I watched a couple of episodes of Some Mothers Do ‘Ave Em’ last night to refresh my memory; one being the very first episode whereupon the endlessly hapless Frank Spencer is interviewed to be a sales manager with typical disastrous consequences. His ever-sympathetic wife, Betty, waits anxiously for him to finish in the hope he’s finally secured employment. His less than understanding mother-in-law is equally ready to roll her eyes, expecting another predictable fail. I was a little bored to start with; todays various comedies have all sorts of subtleties and nuance but watching the opening first few minutes of Betty and her mother conversing in their kitchen felt quite dated and starchy. Yes, it looked easy enough to replicate, but apart for sentimental value for those who persistently refer to ‘back in the day’, I wasn’t really sure who else this would appeal to.
And then Michael Crawford appeared and began to churn out one of the most highly regarded comedic performances to date; his funny bones rattled and roared throughout, and I wondered who would/could take on a character like Frank Spencer and be able to look himself in the mirror the next morning with any self-respect (providing its still hanging on the wall) ‘It’s a brave lot who takes a classic like this on’ I thought. But then of course enter the ever-triumphant Little Theatre Company, who, tonight, spend the next couple of hours just generally being enviably marvellous.
Tonight’s performance is tremendous, and for a company celebrating their 40th anniversary, they couldn’t have aimed for anything less.
Guy Unsworth (associate Director of Spamalot in 2013) created the stage version of this favourite TV comedy, specifically designed for Joe Pasquale to star. Original screen writer, Raymond Allen gave his blessing and immediate success ensued (though Pasquale never quite mastered that voice over his own trademark sound)
It’s a straightforward plot: the walking accident, Frank Spencer, and his beloved Betty are hosting dinner for Betty’s mum and gentleman friend on the same night they learn the BBC is interested in Frank as a potential new star in the world of magic (his latest fruitless venture). The Beeb send round a duo to interview the couple, and with Betty’s additional happy news, whimsical farce of cataclysmic proportions develops.
The small cast of six have a hell of a lot to do in a very small space, which in itself is unbelievably impressive. The set, a perfect bellowing beacon of unsightly 70’s orange and brown serves as a madhouse of explosions and disasters. Director, John Bowness, masters every inch of calamity, rendering the hilarious crescendos spontaneous and thrilling. Our Frank Spencer rips through the set unapologetically as the others expertly deal with the aftermath of every bang, boom and flash.
Leon Ratcliffe as Frank Spencer is immediately spellbinding, and I marvel at the skill behind his interpretation. He must know as he waits off-stage that we’re all waiting for it: not just the beret and raincoat, but that specific disposition, the awkwardness, the vernacular – Ratcliffe nails it and never puts a foot on the brake. I feel the audience instantly relax into the onslaught of comedy and watch the mannerisms of the childlike Spencer performed with staggering accuracy; every inflection proving what a persuasive performer Ratcliffe is.
Betty, thank God, isn’t nearly as whiney as I (apologetically) admit I find original actress, Michele Dotrice, to be. Our Betty is played by a graceful Hannah Kirkpatrick. A constant source of perspective and compassion, I have to wonder if a 2024 Betty would have long jumped ship and swiped left? But, alas, 1973 marriages were slightly more iron clad, and Kirkpatrick’s endless optimism – though encased in some lovely, feminine dresses – is indicative of the grit and tenacity it takes to keep this marriage on the tracks.
Vicky Fryer plays Betty’s mum, Barbara Fisher: a vivacious hourglass of bubbles, fizz and finesse. Terrific at portraying tipsy and turbulent, Fryer (at times a bit of a scene stealer) is every bit the 70’s matriarch applying additional stress and responsibility to our poor Betty. She’s car crash waiting to happen and we’re all here for it.
Phil Robinson and Joel Kirkpatrick both have dual roles and are effortless in their precision and comic timing. As is Pete Banton as the friendly Father O’Hara, who provides the perfect upstanding member of the community that offers the frayed, nonetheless constant support despite Frank’s perpetual self-inflicted misfortunes.
My favourite aspect of Frank Spencer is his often bewilderment at others’ bewilderment of him. He’s sort of unapologetic and extremely hesitant to accept responsibility for any of his uniquely crafted disasters. And I think that’s where LTC prove so adept tonight, because we don’t feel sorry for Frank, nor do we find him irritating – and that’s why it’s so successful. The glorious talent on display tonight means if anything, we want him to do worse, fail harder – he never stops trying and is somewhat of an anomaly to enjoy, not endure.
As lovely as tonight is, the passing of LTC’s Peter Clemson, BEM is felt. Chair and founding member, the irrefutable passion of their very much missed fearless leader and mentor is captured, embraced and celebrated – his legacy most certainly implacable.
If you can (if there are any tickets left) pop along and see for yourself. The LTC regularly produce an array of beauties: musicals, comedies, dramas; and in a world where everything on TV can be paused, binged and shelved for when you can make the time, amateur theatrical performances like this are rare and very much for the here and now. Some mothers certainly do ‘ave em’.
Cheers to all involved – chuffing brilliant!
