There’s something about the late Spike
Milligan’s brand of mayhem that is nigh impossible to capture in a
stage portrait. A couple of years ago, comedian Michael Barrymore took
on the role in a bioplay in an effort to show that he had his own
demons back under control, but ended up only showing how necessary that
demonic edge is; before that, Roy Smiles’ Goons play
Ying Tong worked by dint of
engaging in a bonkers fantasia themed around one of Milligan’s
breakdowns. This adaptation of the first four volumes of his war
memoirs, alas, falls into the “tries too hard” category.
It is a good idea of adaptors Ben Power and Tim Carroll (who also
directs) to structure the evening as a concert party centred around
Gunner Milligan’s wartime jazz combo, interspersed with comments from
cutout figures of Hitler and Goebbels about the degeneracy of this
music. Unfortunately, the renditions here are far too buttoned-up to
suggest the hungered-for relief from military discipline. In addition
Sholto Morgan, making his professional stage début as Spike, is
simply inadequate as a trumpeter; they’ve cut his playing to a bare
minimum, but even so, it is obvious that he is up to the mark neither
of his fellows onstage nor of the original Milligan.
The same air of effortfulness hangs over the dramatic scenes. A raft of
classic Milligan gags are present and correct, right from his initial
apology for being months late for induction: “I’ll make up for it, sir,
I’ll fight nights as well!” But the gags, especially in Morgan’s
wide-eyed, slightly sing-song delivery, are pervaded by a
self-consciousness that handicaps them. I do not think we can blame
over-familiarity with the material; more likely, humour which was
subversive or almost literally anarchic in such a tightly structured
military context loses much of its transgressive power when it becomes
the point of the evening. Consequently, Milligan’s first breakdown from
battle fatigue also forms a less devastating contrast than it should.
Matthew Devereaux makes an entertaining batch of officer figures, by
dint of playing up the earnestness and letting the material itself
lampoon him. But overall, this production (which goes on to Hampstead
Theatre and a national tour) would scarcely make a Milligan virgin
understand why the man is so beloved.
Written for the Financial
Times.