Let’s be real for a second. The Mitchell brothers are EastEnders for a whole generation. Without their particular brand of toxic machismo and weirdly touching family loyalty, the show would have collapsed ages ago. Kemp knows this. He knows that the secret sauce isn’t just the scripts—it’s the chemistry between him and McFadden.
He essentially said that when they’re in a scene together, there’s a shorthand. A look. A nod. They don’t need to talk about “motivation.” They just are Grant and Phil. That’s a rare magic, folks. You can’t fake it with expensive lighting or a dramatic soundtrack.
Ross Kemp reveals he can't stand to be in the same room as EastEnders
And Ross being Ross, he couldn’t help but add a little cheeky jab. He joked that Steve is the only person who can make him feel small. “He’s had to, of course, because I’m not a small man,” Kemp laughed. (I can just picture them squaring up at the Vic for a laugh between takes.)
Why This Matters Beyond the Square
This praise isn’t just a nice bit of PR. It’s a masterclass in how to behave when you’re a legacy actor. Kemp doesn’t need EastEnders anymore. He’s done war zones and documentaries. He’s earned his stripes. But he still talks about Steve McFadden like he’s the star of the show. That’s class.
It also tells us that McFadden is returning to a supportive environment. Imagine the pressure of coming back after years away—will the audience still adore you? Will the crew think you’ve gone soft? Ross’s public endorsement is basically a giant, neon sign saying, “Give him a chance, he’s the real deal.”
Kemp even hinted that watching McFadden act is like watching a master painter work. He doesn’t do flashy. He does the quiet, terrifying moments. The silence before a storm. The way he can make “Alright, Grant” sound like a prison sentence. That’s talent.
Ross Kemp Praises Steve McFadden Ahead of EastEnders Return - SSBCrack News
The Return We All Need Right Now
Look, we’re all in a weird place. The world is loud, expensive, and confusing. The return of Phil Mitchell—and the respectful nod from his TV brother—feels like a warm, slightly dangerous blanket. It’s familiar. It’s messy. And it’s exactly what a tired nation needs.
Ross Kemp’s little story is a reminder that soap operas are built on relationships. Not just the fake ones on screen, but the real ones in the green room. When a man who has punched his way through war zones can stop and say, “That Steve, he’s a genius,” you listen. And you believe him.
So, as Phil Mitchell parks his car (probably on a double yellow line, because he can) and steps back into our living rooms, remember the friendship that makes it possible. It’s not just a character coming back. It’s a partnership being re-lit. And I, for one, cannot wait to see them squabble over a pint once more.
Cheers, Ross. And welcome back, Steve. You’ve been missed.
