Latest news with #HestonBlumenthal
BBC News
6 hours ago
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Bereaved Clacton mum praises Blumenthal for bipolar film
A bereaved mother who took part in Heston Blumenthal's documentary about bipolar disorder has praised the "super brave" celebrity chef for wanting to end the stigma on mental opened up about his illness and spoke to others about their experience for the BBC film, My Life with them was Natalie McClellan, whose 24-year-old daughter Rebecca had bipolar and died in Ipswich in November 2023."If Heston can say 'I have bipolar but look at what I'm achieving, you can live a fulfilling life', it might change perspectives on mental illness," said Ms McClellan. "He is super brave to do it; he has really put himself out there to help others."I try to do the same, but none of its easy."Since Rebecca's death, Ms McClellan has campaigned for improved mental health provision that could have helped her daughter, who she said felt "abandoned". She shared her story with Blumenthal over several hours at her home in Clacton-on Sea, emotional experience helped them both, she said, particularly as Rebecca and Blumenthal had much in even transpired that he had gone into hospital for his condition when Rebecca died."They had the same sorts of visual disturbances, he's got ADHD and she was awaiting a diagnosis," she said."I showed him videos of her, photos, and one video in particular where she says 'my bipolar is popping'."He said 'that's exactly how it is', I think he found that emotional." The chef also became upset when talking about the impact of his bipolar disorder on his family - an experience that rang true for Ms McClellan."Rebecca didn't always tell us [how she felt], she would mask because she was worried about the effect it would have on us," she said."You just want your loved ones to be well and know what's going on, obviously I would rather worry every day but still have her here."Heston was quite open, he feels he has hurt his family and she [Rebecca] would be the same." The trainee paramedic was left with no GP or psychiatrist when she moved to Ipswich for work, her mother previously told the August 2023, she drove to a mental health unit and begged for help and said she was willing to drive anywhere in Norfolk and Suffolk to see someone, but staff told her to leave and threatened to call police. 'Not complacent' In the film, Blumenthal is shown Rebecca's mobile footage of the incident, which he described as "absolutely shocking"."Since we lost Bex it's been really important for me to push for changes in mental health and the support people get," added Ms McClellan."I will keep going and keep going for people who are suffering in the way she suffered, but it's not easy, it's only been 18 months [since her death] and it's still very raw."The reason Heston was speaking out was he wants to end the stigma. "It's so important to me that I'm part of that message."I was honoured and proud to be part of that process, and I hope he feels proud, too."Rebecca was under the care of the Norfolk and Suffolk NHS Foundation Trust (NSFT), which was in special measures for several years until January this March it completed a review into the circumstances of her death. A date for an inquest has not been chief Caroline Donovan, who joined in autumn 2023, said it had made "considerable progress" in its work to learn from deaths of patients and thanked Ms McClellan and other families for their "invaluable challenge and support"."We are not complacent and know we have much more to do to transform our services so that everyone receives safer, kinder and better services from us when they need them," she My Life with Bipolar is available on BBC iplayerIf you are affected by any of the issues in this article you can find details of organisations that can help via BBC Action Line. Follow Suffolk news on BBC Sounds, Facebook, Instagram and X.
Times
6 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Times
Heston: My Life with Bipolar review — a frank account of his breakdown
In 2004 I interviewed Heston Blumenthal at his Fat Duck restaurant on the back of one of his brilliant ideas that some less enlightened souls might have called bonkers. He wanted patrons to put on headphones and listen to their own slurps and crunches as they chowed down on the Berkshire establishment's fabled dishes of snail porridge, and egg and bacon ice cream. While it was more fun than it sounds, I had no idea that behind this hugely likeable, dazzlingly imaginative and energetic success story lurked an array of problems that in November 2023 had him sectioned. To those who knew him better, however, his ADHD and bipolar diagnoses were less of a shock. Heston: My Life with Bipolar (BBC2) may have been yet another of those emotional journey films, but it was an unusually powerful and important one. Honesty is a prerequisite but, Blumenthal being Blumenthal, he took emotional frankness to a more extreme — you could say snail porridge — level, even playing himself in a reconstruction of the moment when he was injected with a 'whacking great syringe' and carted off to a psychiatric unit. • Read more TV reviews, guides about what to watch and interviews His inner circle, including his wife, Melanie, and the former Fat Duck head chef Garrey Dawson, spoke compassionately about his breakdown. Dawson recalled the moment when Blumenthal imagined that he could speak telepathically to his slobbery bulldog, Harry. Blumenthal is now heavily medicated, something that has added pounds, slowed his speech to a drowsy murmur and left him with a lingering terror that his creativity might be compromised. Yet this was no self-pitying wallow, more a determinedly bracing quest for understanding. He also wanted to make amends, notably with his chef son, Jack, who spoke on camera for the first time about growing up with a dad who was almost entirely self-absorbed and offered no sense that he 'gave a shit'. Their reconciliation was beautiful. Another sequence had Blumenthal looking back on a TV interview in which he barely stopped speaking for half an hour, his mind firing off like a Catherine wheel on every conceivable subject except the one they were meant to discuss (robots in kitchens, since you ask). The artist Sarah Graham, who also has bipolar disorder and was one of many excellent and engaging talking heads, was able to laugh about making a friendship bracelet for Vladimir Putin during a mental health episode; Blumenthal, for his part, thought he could single-handedly solve the world's water crisis. These lighter moments were important in a film with many dark ones, most notably the heart-rending chat with the mother of a vibrant young woman with bipolar who took her own life. Like many campaigning programmes, this didn't have a clear set of goals beyond the obvious one that we need to give more support to those who have a condition that affects more people in this country than dementia. The great chef clearly feels lucky to have had the means and loving support to come through. 'The peaks of my manic highs have shrunk and the depths of the lows have risen, but I am still Heston,' he said. Long may that be the case. Vive le chef. Vive le snail porridge.★★★★☆
Yahoo
14 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Heston Blumenthal reveals impact of being sectioned in BBC bipolar documentary
Heston Blumenthal has spoken of his struggles with mania and the impact it had on the people he loves, 18 months after he was sectioned. The 59-year-old chef, known for his Channel 4 shows Heston's Fantastical Food and Heston's Feasts, was hospitalised in November 2023 following a severe manic episode. He was subsequently diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Now, Blumenthal is sharing his story in BBC documentary Heston: My Life with Bipolar, airing 19 June on BBC Two at 8pm. Filmed over six months, Blumenthal reflects on how bipolar disorder has shaped both his personal life and professional success. Blumenthal was sectioned after he showed his wife, French businesswoman Melanie Ceysson, a drawing of a gun he'd hallucinated. Fearing he was a danger to himself, Ceysson contacted the mayor of their village in France for urgent help. Soon after, police, firefighters and a doctor arrived. Blumenthal was sedated and spent two weeks in a psychiatric hospital, followed by six weeks of intensive treatment at a specialist clinic. "It was a dark period," he recalled. "The psychiatrist diagnosed me as bipolar; it was a surprise. I started looking back more and more to my life pre being sectioned, and how come it's taken me until 57 years of life to discover I have bipolar." The intervention followed months of increasingly erratic behaviour. Now stabilised on medication, Blumenthal says those manic phases are behind him. "When I first came out of the hospital in the beginning, it felt like I was slightly zombie-fied from the medication. I've changed a lot, in the sense of my massive highs and lows have been ironed out. I'm much calmer, I don't have those manic phases," he explained. "Would I have sectioned myself? No way [but] she had to do it for me and for herself as well. Looking back at it, the alternative was not an option because I wouldn't be here anymore." Bipolar disorder involves extreme mood swings, which Blumenthal says often fuelled his work. At times, his productivity felt "unstoppable". "The depression [gave] way to what I now recognise as periods of mania … with hindsight, when I was in a manic state, there were so many ideas," the chef, best known for his experimental dishes including snail porridge and bacon and egg ice cream, shared. He added: "I had these feelings of grandiosity or like Superman. I believed that I could change the world." It was during those periods that he developed some of his most daring and unconventional culinary ideas. But by 2020, the mood swings were becoming more frequent – and more severe. During the height of his career, the chef said he became "a hamster on a wheel," and self-medicated with cocaine. He explained: "I didn't realise I was self-medicating at the time ... The more time goes on since I've come out of the hospital, the more I can see how extreme those [manic episodes] were." Also in the documentary, Blumenthal revisits some of his past television appearances, offering a stark glimpse into his mental state at the time. Watching a 2019 episode of the cooking show Crazy Delicious, he recalled being in a "dark place." "I was probably quite overly depressed then," he said. "I thought, 'I wondered if there was a gun here, would I use it?' There wasn't, and then I thought of other ways of ending it and decided at the end that I wasn't ready for that." In sharp contrast, he also rewatched a 2020 BBC interview where he discussed using robots in the kitchen, speaking rapidly and using surreal metaphors throughout. The clip was difficult for him to watch. "To live with me, if I was talking like that all the time, that brings tears to my eyes, of the thought of what they had to put up with," he said. "The potential that I might have upset, troubled, worried, emotionally harmed the people that love me and that I love." The chef is a father of four: Jack, 32, Jessie, 30, and Joy, 28, from his first marriage to ex-wife Zanna; and Shea-Rose, eight, with his former partner, Stephanie Gouevia. In the documentary, he sits down with his son Jack to discuss what life was like before his bipolar diagnosis. "We just wanted a relaxing conversation with our dad, and we weren't able to have one. It was horrible and it was constant,' Jack recalled. "We'd plan it three weeks in advance, getting prepared just to see you for half an hour. And there was nothing I could do to help you." Heston wiped away a tear and apologised to his son. Jack, in turn, acknowledged that he now understands his father's behaviour was the result of an undiagnosed mental health condition. Blumenthal now serves as an official ambassador for Bipolar UK, a charity that estimates around 1.3 million adults in the UK live with the condition. In the documentary, he raises concerns about the lack of adequate support and resources for people living with bipolar disorder. At one point, he meets a mother whose daughter, Rebecca, died by suicide. "I was lucky in that with my sectioning, I was being monitored and afterwards I had support," he explained. "But with the nature of this condition, if there isn't the care, the support network around individuals with bipolar, then people like Rebecca will take their lives. The longer it takes to get this sorted out, the more lives will be lost." Blumenthal also admitted that he initially worried medication might dull his imagination or take away his creativity, fears that, he now says, were unfounded. He concluded: "I still have bipolar, and I had bipolar before, I just don't have those manic states. The peaks and my manic highs have shrunk and the depths of the lows have risen, but I'm still Heston." Read more about Heston Blumenthal: Heston Blumenthal's wife 'saved his life' by having him sectioned for bipolar disorder (Yahoo Life UK, 4-min read) Mood swings fuelled Heston Blumenthal's genius. But the highs got higher and the lows got darker (BBC News, 5-min read) Heston Blumenthal's 'unfiltered' story after life-changing diagnosis (Yorkshire Live, 2-min read)
Telegraph
15 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
From snail porridge to psychosis, Heston Blumenthal on the trauma of bipolar
In 2023, while at his home in France, Heston Blumenthal was sectioned. In Heston: My Life With Bipolar (BBC Two), a remarkably frank film in which the chef lays bare the workings of his mind, Blumenthal revisits this distressing event. But he doesn't just talk about it. Blumenthal plays himself in a reconstruction, acting out the moment he tried to fight off the policemen, doctor, and firemen who had been called there at his wife's request to take him to a psychiatric hospital. So this is not an ordinary documentary in which the director asks questions and the subject answers them. It is a deeply personal film made with some of the creativity that made Blumenthal famous. And it is based around a central question that preoccupies him: now that Blumenthal is on medication to damp down his manic highs – as well as saving him from the terrible lows which come with bipolar disorder – will that creativity desert him? It is an unusual focus in a programme about mental illness, but being unusual was what made Blumenthal a star in the first place. He was always a chef fizzing with ideas. Remember the bacon and egg ice cream, the snail porridge? Or the time he attempted to perfect the crispy skin on a Peking duck by using a petrol station tyre pump? In the film, he represents his 'kid in a sweet shop' mentality with a scene in which sweets rain down on his head. But by 2021, two years before his diagnosis, it was evident that something was very wrong. The film includes footage of a BBC interview in which, responding to a simple question, he launches into a mile-a-minute riff about the evolution of humanity. According to the programme, 1.3m people in the UK have bipolar disorder. It can take years to secure a diagnosis, and the care can be dangerously lacking; Blumenthal met Natalie, the mother of 22-year-old trainee paramedic Rebecca McLellan who died by suicide after failing to get the right support. He now has his condition under control, although the medication he takes has slowed his speech and he has a fragile air, no longer the swashbuckling chef. In the grip of a manic episode, Blumenthal believed he could communicate telepathically with his dog and solve the world's water crisis. His wife, Melanie Ceysson, felt compelled to have him sectioned after he began having hallucinations, believing there was a gun on the table in front of him. 'Bipolar had progressed to a point where I was a danger to myself before anyone raised the alarm,' he says now. 'Perhaps my reputation for energy and creativity made people less likely to question my manic highs.' There is no attempt to sugarcoat Blumenthal's story and the effect it has had on those around him. In perhaps the programme's most brutally honest moment, he sits down with Jack, one of his children. Jack says that dealing with their father could be horrible. 'We just wanted a relaxing conversation with our dad. You didn't want it. You didn't want to know anyone's thoughts,' Jack says. Was that entirely down to Blumenthal's illness? Top chefs are notoriously driven. But he is clearly in a better place now, and able to shine a light on the subject in a way that could be helpful to others.
Irish Times
15 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Heston: My Life with Bipolar: Gripping account of celebrity chef's journey from denial to diagnosis
In the UK , it is estimated that some 1.3 million people have bipolar disorder – more than have dementia. The statistics are presumably much the same in Ireland and yet the condition remains taboo and largely undiscussed. For that reason, it never occurred to celebrity chef Heston Blumenthal that he might have the disorder when he began to experience manic episodes several years ago. While he suspected he was neurodivergent, the word 'bipolar' never crossed his mind. How little he knew, he says in the gripping and gruelling Heston: My Life with Bipolar (BBC Two, Thursday 8pm) – until the episodes became severe, and in late 2023, he hallucinated that he had a gun. This was in France, where he lives with his wife, the French entrepreneur Melanie Ceysson. 'I was trying to fight my way out of it. Two people held my arms down,' he says. 'I was struggling a lot. Then I saw the doctor pull out this whacking great syringe.' Eighteen months later, Blumenthal is on a heavy regime of medication that has led to weight gain and resulted in his speech slowing down to a meditative not-quite-slur. He hasn't had any more of the extreme shifts in mood and energy that are a signature of bipolar disorder. And yet there this isn't quite a happy story with a happy ending. One of the themes of this fascinating and admirably honest film is his fear that the drugs that have stabilised his mind may have snuffed out the creativity that drove him in his early career. As foodies will know, Blumenthal was at the cutting edge of the cutting edge as proprietor of the Fat Duck restaurant in Bray (a village in Berkshire rather than the Irish seaside town, as I was disappointed to discover after many years of assuming Wicklow was at the white-hot frontline of gastronomic innovation). Snail porridge, bacon and egg ice cream – he was the master of the non sequitur menu. READ MORE Blumenthal had long suspected his brain was different. He compares the zing of inspiration to a drizzle of sweets pitter-pattering down on his head. In 2023, the downpour became a deluge, and he was overwhelmed. Looking back, it is obvious he was hurtling towards a crash. However, he had been too blinded by success to recognise the danger signs. 'I ended up becoming a hamster on a wheel. I self-medicated with cocaine. I didn't realise I was self-medicating at the time. I was absolutely self-medicating. I knew I had a busy head. I didn't know if it was more busy than other people's heads,' he says. 'I looked up if I was autistic. I didn't even think about bipolar.' In one painful scene, he is shown a TV interview he gave shortly before his breakdown. The journalist says hello, and Blumenthal, dialling in over Zoom, embarks on a 10-minute stream-of-consciousness monologue. It's as if every nerve ending in his brain is firing at once, and it's all coming straight out of his mouth. 'I want to put the inside-out back into the outside-in. I want to put the being back into the human,' he says. The interviewer smiles nervously. 'He's asked me one question,' says Blumenthal today. ''How are you? That's it.' A more self-involved celebrity would make it all about themselves. To his credit, Blumenthal moves on from his own struggles to address the failure of the British health service to meet the needs of those who are bipolar. He calls on the mother of Rebecca McLellan, a paramedic from Ipswich who died by suicide after being denied the medical care she required. In another moving scene, Blumenthal meets his son Jack, who talks about how difficult it was to be around his father. 'We'd plan it three weeks in advance, getting prepared just to see you for half an hour,' says Jack, who now runs his own restaurant. 'And there was nothing I could do to help you.' Blumenthal's face crumples, and he struggles to hold back tears. 'I'm sorry,' he says. It is one of many hugely emotive sequences in a documentary that bravely traces the chef's journey from denial to diagnosis. Its most significant achievement is that, just a few minutes in, the viewers begins to see Blumenthal not as a famous foodie in fancy spectacles – but a vulnerable individual who desperately needs support.
