Rick Russell

The only thing that makes you feel older than receiving the fellowship is presenting the fellowship. But here we are.

And so it is with tremendous pride, and slight accents, that we present this year’s FELLOWSHIP AWARD to RICK RUSSELL — founder of Final Cut and the best editor in the world, mathematically and morally speaking. We have absolutely no data to back that up, but if you disagree, we’ll see you in the bar after.

Rick is the editor’s editor. He is our whole steam-driven industry’s cheeky uncle and saucy second cousin. Rick is both James Bond and Bond villain. Scientist and rockstar. A giggly poet who didn’t know it.

Rick is the frame fiddler. The time stealer. The client whisperer. The classy alibi our industry has always sorely needed while benefiting from three decades of Rick’s stunning work.

As the founder of Final Cut, Rick built more than a company: he created a proving ground. A place where editors weren’t simply trained, but trusted — supported, encouraged, and given the confidence to step up.

Rick fostered a culture of supportive competition — a slightly dysfunctional family of people who care, perhaps a little too much, about the cut. He gives editors room to grow, space to find their voice, and the confidence to believe that editing could be both a career and a vocational dream come true.

Ours is a fantastic industry. Just look around. We’re lucky. We’re blessed. Pinch yourself, then pinch others. But every so often our industry feels just a little rubbish.

But… there’s always Rick. His wry smile. His steady hand. A champion of great work, who can turn turds into gold. Or at least into pewter.

And in an industry that can move people on too quickly — or burn them out once they arrive — Rick built something rarer: a sense of home and of family. His legacy isn’t just the work, but the editors — still cutting, still curious, still arguing over every last frame — who first learned how to do it properly at Final Cut.

Sometimes when you’re done with a shoot, everything feels dark and hopeless. You’ve really been through the wringer. You leave the rushes with Rick, then walk around Soho in the throes of existential angst thinking: we’ll never work again, before OD’ing on Portuguese custard tarts.

Then suddenly — PING — a text message! You brace yourself. Squint. And read: “I think we might have another humdinger on our hands. Pop in whenever you want.”

That feeling is better than sex. Although, these days, most feelings are.

Then you go in to see Rick and his focused face cracks open into the most wonderful smile.

And with Rick this is a fact: the more you stay away, the better the cut gets. Without fail. So off you go. Happy custard tarts this time!

Editing companies come and go. Expand and contract. Merge and submerge. Call themselves Snap. Crackle. Pop. Wallop. And we wish them all well.

But Final Cut is always there. A bedrock of craft and chaos. Fish & Chips Fridays and the true embodiment of work hard, play hard.

Many years ago, we christened him RICK OF THE ROOMS. And we don’t just mean the cutting rooms. The rooms in Final Cut. But the rooms in our industry that he effortlessly floats in and out of.

And, because we are a bit tipsy and soon to be very drunk, the rooms in our heart.

And tonight he is Rick of The Great Room — which is what Grosvenor House have called this place, not knowing that it would one day witness the crowning of King Rick of the Rooms.

Rick, you rock. There is nobody like you. And there never will be.

Congratufuckinglations on this year’s FELLOWSHIP AWARD.

Drinks on you!