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| Photo Helen Drum. |
"One Man, Two Guv'nors" by Richard Bean, (after
Carlo Goldini's"The Servant of Two Masters") directed by Chris
Baldock for Canberra REP, at Theatre 3 Acton, until December 2. Reviewed by Phillip Mackenzie.
HOW does one review a
play as funny as this, with a plot as improbable as this, performed by a cast
as skilled as this, under the direction of one as wily as Chris Baldock, with
one of the best sets seen on Theatre 3 stage in a long time?
A play in which not one comedic cliché is left unturned, in
which each joke is followed so closely by the next that one scarcely has time
to catch breath?
Basically, the title is the plot – by Richard Bean, out of
Carlo Goldini. As far as I could make out from the tsunami of inevitable
cock-ups drawn from the traditions of commedia dell'arte, vaudeville, old-time
music hall, burlesque, any number of BBC radio series of the '40s and '50s,
busty postcards from Butlins’ holiday camps at Brighton, the Goons, skiffle
bands and The Beatles, Francis Henshaw (Arran McKenna) is on his uppers, will
do and eat anything to stave of death by starvation, finds himself suddenly in
the paid employ of not one, but two crooks on the same patch. While this is an
economic windfall for Henshaw, if his doppelganging becomes known to either,
he's for the high jump. He is surrounded by such a plethora of mistaken
identities, crazy mates, winsome ladies, ex-cons and mad waiters that there is
little point in trying to follow the plot – just sit back and lap up the fun
or, if you happen to be sitting at the end of your row, be prepared to be
shanghai'd into the action at the drop of McKenna's whim.
Every individual in the cast deserves a mighty rap, but space
limits me to book-ending acting/performance credits to Arran McKenna's mastery
of the mountainous role of Henshaw, hilariously in perpetual motion and Michael
Cooper's dangerously ludicrous 100-year old trainee waiter who has almost
nothing to do with what remains of the plot, so long as he can stay on his
febrile feet.
The set is ingenious and marvellously dominated by the
portrait of Her Gracious Majesty (perfect to the querulous cast of the eye) and
the revolving centre produces an amazing range of other settings; the three-piece skiffle band, occasionally
augmented by cast members of various musical skills to cover set changes reminds
us of the a time when Britain was almost great again.
For me, the old BBC catch-line “Yer can't help larfin', 'cos
it makes yer larf” springs to mind. Go see it for yourself.