began to invest in crime drama which suited my own unadventurous tastes. Like so many actors, Glenister found himself playing cops of varied rank, class and shiftiness. I know I watched Marks and Gran’s 2000 comedy-drama Dirty Work but can’t for the life of me recall Robert’s character or indeed anybody else’s. It’s so forgettable it doesn’t even warrant a Wikipedia page. He also had a recurring role opposite David Jason in A Touch of Frost, as a rather mixed-up DS Terry Reid, and in 2016 played by far the most interesting character in ITV’s thriller Paranoid. Although in his fifties, he was only a DC, a solid copper but pushed to the edge.
I guess the more mature actors find roles as active whippersnappers somewhat less hard to come by. With a receding and greying hairline, Glenister has increasingly appeared as more Establishment figures. In 2008, he was cast as a rather unpleasant Special Branch Commander in Inspector George Gently and around the same time played the Home Secretary in several episodes of Spooks. It made a change to see our heroes’ political master depicted not as an egotistical ambitious bully but an intelligent, honourable minister who understands the MI5 standpoint – most of the time. In last year’s Cormoran Strike mystery Lethal White, Robert Glenister was back in Government, albeit demoted to Culture Secretary. With the name Jasper Chiswell, he could never be an angel, but it was he who hired private detective Strike to investigate a blackmailer in a rather convoluted story.
However good he is at playing upmarket figures of dubious personality, I do prefer Robert Glenister as a more ordinary bloke. In the middle of the first Covid lockdown in May, he starred in one of ITV’s short but sweet Isolation Stories: Ron and Russell. He played a middle-aged man bedridden with the Coronavirus, being nursed by his ne’er-do-well son. Made in compliance with social distancing, the latter was played by his real-life son Tom, while Robert’s wife proved highly adept behind the camera. It was a moving but very funny piece, beautifully acted.
But what really elevated Robert Glenister up the ranks of TV actors was his role as Ash in BBC’s Hustle. He appeared in all 58 episodes as the main fixer of the team of likeable, Robin Hood-ish conmen. Despite the presence of Adrian Lester, Marc Warren and Robert Vaughan, for me it was Robert who created the programme’s heart and soul, a salt-of-the-earth Londoner able to play any part and devise all manner of ingenious tricks to rid baddies of their dosh. It showed Glenister at his best: not a leading man but a stand-out member of any ensemble cast.
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