"One of the last episodes was all about a flood. We were working in the rain till all hours, and it was muddy and it was cold and it was damp, and it was hours under the hoses. That was not pleasant. That was not pleasant"
About this Quote
Jacobi makes misery sound almost comically polite, and that restraint is the point. The line is built on accumulation: rain, mud, cold, damp, hoses, hours. He’s not crafting poetry; he’s stacking sensory facts until the set turns into a small-scale endurance test. Then he lands on the driest possible verdict: “That was not pleasant.” Twice. The repetition isn’t laziness, it’s a performer’s timing - a deadpan button that lets the audience laugh without him begging for sympathy.
As an actor of Jacobi’s generation, he’s trained to underplay. There’s cultural muscle memory here: British professionalism, a stiff-upper-lip refusal to glamorize “the craft,” and a quiet pride in having survived the indignities that viewers never see. He’s also puncturing the prestige-TV illusion that big, elemental episodes are pure artistic triumph. Flood-on-screen reads as spectacle; flood-on-set is weather, logistics, discomfort, and a crew grinding through it because the schedule doesn’t care.
The subtext is twofold. First, it’s a small act of solidarity with below-the-line workers: the suffering isn’t abstract, it’s communal, and the details make that visible. Second, it’s a mild rebuke to the romantic myth of acting as perpetual magic. Jacobi doesn’t “transform” in the rain; he endures it, then delivers the most understated complaint imaginable. That’s why it sticks: the humor is earned, the complaint is human, and the glamour quietly drains away.
As an actor of Jacobi’s generation, he’s trained to underplay. There’s cultural muscle memory here: British professionalism, a stiff-upper-lip refusal to glamorize “the craft,” and a quiet pride in having survived the indignities that viewers never see. He’s also puncturing the prestige-TV illusion that big, elemental episodes are pure artistic triumph. Flood-on-screen reads as spectacle; flood-on-set is weather, logistics, discomfort, and a crew grinding through it because the schedule doesn’t care.
The subtext is twofold. First, it’s a small act of solidarity with below-the-line workers: the suffering isn’t abstract, it’s communal, and the details make that visible. Second, it’s a mild rebuke to the romantic myth of acting as perpetual magic. Jacobi doesn’t “transform” in the rain; he endures it, then delivers the most understated complaint imaginable. That’s why it sticks: the humor is earned, the complaint is human, and the glamour quietly drains away.
Quote Details
| Topic | Work |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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