This article is taken from the August-September 2024 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Right now we’re offering five issues for just £10.

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Hush, nepo baby

Noting the nephew’s eagerness to loudly celebrate the arrival of our new government, one couldn’t resist pointing out his own presently promising acting career may very well be frowned upon.

Having read in the Stage that our socialist administration was officially taking a fresh stand against “cultural nepotism” and “hereditary careers” in the arts, I felt obliged to warn the lad that, despite those very best attempts to sound like a resident of Hackney, biological ties to such an establishment-friendly theatrical figure as myself, not to mention the exorbitant cost of his (wasted) education, could soon come under the spotlight.

Seeing that cocky demeanour at last visibly ruffled, I gracefully departed — reassuring him we’d face such small-minded adversity together!

Though previously critical of McKellen’s decision to unfashionably don a fat suit for his Falstaff, one must now be grateful the great man was so thoroughly padded when tumbling off the Noël Coward stage. Let us give thanks for said undergarment, not to mention the extra cushioning provided by the comely lass Ian fell on in row A.

After a late-life crisis and looming divorce from third inappropriate wife prompted an old pal and co-star to open the doors of his French farmhouse over the summer months, I was soon questioning the wisdom of allowing so many elderly character actors under the same roof.

Listening to the self-congratulatory ramblings of two of our number from luncheon onwards, you’d be forgiven for imagining said pair’s “careers” had been unparalleled triumphs! One could only conclude the reality was far too painful to contemplate.

Mercifully escaping aforementioned holiday companions, a chance reunion during a day trip to Grasse has been an altogether more welcome development!

Almost 50 years since mutual “sparks” on the set of Jesus of Nazareth (about to fully flame before the ruthless intervention of Ian McShane), this still-dazzling widow and myself agreed to put her past betrayal behind us and seize happy fate with both hands.

Subsequent carefree weeks spent together embracing the French Riviera — not to mention the pleasure of her notably spacious residence — leaves one in no hurry to return to Starmer’s England.

Whilst her two humourless middle-aged offspring have since arrived on the scene to anxiously monitor proceedings, they should know their mother and I have plenty of pep in us yet!

For all those endeavours to find “common ground”, working relations with professional northerners prove increasingly tiresome.

Expected to laugh off “banter” at my expense from two young co-stars during a recent fortnight’s filming outside Windermere — not least when mocked over my classical command of the King’s English — one’s spirited attempt to join in the fun by highlighting comical aspects of their own precious dialects provoked a swift baring of teeth!

Political dramas

While newspaper commentators delight in identifying “out of touch” actors deemed to have embarrassed themselves during the recent election campaign, high time the tables were turned on these green-eyed monsters.

With dreary press folk obliged to spend their years obsessing over “issues” and “arguments” day in, day out, it naturally sticks in the craw whenever the modern-day celebrity thespian so assuredly takes to the political stage at a moment’s notice. 

Blessed with unswerving strength of conviction and bolstered, if not by pesky facts, then by all-important knowledge that a diverse circle of actor friends already agrees with them, such colourful champions of free speech should be treasured rather than ridiculed.

Worrying to see Mr Fry getting himself in such a pickle when a crowd-pleasing turn left him obliged to betray “beetroot-coloured” pals over at the MCC.

Harsher critics calling for his head would do well to remember that challenging circumstances have long forced this officially tortured soul to enjoy all manner of perks the silly old establishment offers on the one hand, whilst still duty-bound to lampoon them to the hoi polloi on the other. 

Try putting yourself in Stephen’s shoes! 

Fill her up, please

Sympathies to the flustered ladies running this year’s Edinburgh International and Fringe festivals, forced to defend funding from fossil fuel investment types.

Whilst condemnation will doubtless continue from the higher echelons of the acting trade (enter Dame Emma/Sir Mark!), complete with glamorously vague talk of “robust and ethical” financial alternatives, that less vocal majority of theatricals earning a crust in the Scottish capital still discreetly conform to the more pragmatic view. 

Though unlikely to be seen waving placards to the effect, barely giving two hoots about where the money’s from has been a rule of thumb for we travelling players since time immemorial.

None so blind … 

Initially meeting with nationwide sympathy, not to mention ghoulish media excitement, after suggesting being blind as a bat at 90 left her ready for retirement, Dame Judi reportedly “upsets” visually impaired performers.

“The last thing we need is one of the highest profile, superstar actors and national treasures saying publicly that blind people can’t be actors,” huffs their eagerly offended spokesman in an open letter to the star. This impertinent fellow demands Judi undo the damage by leading a company of similarly sightless players in a production of her choosing! 

Though not always wisely advised at the present time (the association with Brandreth a case in point), she must of course decline such crass publicity stunts with trademark grace. After the McKellen debacle, one ancient Dame falling off the stage is quite enough.

A brief word of advice to one’s young lady agent, after she apparently saw fit to tell a juvenile “joke” at this client’s expense when in the company of a gaggle of girls at Joe Allen’s. Suffice to say, said walls have ears. 

Having resolved to forego the joys of outdoor touring theatre this year after my forthright stance on the “mental health issues” of young cast members proved problematic in 2023, how concerning to learn one’s “replacement” is visibly struggling. 

After, I’m afraid, quite possibly lying about his age, it would appear this once thoroughly functional player has — if dispiriting reviews are to be believed — found these Shakespearean boots rather too big to fill!

Should a particularly demanding schedule allow between now and mid-September, it’s of course my every intention to supportively attend a performance by former co-stars, before heading backstage to reassure them just how very brave they’re all being.