The Guardian on Blake as Charlie Havistock in Indian Summers:

“Every time I see him, I want to rip out his throat.” You said it, Ralph. When it comes to creeps, Alice’s not-dead-after-all husband Charlie takes the passive-aggressively buttered scone. At the risk of repeating myself, Blake Ritson was born for these roles. He so looks, lives and breathes the part that it’s as if he is not acting but has time-travelled. I love the suggestion of utter psychopathology lurking beneath the aristocratic exterior. (It’s never far buried, people.) And is there anything more chilling that a casually stored lock-culling kit that you pop out of your pocket on a whim? “Hold still, Muddle!” Matched only by the casual racism of his Al Jolson impression with the “Camptown Ladies” and the ugly grimace of his laugh when Miss Prasad was being made to curtsey. Evil Britishness at its most sublime: “We do get experimental when drink is taken.” 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s