I am finding it hard to sleep at the moment, which has caused me to reacquaint myself, via the wonders of Youtube, with a TV series called Department S. I’m currently on a dose of at least two episodes a night. This was Incorporated Television Company supremo Lew Grade’s answer to ABC’S The Avengers: an elite section of Interpol, weird ‘unsolvable’ cases, a wacky main character and occasionally some interesting ideas… but mostly not. Throw in a crime-solving computer with lots of spools and flashing lights, plus an American sidekick with great hair (Joel Fabiani) to help flog the show to the USA, and you have pretty much a cliché of the ITC actionseries formula. Also lots of fast cars and pretty girls, plus a side order of comedy violence. Best of all, a great theme tune: I have very fond memories of driving my Lancia 2000 Berlina around London in the late ’80s with Edwin Astley’s arrangement as a mood-setter.
The action ranges across the UK and Europe; most episodes appear to kick off at Heathrow with a jet either landing or taking off, giving the impression the producers wanted to tap into newly emerging package-holiday aspirations. Not that anything is filmed on location: the budget only extended to potted palm trees and a few exotic numberplates. What could not be filmed on the Elstree back lot or a local hotel pool was recreated in the studio. As in Carry on Abroad, you can see the actors shivering, no matter how hard they try to invoke the feel of the south of France or the Costa del Sol. Via the tiny black-and-white screens on which it first aired, nobody noticed or cared.
The feel is ‘international crime-fighting meets early-’70s Martini advert’, particularly whenever the protagonist, Jason King, appears. With his flamboyant hair and tailored clothes, King was played by the wonderful Peter Wyngarde. This was a new kind of hero, who had the ladies’ hearts aflutter. Wyngarde was a fine stage actor, and Department S made him a household name: at the height of his fame, he published a risqué spoken-word album and was twice voted Britain’s best-dressed man.
Wyngarde became such a phenomenon that, post-Department S, he even got his own series, Jason King. This one I do remember: even aged five I was uncertain of the nature of the man’s appeal. My mum had fallen under his spell – “Do your cuffs like Jason King!” – as the ’70s replacement for the clean-cut Simon Templar.
In fairness, he is the best thing in the show, with his charisma bolstered by a James Young Bentley Continental S2 on Swiss plates; the car, and clothes, were allegedly Wyngarde’s own. He carries his myriad affectations lightly: Sobranie Cocktail cigarettes, matching shirt and tie in lurid colours, and Zapata moustache. When necessary, King/wyngarde can direct a convincing punch, taking on the likes of John Bindon and future Darth Vader actor Dave Prowse. You can even spot Anthony Hopkins in a rare – possibly unique – ITC appearance.
Department S probably has the best set of cars of any ITC series: regulars include a Vauxhall Ventora (for Fabiani), while computer boffin Rosemary Nichols swaps between a Lancia Fulvia Coupé and a Lotus Elan +2S. For foreign missions (driving on the wrong side of the road in Wales) there is a Fiat 2300S Coupé and a Mercedes SL Pagoda; baddies almost always drive Yanks or a recurring black Ford Zephyr MKIV. Corvairs turn up repeatedly – usually as a prelude to a crash – and a black Rolls-royce Silver Wraith limo often stands in for the Phantom V seen in the opening credits. When the script demands that the Wraith explodes, it magically turns into an Austin Sheerline.
They must have knocked out dozens of episodes of this show, because there is always a fresh one to watch. Or maybe they are coming around again and I’ve simply not noticed.
Released in 1956, Alexander the Great was an ambitious project by writer, producer, and director Robert Rossen, intended to bring the life of one of history’s most legendary figures to the screen. Starring Richard Burton in the title role and supported by a distinguished international cast – including Fredric March, Claire Bloom, Danielle Darrieux, Peter Cushing, Stanley Baker, and a young Peter Wyngarde – the film chronicles Alexander’s ascent from the Prince of Macedon to the conqueror of the known world.
Viewed from a modern perspective, the film is a fascinating contradiction. While undeniably grand in ambition and rich in classical pageantry, it occasionally struggles under the immense weight of its subject matter. Nevertheless, it remains an intriguing historical epic and a significant entry in the cycle of large-scale costume dramas that flourished during the 1950s.
The narrative follows Alexander from his turbulent youth and education under Aristotle through his fraught relationship with his father, Philip of Macedon, his accession to the throne, and his subsequent military campaigns. Rather than focusing exclusively on tactical exploits, Rossen attempts to examine the psychological forces that shaped Alexander’s character, resulting in a work that functions as much as a character study as a military epic.
Central to the production is Richard Burton, whose casting was both inspired and problematic. Burton possessed the intelligence, charisma, and vocal authority required to portray a figure of Alexander’s stature; his resonant voice lends significant weight to the dialogue, providing an intensity that few contemporary actors could have matched.
There are moments where Burton is genuinely magnificent. His depictions of Alexander’s ambition and his unwavering belief in destiny reveal the actor at his best, conveying a vivid sense of a visionary driven by forces larger than himself. At other times, however, Burton appears burdened by a script prone to lengthy philosophical discourses. This occasionally renders the character remote, placing Alexander upon a pedestal from which he observes events rather than actively participating in them. Regardless, Burton’s commitment is essential to the film’s cohesion.
Above: Peter as Pasaunius
The supporting cast is equally impressive. Fredric March delivers a commanding performance as Philip II, portraying the Macedonian king as a ruthless soldier whose own achievements are often overshadowed by those of his son. The scenes between March and Burton are among the film’s strongest, centering on a believable conflict between two powerful personalities.
Danielle Darrieux delivers a memorable performance as Olympias. Her portrayal of Alexander’s mother introduces a layer of mysticism and manipulation that helps clarify the psychological tensions driving the future conqueror. Darrieux crafts a character who is simultaneously ambitious, intelligent, and unsettling.
The sprawling narrative also features several distinguished performers. Claire Bloom, Peter Cushing, Michael Hordern, and Stanley Baker all provide solid contributions, lending the production an air of prestige even when the story occasionally loses momentum.
Visually, the film is frequently impressive. Shot in Spain and presented in CinemaScope and Technicolor, it possesses the expansive aesthetic typical of historical epics from this era. The vast landscapes, elaborate costumes, and large-scale battle sequences effectively convey a sense of grandeur. Director Robert Rossen clearly recognised that Alexander’s story demanded spectacle, and he delivers it throughout.
The battle scenes, while modest by modern standards, remain effective. They possess a physicality and immediacy reflective of the period’s filmmaking techniques. By utilizing real performers in carefully choreographed conflict rather than computer-generated armies, the film achieves an authenticity that remains appealing today.
The film’s primary weakness, however, is its pacing. Given the extraordinary nature of Alexander’s life, condensing his biography into a single feature inevitably required substantial compression. Entire military campaigns, political shifts, and personal relationships are reduced to brief scenes, occasionally creating the impression that the narrative is rushing through historical milestones without fully exploring their significance.
Furthermore, the screenplay’s attempt to include every major event sometimes undermines the dramatic focus. Rather than developing a central theme, the film attempts to encompass virtually every aspect of Alexander’s life; while this ambition is admirable, the resulting structure can feel episodic.
For Peter’s admirers, the film serves as a notable early screen appearance. Peter portrays Pausanias, the historical figure closely associated with the assassination of Philip II of Macedon. Although the role is small compared to those of Burton or March, it offers a glimpse of the qualities that would later definePeter as a distinctive performer.
Even at this early stage in his career, Peter possesses an undeniable screen presence. His striking appearance distinguishes him within a crowded cast, and despite the limited narrative space given to Pausanias, Peter imbues the character with intensity and emotional conviction.
It is interesting to note how readily one can recognise the traits of the performer who would later achieve fame in roles such as Jason King. The confidence, poise, and charisma that became hallmarks of his work are already evident. Although the screenplay provides little development for Pausanias, Peter ensures the role remains memorable.
His scenes contribute significantly to a crucial turning point: the death of Philip and Alexander’s subsequent accession to power. While supporting players in historical dramas often function merely as narrative devices, Peter provides Pausanias with an individuality that elevates the character.
Indeed, part of the pleasure in revisiting Alexander the Great today is identifying performers who would later become major stars. Peter’s appearance offers a fascinating look at a talented young actor establishing himself within the industry.
Musically, the film benefits from Mario Nascimbene’s score, which provides an appropriately epic backdrop. The music helps unify the sprawling narrative and reinforces the grandeur Rossen sought to achieve.
Ultimately, Alexander the Great is a film easier to admire than to love completely. While it possesses immense ambition, impressive production values, and a remarkable cast, it occasionally struggles to transform historical facts into compelling drama. Nevertheless, it remains a fascinating example of 1950s epic filmmaking and an intriguing attempt to grapple with one of history’s most complex figures.
For viewers interested in historical cinema, the film offers much to appreciate. For admirers of Richard Burton, it showcases an actor of extraordinary presence tackling one of the most challenging roles imaginable. And for followers of Peter Wyngarde, it provides a valuable early glimpse of a performer whose charisma was already impossible to ignore. Though imperfect, Alexander the Great remains an engrossing monument to the era of the grand historical epic.
Making Of…
At the foot of a mountain outside Madrid, muscular Greek warriors were being taken to fight the Persians in luxury – motor coaches! General Alexander, alias Richard Burton, was dealing with the vanquished before the battle had even begun, and Claire Bloom, who was almost stripped to the waist, was a “spoil of war”.
Then a whistle blows for a break in filming. The armies fraternised; Burton eased his blond wig, and Ms Bloom slips into something less scanty than her hostage’s gown. Meanwhile, Peter arrives in Madrid airport, fresh from playing Dunois in St Joan, to play Alexander’s confidant, Pausaunius.
After settling in to his hotel, Peter is welcomed by writer, producer and Director, Robert Rossen. During his first visit to the make-up department, Peter’shair is lightened from its natural dark brown to blond, and his beard trimmed to a more appropriate 356BC style.
According to well-documented history, Pasaunius – a 20-year-old commander in King Philip’s army, was the lover of both Queen Olypias AND her son, Alexander. Both Peterand Richard Burton feel that this fact is integral to the story, and that it would go some way to explaining the young Macedonian’s infatuation with Alexander and his eagerness to do the Queen’s bidding.
Although Rossen agrees with the two actors in theory, after further study courtesy of the British Museum, The Hellenic Society and the French Classical Dictionary of Great Antiquity, Rossen deem this pre-Christian love- triangle to be too risqué for 1950’s cinema audiences, and decides to leave some of the footage they’ve shot on the cutting room floor.
Scenes ranging from Alexander’s army of 30,000 crossing the Hellespont, the mass wedding of 10,000 soldiers to Persian maidens, and the cutting of the Gordian Knot (which was soaked in acid to make it easier to break), take its toll on Rossen’s $5,000,000 budget, and as a result, many other scenes are cut – including some of Peter’s.
Left: Peter (foreground) as Pausaunius
One sequence that does survive, however, is the assassination of King Philip by Pausaunius, which was filmed mid-afternoon under the relentless Spanish sun. So enthusiastic was Peter at his work that veteran American actor, Fredric March, who played Philip, cries: “Suppress your talent, kid. There’s one more take!”
Peter was also required to ride bareback during one scene, which he’d never done before. The horse he was given had come directly from the set of Lawrence Olivier’s Richard III, which had also been shot in Madrid.
Each evening after filming, Robert Rossen returned to his hotel room to sit down with a tablet of yellow paper – it had to be yellow, as it was the only colour he could work on! – to edit the script. Peter and Richard Burton, meanwhile, stayed in the same hotel, and Burton would often learn Peter to sing old Welsh songs whilst they showered – songs which he remembers to this day.
In the mornings, with the sun blazing,Peter would often strip off his leather armour and took a swim in one of the rock streams which flowed down the mountain to cool off.
Prince Peter of Greece joined the crew on set on one occasion to check on the authenticity of each scene. Rossen wanted the finished film to be as historically accurate as possible, and his assistants were forever seen rushing back and forth with various heavy reference books just to be sure. Of course, there were some things, like the Spanish extras playing both Greeks and Persians- sometimes changing sides during a mornings work!
On the set, Peter drank chilled milk and mixed with such legendary stars of stage and screen as Peter Cushing, Stanley Baker, Barry Jones and Harry Andrews. In total, actors from 28 countries. Bottles of cold water were regularly handed out to 30,000 or so extras gathered to take part in the Battle of Chaeronea scene, which would end the supremacy of the Athenians and make King Philip of Macedonia leader of all the Greeks.
For Robert Rossen, ‘Alexander the Great’ was the most ambitious film of his career –the result of a 5 year labour of love involving countless hours of painstaking research. Not usually given to lofty appraisals of his work, Rossen considered his performance in the Director’s Chair to be a serious one; “Everything Alexander said was beautifully, and constrained something worth saying. The utterances of Napoleon were those of a megalomaniac by comparison.”
Peter, who was the original choice to play Alexander, only lost out to Richard Burton at the eleventh hour, said: “At times when we were filming out there in Spain, I often felt very close to Alexander.”
‘Alexander the Great’ was much more than a big, bawling CinemaScope film. It was a symptom of film production in a n age of television.
According to American producers at the time, there were only two types of film at the time with enough intrinsic drawing power in the Fifties to lure the constant viewer. On the right, the gigantic-spectacle-historical-panorama-five-thounsand-extras-and-sixteen-fires-in-colour-and-preferably-CinemaScope epic. On the left, the so-called “off beat” picture, usually in black and white, grimly and “diametrically” analysing headline ‘problems’, like juvenile delinquency, Communism, trade unionism, drink/drug addiction, or political skulduggery.
To the producer, the new pattern made business sense. To his public, it offered size and shock, neither of which TV had yet learned to provide.
With $5,000,000 to spend (a fortune in those days), and a distribution contract in his pocket, the Hollywood producer of the 1950’s would try his hand at making the biggest, longest, most colourful film in the world. These cinema blockbusters were prepared with a ripe awareness of social and artistic responsibility and much scholarly devotion.
In Spain, Robert Rossen was joined by actors and technicians from 28 nations to work on ‘Alexander the Great’ – including Prince Peter of Greece who acted as a technical adviser, Andre Andrejew – the Russian-born Art Director, and Robert Krasker who photographed The Third Man and Romeo and Juliet.
With the enormous talent employed in its making, ‘Alexander the Great’ was much bigger than your average greatest-picture-ever-made. But its chief aim was to get the new TV generation way from their home screens and back into the cinema.
And to do that, it had to be GOOD as well as big!
Picture Story
King Philip (not pictured) has requested reconciliation with his estranged son, Alexander, who he wishes to lead his armies on a campaign into Europe. Philip, however, demands that four of his generals – including his most loyal companion, Pasaunius, must be sent into exile. The four men reluctantly agree, but upon their departure, Philip mocks Pasaunius, saying: “How will you live without your god, Alexander?”
The following evening, Queen Olypias invites Pasaunius to her bedchamber where she plies him with wine. He tells her of Philip’s insult, adding that the King had treated him no better than a stable boy.
Olypias divulges to him something her father once said: “He who wishes to hand his name down for prosperity should kill the person who has accomplished the greatest deeds. Whenever that person is spoken of, he too will be remembered.”
When Alexander arrives to ask his Mother what she has been filling Pasaunius’ head with, she replies: “Nothing that was not already there.”
The following morning, as Philip arrives in Pellas, Pasaunius darts from the cheering crowd and assassinates the King with his sword.
PETER PAUL WYNGARDE was born on Wednesday, August 23rd, 1933, in Marseille, Southern France. He is the son of an English father and French mother.
Owing to his father’s work, Peter spent much of his early childhood moving from country to country, and was educated in a number of different schools. One city that left a lasting impression on him was Shanghai where he’d been left temporarily in the care of a Swiss family while his father was away on business. Amidst the turmoil and confusion, news broke that the Japanese had captured the city, and when soldiers of the Imperial Army began arresting all British citizens, Peter found himself interned in Lunghau Civilian Assembly Centre[2].
Morale was low in the camp. However, when a radio was smuggled in, as one of the youngest detainees, Peter was used as a runner to spread the news between billets about the Allies progress, and the mood soon lifted. On one occasion while on his rounds, he was caught by a guard, who punished him by breaking both his feet with a rifle butt, and then throwing him into solitary confinement.
One concession the Japanese did allow was for the prisoners to put plays on in the canteen, and it was here that Peter got the acting bug. However, with the dropping of an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, the war was suddenly over. The American’s finally liberated the camp and Peter, along with hundreds of his fellow internees, boarded a cargo ship for Liverpool.
Suffering from malnutrition, Beriberi and Malaria, he was taken to a sanatorium in the Swiss mountains where he remained for nearly two years. After completing his education in Switzerland, France and England, Peter reluctantly honoured his parents’ wishes, and entered university, where he began studying law, but dropped out soon after in favour of a career in advertising. After a brief spell with an agency in London, he walked into an audition, read the part, and was cast as the understudy for the lead in a play in Brighton.
Whilst in Rep at The Grand Theatre in Southampton, he met and fell in love with a young actress, Dorinda Stevens (birth name: Dorothy May Stevens), of whom he said: “She was the most beautiful girl on the block, and I got her!” They married in small church in Sicily. The marriage lasted over six years.
In the mid 50’s, he met up-and-coming actor, Alan Bates, with whom he formed a strong professional bond based on a mutual love of acting [3]. At the time, Peter was living in Kent, where he owned a next door to the actress, Dame Edith Evans. For convenience, the two actors rented a flat in London to use when either one of them was appearing in the West End.
While touring with ‘Duel of Angels’ (1958-1960), Peter and his leading lady, Vivien Leigh, became inseparable, and were soon romantically involved. Their Co-star, Claire Bloom, suggested later that Ms Leigh had set her sights on Peter from the outset. “All the girls in the play adored Peter”, she said in a letter to a student author [5]. ”He was a beautiful boy who we’d have all loved to take to bed! Vivien had her heart sent on him right from the start, and she managed to seduce him.”
Whilst some misinformed sources suggest that Peter had become typecast by his spell in ‘Department S’ and ‘Jason King’, paperwork in the current possession of Peter’s Personal Assistant (see below), bear witness to the number of producers who were eager to cast Peter in new plays and revivals in the West End.
In the early 1980’s, he quit smoking and drinking, and embarked on a healthier lifestyle; jogging daily and visiting the gym four times a week. He also took up Pistol Shooting, entering and winning many local and national competitions. He’s also a master swordsman, who has fought many times at the world-renowned Green Club. He also enjoys watching Formula 1 racing, tennis, boxing and adores Classic cars.
He is a prolific writer, and still works.
CAREER
Naturally gifted, Peter Wyngarde had no formal training. His very first role was in in ‘Pick-Up Girl’ – a play about juvenile delinquency, in which he was cast in a triple role of ‘A Young Man’, ‘The Door Attendant’ and ‘Policeman Owens’. Once old enough, he began learning his trade in Reparatory Theatre in Colchester, York, Chester, Nottingham and Southampton. His first role on the London stage was with the Nottingham Repertory Company at the Embassy Theatre as Cassio in ‘Othello’. From there, he moved to the world famous Old Vic in Bristol, where he played the lead role in both ‘Cyrano de Bergerac’ and ‘Taming of the Shrew’ (Petruchio), and also tried his hand at directing – most notably with ‘Long Day’s Journey into the Night’.
Whilst playing Dunois in George Bernard Shaw’s ‘St. Joan’ in the West End, Peter was invited over to the U.S. to take a screen test for the part of Pausanius in Robert Rossen‘s epic feature film, ‘Alexander the Great’ opposite Richard Burton and Fredric March.
Disillusioned with Hollywood, Peter returned to his first love – the British stage. He was immediately cast as Yang Sun, a Chinese pilot, in Bertold Brecht’s, ‘The Good Woman of Setzuan’, at the Royal Court Theatre in London. It was here that he first made the acquaintance of the Olivier’s – Lawrence and his wife, Vivien Leigh, the latter of whom he later played opposite in the critically acclaimed ‘Duel of Angels’.
In 1957, he was cast as Sidney Carton in a 7-part TV adaptation of Charles Dickens ‘A Tale of Two Cities’. As a result, he received over 4,000 letters from adoring fans, and got his first real taste of being a sex symbol.
Following its hugely successful run at the Apollo Theatre in London in 1958, ‘Duel of Angels’ was to transfer to the American stage. Although reluctant at first to reprise the role of Count Marcellus – mainly because he felt he wouldn’t be able to bring anything new to the part, Vivien Leigh, who’d become extremely close to Peter, managed to change his mind, and so in 1959 he made his American debut at the Helen Hayes Theatre on Broadway. During the tour of the States, he won both the ‘San Francisco Award for Best Actor in a Foreign Play’, and a Tony in the ‘Most Promising Newcomer’ category – both for his portrayal of Count Marcellus.
On his triumphant return to Britain in 1960, he was almost immediately cast as the enigmatic ‘Peter the Painter’ in Monty Berman’s production of ‘The Siege of Sidney Street’ – a film which was based on the true story of the British Government’s legendary battle with a notorious gang of Slavonic anarchist, whose reputation throughout Europe for robbery and murder lead to one of the bloodiest confrontations in British criminal history.
From July of 1960 to March of 1969, Peter appeared in no fewer than thirty television plays, and twice won the coveted Actor of the Year award from the Guild of Television Producers and Directors (UK), in addition to being nominated for an Emmy for his portrayal of Stewart Kirby in the Avengers episode, ‘Epic’. He also made memorable guest appearances in such classic series as The Avengers, The Baron, The Saint, The Champions and The Prisoner, which today have a huge cult following.
In 1969, Peter was cast in what was undoubtedly his most famous role as author-cum-investigator, Jason King, in the ITC action series, ‘Department S’, and soon became the idol of thousands of women the world over. So overwhelming was his effect on television viewers that in 1971, a brand new series – ‘Jason King’ – was devised, which allowed the handsome novelist to go adventuring without restriction.
When the series came to an end in 1972, Peter decided to return to the theatre and, after being greeted at Melbourne Airport by 30,000 screaming fans, he took the city by storm in the World Premiere of ‘Butley’, which played to packed houses every night. Once back in London, he took the lead role in Charles Dyer’s ‘Mother Adam’ at the Hampstead Theatre, of which the highly respected theatre critic, Harold Hobson, said: “Peter Wyngarde gives a performance of near genius – a great actor in the very best sense of the word”.[7].
In 1973, he embarked on a British tour in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s ‘The King and I’ opposite Sally Anne Howes, appearing in all 260 performances. The following year, he once again took up the mantle of actor/director with ‘Present Laughter’, stopping off along the way to host the 1974 ‘Miss Television’ Contest.
In late 1975, Peter headed out to Austria to work at the English Theatre in Vienna, to both act in and direct productions of ‘Dear Liar’ and ‘Big Toys’, before returning to the big screen in an Austrian film (‘Himmel, Scheich Und Wolkenbrunch’) in the role of a latter-day Rudolph Valentino. The following year, he returned to the British stage in the Lawrence Parnes production of ‘Anastasia’, and to South Africa in 1978 to play Sidney Bruhl in Ira Levin’s new play, ‘Deathtrap’.
In 1980, he was cast as the evil General Klytus in Dino De Laurentiis’s lavish 1980’s sci-fi blockbuster, Flash Gordon. In 1984, after an absence of almost 12 years, Peter returned to the small screen, appearing in the four-part Doctor Who installment, ‘Planet of Fire’, which was followed in short succession by the Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense story, ‘And The Wall Came Tumbling Down’, and a memorable guest-starring role in Granada Television’s ‘Bulman’.
In 1989, Peter returned to the stage playing hard-man, Harry Roat, for a nine-months tour of South Africa, Asia and the Middle East in ‘Wait Until Dark’, and in the same year he was cast as the unsavoury character, Sir Robert Knights, in the stylish, yet explicitly violent British thriller, ‘Tank Malling’.
Although scarcely ever agreeing to be interviewed due to his being repeatedly misrepresented by the media, Peter consented to appear on SKY TV’s ‘Jameson’ Show’ in the early 90’s, and in 1994, he made a welcome return to British TV screens in Granada Television’s popular ‘The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes’ series opposite Jeremy Brett.
The long-overdue release of both ‘Department S’ and ‘Jason King’ on video in 1993 helped rekindle interest in the debonair Mr Wyngarde, with repeats of the series being shown on satellite and cable channels, and public pressure resulting in the re-release of his 1970 album on CD [8].
Peter remains one of the most popular British actors of all time, with a thriving fan club (The Official Peter Wyngarde Appreciation Society)[9] and a devoted worldwide following. His appearances at TV and Sci-Fi conventions have drawn thousands of attendees, eager to meet and shake the hand of a true acting legend.
