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Gavin Spokes as Francis with his two guvnors, Rachel, Alicia Davies and Stanley, Patrick Warner Pictures: Hugo Glendinning One Man, Two Guvnors
Birmingham Hippodrome
***** WE have a penchant for the loony end of
humour, the plain daft, the congenitally silly, the ridiculously
eccentric; how else do you explain the Goons, Monty Python, Black Adder,
Fawlty Towers or that most British example of theatrical barminess, the
pantomime. One Man Two Guvnors is now an established part of
that glorious tradition, a play of pure, unadulterated lunacy. Richard Bean’s script, based on Carlo Goldoni’s
The Servant of Two
Incidentally, the pub also featured heavily in
Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock. The plot, and yes there is one, is simple with
Francis Henshall, played by Gavin Spokes, a mindless minder, finding
himself employed by two bosses, Rachel, played by Alicia Davies, a young
woman disguised as her gangster, and very dead, twin brother and
Stanley, played by Patrick Warner, her lover and gold plated, public
school upper class twit of the year contender, who killed her brother
and is now in hiding in Brighton.
Stanley knows nothing of the cross dressing and
neither knows about the whereabouts of the other so throw in a dodgy
solicitor in the rather rotund shape of Harry Dangle, played by David
Verrey, an even dodgier scrap dealer in the form of intellectually
challenged, as in as a plank, Charlie “the Duck” Clench, played by
EastEnders’ Shaun Williamson, and Charlie’s daughter Pauline, played by
Jasmyn Banks, who makes Charlie look genius level and who was due to
marry Rachel’s dead brother Roscoe in a less than kosher deal to hide
his homosexuality . . . and the propensity for confusion and chaos
increases at an alarming rate. Then as the audience gets its head around that
lot we have Alan Dangle, played theatrically by Edward Hancock, son of
dodgy Harry, who wants to be and believes he is an . . . act-tore and
could not sneeze without turning it into a dramatic Shakespearean
soliloquy full of waving arms and ham. He is in love with Pauline and was free to marry
her again when her betrothed left to meet his maker – that is until the
dead gangster in the form of Rachel reappears. And then, for no apparent
reason, we have northern Dolly, played by Emma Barton, who works for
Charlie, all push up bra and beehive hair do, who is the love interest
for Francis - remember him? – as well as Lloyd, played by Derek Elroy,
Charlie’s mate, as in cell, who now runs The Cricketers after graduating
as a chef, at her majesty’s pleasure, from Parkhurst. Add in an excellent four piece neatly suited band
– cum – skiffle group, complete with washboard, The Craze, who could be
time travellers from the early 60s, who entertain the audience before
the show,during the interval, and to cover scene changes, with guests
from the cast – Francis on vibes, Stanley on car horns, Lloyd on steel
drum and so on – and you know this is a play like no other. But as the brilliant Gavin Spokes tells an
audience member after a discussion about sandwiches, which has nothing
to do with the script, plot or anything else “This is a National Theatre
Production . . . not a pantomime!”. Well the first part was right, but
as for the rest . . . To get so much chaos into a show with so much
The meal scene when Francis is trying to serve
his two masters in opposite rooms in The Cricketers with neither knowing
he is there is a comic gem, with the 83-year-old, shaky, deaf waiter
Alfie, running on batteries from his pacemaker, and wonderfully played
by Michael Dylan, only adding to the mayhem. And when Francis drags up some poor soul from the
audience – two more had been dragged up earlier to help move luggage –
pandemonium is guaranteed.
Dylan has the ability to look like the living
dead, bend backwards at 90 degrees, slide down walls and even manages to
be laid low by a full bloodied straight drive to the chin from a cricket
bat by Stanley. The timing on that one to make it look realistic has to
be perfect . . . either that or you will get through an awful lot of
Alfies. It is a very physical play, there is a scene
where Francis has an argument with himself that develops into a fight
rolling around the stage which has to be exhausing,and that after going
over the back of a chair trying to catch sweets thrown in the air, and
there are plenty of punches and kicks among the dangly bits to make
every gent in the audience wince at times. Above all though, it is glorious, unbridled fun.
You don’t need to think or analyse - even a reasonably bright house
brick can follow what is going on - you just sit back and laugh, or
wince or even groan as Frances, with no money and Olympic standard
hunger pangs, mixes his own drink. Don’t be fooled though. It might be as mad as a
whole street of hatters, but it is also a magnificent piece of theatre
with some lovely touches - the women dragged from the audience and left
a wreck, banging into the door as she is led off, for example - and it
is a production which is remarkably clever in its execution demanding
split second timing from its superb cast from ensemble to stars. The original production was directed by Nicholas
Hytner and choreographer Adam Penford has taken over directing duties
for the tour with credit due as well to Cal McCrystal the physical
comedy director as well as Mark Thompson for his effective simple sets
ranging from The Lanes in Brighton to the pier, the Clench house and The
Cricketers dining rooms. If laughter really was the best medicine then
this show could cure anything and you would never be ill again. To
31-05-14. Roger Clarke
26-05-14
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Masters
– itself a very funny play – is set in Brighton in the 1960s and must
have worked wonders for The Cricketers pub in the Lanes in Brighton
where much of the play is set.
violent
slapstick needs incredible timing which in turn takes endless rehearsal.