My Critique of Barry Foster
Barry Foster’s defining success was the rumbustious charisma he brought to Van der Valk, a long-running lead that used his physicality and sardonic humour to anchor procedural realism. Yet this very geniality could curdle into bluster, with his work occasionally flattening into mannered shtick when the writing lacked bite.
Placed alongside contemporaries like Edward Woodward or a leaner John Thaw, he was less incisive but more warmly avuncular, a pub-bred counterpoint to aristocratic sleuths. For modern audiences, his Van der Valk remains a sturdy benchmark for humane, unpretentious detection, though its casual period attitudes demand a forgiving, historically literate eye.
Early Life
Barry Foster’s path to the stage was an unconventional one, beginning far from the footlights in a world of science and precision. He was born in 1927 in Beeston, Nottinghamshire, the son of a toolsetter, a trade demanding meticulous accuracy.
A family move to Hayes, Middlesex, placed him within reach of London’s cultural pulse. His education at Southall County School was traditional, but his first career choice was a surprising detour into applied chemistry.
He trained as a plastics organic chemist at EMI’s Central Research Laboratories, immersing himself in formulas and experiments. Like many of his generation, National Service followed, with Foster serving in the Royal Air Force.
It was only at twenty that a scholarship offered a decisive escape route to the Central School of Speech and Drama in London. There, he formed a significant, lifelong friendship with a fellow student, the future playwright Harold Pinter.
Early Career & First Roles
Foster’s professional journey began classically, with a 1952 debut as Lorenzo in ‘The Merchant of Venice’. His London premiere followed in ‘The Night of the Ball’ at the New Theatre in 1955.
The 1950s were a vital apprenticeship in regional repertory, notably at the Nottingham Playhouse where he tackled Shakespearean roles like King John and Macbeth. Early film roles were small, often in naval war dramas.
But the stage revealed his burgeoning versatility. He could shift from light French comedy to the stark intensity of Brecht, even performing ‘Brecht on Brecht’ with Lotte Lenya at The Royal Court.
Major Roles
While Foster’s career was long and varied, it is defined by two monumental performances from 1972. These roles represent the twin peaks of his craft, showcasing a formidable range.
Superintendent Piet Van der Valk in Van der Valk
For a generation, Barry Foster simply was Commissaris Piet Van der Valk. First appearing in a 1972 television film, his portrayal spawned a series that ran, intermittently, for two decades.
Foster’s Van der Valk was a compelling anomaly. He was not a hard-boiled action hero, but a cerebral, deeply human investigator who solved crimes through observation and psychology.
Foster brought a masterful stillness and a wonderfully dry, wry humor to the role. His performance was built on intelligent listening; a single, thoughtful glance could convey layers of insight.
He made Amsterdam itself a central character, his palpable affection for its rainy canals and intimate cafes lending the series an authentic, immersive atmosphere that set it apart.
The show’s theme, the instrumental “Eye Level,” became a bizarre pop-culture phenomenon, topping the charts and forever linking Foster’s name to its catchy melody.
When he returned to the role in the early 1990s, the character’s essential decency and methodical intellect remained perfectly intact. He had crafted an enduring and beloved icon.
Van der Valk was a detective defined not by flashy heroics, but by a quiet, unwavering humanity and a sharp, observing mind. It was a masterful and deeply compelling characterization.
Bob Rusk in Alfred Hitchcock’s Frenzy
In stark, terrifying contrast, Foster’s other great 1972 role revealed his capacity for pure, chilling malevolence. Cast by Alfred Hitchcock, he played Bob Rusk, the “Necktie Murderer”.
Rusk was a Covent Garden fruit merchant, all cheerful banter and affable smiles, which made his monstrous secret all the more horrifying. Foster’s performance is a brilliant study in sinister duality.
He played the character not as a raving monster, but as a horrifically ordinary man, making the evil feel plausible, intimate, and deeply unsettling. His everyday charm was his most effective weapon.
The infamous potato truck scene stands as a landmark of suspense cinema. It is a masterclass in wordless physical acting under Hitchcock’s exacting direction.
It proved conclusively that Foster could command the big screen with absolute, unsettling authority. This role remains a chilling high point in the thriller genre.
It serves as the dark, compelling counterpoint to his heroic detective, forever demonstrating the extraordinary breadth of his talent and skill.
Other Notable Work
Flanking these iconic performances, Foster’s career was rich with distinguished character work. He delivered a compelling portrait of Major-General Orde Wingate in a 1976 television drama.
For aficionados of sophisticated espionage, his turn as the cynically bureaucratic Saul Enderby in the BBC’s Smiley’s People (1982) was perfectly judged.
He even took on the ultimate detective role, playing a cerebral Sherlock Holmes in a 1978 series. Guest appearances on shows like Bergerac were always a welcome sight.
Throughout, he maintained his artistic connection to Harold Pinter, delivering nuanced performances in televised plays like ‘The Basement’, showcasing his innate feel for Pinter’s silences.
Acting Style
Barry Foster was an actor of remarkable intelligence and controlled power. His style was defined by a masterful economy of expression and a profound capacity for stillness.
He understood that a potent look or a moment of silent reaction could often convey more than a torrent of dialogue. This quality made him ideal for both detectives and Pinter’s men.
A dry, understated, and very British wit frequently flickered beneath the surface of his characters, feeling earned and intrinsic rather than applied as a comic garnish.
He was a seamless technician, moving between the heightened language of the classical stage and the intimate naturalism of screen acting with effortless grace.
Whether portraying a king, a killer, or a compassionate detective, his work was always grounded, meticulously prepared, and deeply felt. He commanded attention by fully inhabiting his characters.
Personal Life
Away from the cameras, Barry Foster led a steadfastly private, stable, and fulfilling life. He married Judith Shergold in 1955, and their partnership was the enduring foundation of his world.
Together they raised three children, and Foster was deeply dedicated to his family, successfully shielding them from the intrusions of the spotlight—a notable achievement for someone of his fame.
Colleagues consistently described him as warm, generous, utterly professional, and possessed of a sharp sense of humor. He was known for his patience and willingness to mentor younger actors.
A talented amateur pianist, he had a great passion for jazz music. His friendship with Harold Pinter, forged in drama school, remained a significant and enduring bond throughout their lives.
After his passing in 2002, his legacy was honored with the Barry Foster Memorial Award, a trust dedicated to helping disabled children access theatre, ensuring his love for the craft would inspire others.
In closing…
Barry Foster’s career stands as a masterclass in consistent, distinguished, and intelligent acting. He gifted audiences two of the most memorable and contrasting characterizations in British screen history.
His body of work, spanning nearly fifty years, was marked by a steady integrity, depth, and a compelling quiet power. He was the epitome of the brilliant professional.
He remains a highly respected and fondly remembered stalwart of British acting, his performances continuing to resonate with their quiet authority and profound skill.