One of the great things about being retired is having no set bedtime. The downside is that sometimes you need a midafternoon nap to compensate. Not so convenient when you've arranged a trip to a matinee performance at the theatre.
We'd dined at Miller & Carter for lunch: three courses for £22.95, meaning my stomach was comfortably full prior to the show. Thanks to my twinging back and the summer heat, the toddle up to the theatre was hard going. Still, we arrived in plenty of time to join the audience of other retirees (and occasional young person) prepped for an afternoon of laughs, nostalgia and melancholy.
The running time notice indicated the play was in two acts with a twenty-minute interval. We settled into our seats in row K of the stalls and discovered we had no one sitting directly in front of us in row J or H. That's not to say the place was empty (far from it); rather, in these cost-conscious times, our filled row was cheaper.
The safety curtain hadn't been lowered, so we could see the stage set: a dingy, backstage theatre dressing room containing three lightbulb-wreathed dressing tables that harked back not to the music hall glory days but an age afterwards when the greats were all but forgotten. The dirty, smoke-stained walls are adorned with tired-looking billboard posters and framed, black-and-white photographs of vintage comics, including those of Tony Hancock, Arthur Askey, and Sid James. A rectangular, dirt-surrounded space indicates that one frame is missing.
The old-school tunes playing in the background are from that era when the radio was known as the wireless, a deliberate musical choice to set the scene.
Then the lights around the mirrors flicker. A voice over the crackly stage tannoy informs the absent performers that the show is due to start. Then all goes dark, both on stage and in the room.
When the stage lights come back on, Tommy Cooper stands before us, centre stage, in his fez and underwear, and a pair of giant chicken feet. Cue the first laugh, a sight gag befitting the comic's legacy. Tommy was notorious for making people laugh without saying a word.
The show is about a fictional meeting where the three comedy greats (Tommy Cooper, Bob Monkhouse and Eric Morecombe) share a dressing room. Each actor nails their performance, bringing to life the three distinctive comedians (especially Bob Monkhouse, whose voice and mannerisms are spot on), helped by a script full of their famous lines and routines. The play also delves into what motivates the comedians and questions what it means to be funny, each one coming up with their own unique take on the answer.
It's a joyous play to watch, especially if you remember the comedians. The ending packs an emotional punch when the missing picture frame is replaced and we see whose image it contains. Be aware, there is no Act Two. The section after the interval is a Q&A session with the actors and the cover (or understudy, as the role was formerly known). I enjoyed this bit too,
as it provided some insight into how long the actors have played these roles individually, before this play was even written, having performed in their own one-man shows about their comedians. It was lovely to know the families of the three deceased comedians have given their blessing to the show.
So, why did I mention all that stuff at the beginning about late nights, mid-afternoon naps, and being full? Did I fall asleep? No, but I did come close. I suffered early on from what I like to call Heavy Eyelid Syndrome. That's not to besmirch the show in any way. It is a fabulous work that deserves a broader audience.
I liked it so much I bought both the producer's programme and the smaller house version, not realising the latter was the same as the former in terms of text, just missing the big photographs. That was some clever upselling from the kiosk girl, making me think I was getting a bargain, £4 less if you buy them both.
If you are old enough to remember these performers, go see this play. You will not be disappointed. If you don't know who they are, go for a laugh anyway. You'll still enjoy it.
https://thelastlaughplay.co.uk/
Ticket Price: Stalls Row K £31.50 x 2 plus £3.95 Transaction Fee = £66.95
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