Requiem for Rosemary: 'Department S' — A Retrospective Recommendation
Introducing the Coolest TV Show of the Year…in 1969
“Department S is posited on the notion of the ‘chaos world’ that lurks beneath everyday normality, and is the point of convergence between the professional and amateur heroic traditions within thriller fiction.” — James Chapman, Saints & Avengers: British Adventure Series of the 1960’s
S S S S S S
Today’s the 83rd birthday of forgotten U.K. ingenue-turned-popular-but-short-term television actress Rosemary Nicols. Damn, I dig her.
I thought Ms. Nicols was divine in her prime, and would rather she not fade away. Even though she already kinda has, along with her once-the-epitome-of-cool television series Department S: 55 years gone and nearly impossible to find for at least 45 of ‘em, but now back on YouTube in glorious HD 1080p technicolor (after being a rare period television series shot on 35mm film). I’ve been chewing away in pieces on a piece about it for months, there’s no better time to finish it than today.
Department S debuted in early 1969 on the BBC competitor ITV and is an hour-long episodic series that follows the international mystery-solving adventures of the fictional titular “S” subdivision of Interpol, the real life global law enforcement and investigative organization. In the show, Department S is Interpol’s most elite unit, called in only when “cases are inexplicable, baffling and illogical. Its operators handle only cases which cannot be solved by normal police routine,” anywhere around the world:
An entire small village’s population disappears overnight. A 747 lands at a busy airport, six days after it was pronounced missing. A man clad in an astronaut’s suit suffocates inside it and dies in the middle of a bustling metropolis. An economic professor’s recently deceased wife keeps popping up around his house. A late-night subway train pulls into its last station with all the passengers dead. You get the idea.
The central premise is similar to The X-Files — solve an unsolvable seemingly supernatural mystery! — and likewise has a pre-credit opening where the plot puzzle is set in motion, but with one big difference: Department S is about debunking the otherworldly and finding a logical and scientific solution to uncover bizarre events and solve uncanny crimes.
Department S — what does the scarlet “S” stand for? Maybe best not ask — ran on British Television for almost exactly a year to the day, from 4 March 1969 to 9 March1970, and was syndicated in the USA in the early 1970s. It is another action-adventure show produced by the storied British production house ITC, which created many iconic action-adventure television shows in the 1960s —
— including The Saint, The Avengers, The Prisoner, Space 1999, UFO, Thunderbirds, and a bunch of others (including, oddly, The Muppets). I wrote about ITC last year when it was clear Amazon’s Lord of the Rings of Power had become the biggest flop in TV/streaming history. Compared it to ITC’s big budget 1971 series The Persuaders!, starring Roger Moore and Tony Curtis, another show that cost a ton of money that nobody watched but is actually a whole helluva lot more entertaining than Amazon’s dumpster fire of other people’s money.
Unlike Lord of the Rings of Power, people watched Department S. It was ahead of its time in ’69 and while definitely dated in 2024 in a bunch of ways, it’s often dated "in a good way” to my nostalgic tastes. It helped set fashion trends, created one Big Star who burned out fast, and was quite risqué and “edgy” for its era, pushing the limits of what was permitted on television.
The best thing about Department S is how, more than a half-century later, it self-evidently shows how the things that make terrific popular entertainment terrific are timeless: Solid stories, clever dialog, interesting and good-looking characters embodied by a memorable and talented cast, a bit of violence, a little sexiness. Sometimes a significant amount of sexiness.
Department S also understands and displays the one key element that TV has over film: When you have appealing and intriguing characters played by charismatic talent, viewers will want to return to the show weekly to spend more time with them; they’re people you don’t mind inviting into your home. Combine that with a compelling formula and intriguing plots and you might just catch lightning in a bottle.
The cast of Department S strikes that spark. The primary investigative trio in Department S is intriguing and compelling, everybody’s smart, and they play off each other with wit and aplomb. I enjoy spending an evening with them and sharing their adventures, and remain entertained because of the cast and their chemistry even when the story’s enigma and/or solution is lame (which becomes increasingly so as the 28-episode series grinds on).
There are four re-occurring characters. The smallest role goes to the most powerful and groundbreaking: Sir Curtis Seretse, a Nigerian diplomat played by Gambian actor Dennis Alaba Peters. Seretse possesses a top-level security clearance, rubs elbows with Prime Ministers and Presidents, and is the liaison between the U.N. and Interpol; he chooses which cases get assigned to the investigative trio, to whom he then bestows enormous freedom and leeway.
Well-spoken and to-the-point, the very darkly black Seretse was a leading-edge television character. Some writers about the series claim he was the most powerful black man regularly seen on fictional television up to that time, and I can’t find one before him with more international sway.
Seretse’s primary contact at Department S is the man in the field, handsome dapper American Stewart Sullivan (Joel Fabiani), a former FBI guy who is perceptive and astute, decisive, gets to the heart of matters and into at least one not-very-realistic fight per episode, where he usually handles himself well. He’d be close to generic, if not for the deft touch from Fabiani, who brings more personality to the Bond-lite role than the typical pretty boy with cleft chin and lacquered hair.
Sullivan works closely — very closely indeed, and we’ll get to that later — with Paris-based Brit Annabelle Hurst (Ms. Nicols), a just-the-facts expert researcher and data analyst who oversees the team’s state-of-the-art computer, a comically massive machine deemed “Auntie.” But Annabelle also proves capable in the field the few times she’s tasked, with lock-picking skills and convincing impersonation personalities. She is brilliant and confident and well-dressed and occasionally barely dressed and quite alluringly played by Ms. Nicols, whom I at first took for an almost blandly pretty actress and not much more.
But after watching her for a bit, I quickly realized Rosemary Nicols is dynamite. Fresh faced and wholesomely sexy, she sets herself apart from the generic with sparkling intelligent blue eyes, empathetic feminine poise and absolutely killer legs. I mean, holy cow, Rosemary Nicols had the best legs on television in 1969, and they get shown off a lot. A LOT. To my taste — all-natural pretty gal, refined and stylish but not uptight, British accent, museum-worthy legs, smarter than me, Yahtzee! — Rosemary Nicols’ Annabelle Hurst is second only to the forever iconic Diana Rigg’s Emma Peel of The Avengers among ITC programs’ heroines. She’s just got that classic je ne sais quoi combination of intellectual, admirable and desirable. Rule of Three!
Almost all the best episodes for Rosemary Nicols/Annabelle Hurst take place in the first half of the series, before she mostly gets shunted aside to “girl in the chair” status in the back half for more time with….
Jason King, the team’s beyond flamboyant mastermind, and the blockbuster best-selling creator of Mark Cain adventure novels, which the author often fictionalizes from Department S’s investigations for his books. King is a foppish egomaniac, womanizer, hard drinker, chain smoker, narcissist and straight-up mad genius, who works as a Department S consultant and can also handle himself in a fight, kinda, losing about half the time. He’s both comic relief and a new breed of hero, and for a few brief years Jason King was the hottest property on European television.
Jason King became the series’ breakout character and propelled the mostly theater actor Peter Wyngarde into a few years of superduperstardom in television and fashion. As the face of Department S — effortlessly smooth, inherently dashing, distinctively horseshoe-mustachioed — the series’ scripts became increasingly tailored to the role, mostly not to the show’s betterment IMHO, but I guess the ratings don’t lie.
Wyngarde (née Cyril Louis Goldbert) became such a big name — awarded Britain’s sexiest man alive, 1970’s Best-Dressed Man in the World, mobbed like the Beatles when he ventured outside — that his ego ballooned bigger than Jason King’s, to the point where he was able to push out the two other actors and take over things all for himself: The follow up season of Department S was a solo affair, called Jason King, with Wyngarde globe-hopping and solving mysteries with a new tagalong gal every week. Jason King started strong but degenerated towards schtick over its 26 episodes, with repetitive plotlines and nearing self-parody. Jason King only lasted one season, while Wyngarde did not handle his fame well and crashed’n’burned spectacularly — as it turned out, the most desired man in the world mostly desired other men, and Wyngarde got busted trying to pick up an undercover cop in a men’s public rest room. His career never recovered.
But the character and actor are at their creative peak in the first season of Department S. Jason King is a fascinating period presence and retired icon of a bygone age, perceived as the total embodiment of masculinity in the moment of 1970: An expert in haute cuisine and living the fine life of the material world, King is hugely hedonistic and libidinous, drinking and smoking constantly, sporting his oversized droopy mustache, and dressed to kill an army of willing women. For a very short window, Jason King captured the “every man wants to be him, every woman wants to be with him” Zeitgeist a half-century ago.
Almost all the best episodes of Department S are front-loaded in the series, though once you get a feel for the distinctive characters and their chemistry, they’re all worth a watch with lowered expectations.
If you’re only going to sample one, the best is the first: “Six Days” is about a 747 that lands at London’s Heathrow Airport…six days after it was expected but declared “missing” without a trace; passengers and crew have no memory of the lost time. “Six Days” perfectly captures what the series should be: A fantastic fast-paced mystery, one that caught me off-guard twice and with great character moments for the three leads, especially Rosemary Nicols, hubba hubba.
But the thing is, “Six Days” was the 6th episode shot and presumes you know a lot about the characters already. Jason King doesn’t show up until the episode’s about 1/3 over, while Stewart handles all the action; Annabelle appears and is active, but we don’t even know her name until well into the back half.
Still, in some ways, that adds to the intrigue of the series; we’re immediately tossed into the deep end — who are these people? What do they do, exactly? — and have to hit the ground running (if I’m allowed to egregiously mix metaphors). Plus the story is really good, with multiple twists; if you don’t like this one, you won’t like the series overall.
The second episode “The Trojan Tanker” was the fourth shot, nearly as good, as we start to learn more about the characters, including the first pretty obvious hint that Annabelle and Stewart are sleeping together. The series never overtly states or shows this, but it becomes increasingly clear by their familiar behavior and double entendres and shared vacations (in one episode we discover Stewart has a key to Annabelle’s apartment, when he shows up while she’s in the tub).
Department S is loaded with this kind of thing, plot and character elements going on at the fringes without being stated overtly, presuming its audience is at least close to smart as its protagonists. This was premier adult television entertainment back in the day.
But there are 28 episodes that were churned out over the course of a year, and as anybody who’s worked in episodic television (or watched it) will tell you, at that pace there are diamonds and there are dogs. Like I did with The Persuaders!, here are five of the best episodes of Department S, with natural character development for optimal chronological enjoyment:
The Pied Piper of Hambledown — A young woman takes a sleeping pill and wakes the next morning to find her small village deserted. This was the second episode shot, and it feels like a pilot: The characters are introduced effectively, we learn Jason King is new to the team; there’s snappy patter, and the mystery of a rustic deserted Mary Celeste-ish village is a top-notch hook.
Six Days — Now that you’ve got your bearing with the characters, watch the best written and most sturdily constructed episode, about a missing airliner that arrives nearly a week late, with no explanation from the mystified pilots or passengers. All three leads are actively in the field investigating and each contributes to breaking the case open with their own distinct skills. This is also Annabelle’s best episode and you’ll know why I think that after you see it.
The Trojan Tanker — A tanker truck has an accident on a rural country road. When locals go to help, they find that its cargo isn't fuel but instead an unconscious woman inside the empty tank. When emergency services arrive, however, the woman has disappeared. Another good teamwork episode, as Stewart gets to do some James Bond-type stuff at a casino and there’s a gratuitous nude scene under a well-placed sunlamp for Annabelle.
Who Plays the Dummy? — A motorcycle cop chases a speeding car weaving all over the road, which finally crashes. When the police officer investigates, however, he discovers the driver is a mannequin. Lots of action in this one, and possibly the most dangerous villain. You’ll have to ride out the clunky bluescreen.
One of Our Aircraft Is Empty — Another airplane mystery, this time a 747 from New York lands at Heathrow and stops on the runway before reaching the terminal, blocking additional landings and cutting off its communications. When airport staff investigates, they find the plane is empty: All 130 passengers and crew are gone. Good mystery, one surprise twist, cynical solution, well done.
BONUS: A Small War Of Nerves — One of the last episodes produced, I include this one because it features only the second screen appearance of multi-Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins, who is the primary guest star as a chemical weapons specialist who gets pangs of conscience and steals a deadly nerve agent. It becomes a battle of will and intellect between the scientist and Jason King; Wyngarde is quite good here, the most serious of any episode, you can see Hopkins makes him raise his game.
There are several other good entries — The Man in the Elegant Room, the Man from X, Handicap Dead, Last Train to Redbridge, a few more — and YMMV depending upon personal taste. But it’s generally a wise bet to stick with the earlier episodes, before Wyngarde commandeered the series.
So that’s it. I probably like this show more than it deserves, but it just has so much that hits me the right way. And it’s Rosemary Nicols’ birthday. Happy birthday, Ms. Nicols, wherever you and your million-dollar legs are.
ITC’s film company went on to make two great movies: Capricorn One & The Dark Crystal. A shame they couldn’t find more success. Waiting for your deep dive into The Prisoner. Love your Stack.
Peter Wyngarde and Charles Bronson's love-child is Adam Driver.