Ken Dodd, Richmond Theatre | reviews, news & interviews
Ken Dodd, Richmond Theatre
Ken Dodd, Richmond Theatre
Comedy royalty gives a masterclass in stagecraft
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
This is the first gig I have attended where a sign at the door states: “First act - long. Second act - even longer”. So we have been warned, and as soon as Ken Dodd takes to the stage he refers to his (by now) legendary ultra-lengthy shows. “This evening will be a test of bladder strength,” he tells us, and proceeds to entertain almost non-stop for the next four hours (he has been known to do five or six).
Dodd certainly has extraordinary staying power. He’s 82 and celebrating 55 years in show business - and clearly still loves performing as much now as he did when he first started, as a ventriloquist. He’s one of the last of a generation who started in what remained of music halls and made their name in variety before moving into television, and were all but swept aside by the advent of alternative comedy in the 1980s. But while others (deservedly) withered away, Dodd kept on doing what he does brilliantly well and now still tours regularly; his latest show, Happiness, takes its title from one of his musical hits.
A friend of mine, a huge Dodd fan, had told me that when she used to see the comic as a child her parents would always buy tickets for the first show, as they knew he had to finish to let the second house in (still, though, often hours late). Twice-nightly shows are a thing of the past, of course, but that means Dodd now just starts earlier and finishes when the stage manager threatens to turn out the lights. But not once was I bored when Dodd was on stage and this show, while perhaps not reaching the peak of his younger years, is still a masterclass in the art of comedy and stagecraft.
Much of his act concerns what for his generation remains the eternal battle between the sexes, and relies on his audience sharing his buxom beauty/battle-axe wife/put-upon husband character shorthand. But there’s not an ounce of meanness in his jokes and for every few sexist stereotypes about women, he trumps them by aiming one straight at the men. “How many men does it take to change the toilet roll? Dunno, it’s never been done.”
Dodd is the butt of a lot of his material and repeated references are made to his love of money, his dislike of what he insists on calling the Inland Revenue and his past run-in with them. “They sent me a self-assessment form the other day. To me! I invented self-assessment.” Other anachronisms, such as OHMS and British Rail, get mentions, but Dodd also does bang-up-to-date stuff as well, here in a cracking joke about Toyota cars and a few good gags about MPs’ expenses. The audience are routinely insulted, but they love it. I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise that the majority of Dodd’s audience are past the first flush of youth, but they lap it up when he asks if they have all come from the same care home, or assures them there will be a Complan break. I was delighted to see, though, several youngsters in the audience and a few families where three generations had turned up together. Quality cuts across any age divide.
Even the hoariest old jokes are funny when Dodd tells them and the puns, word play and malapropisms - “She was wearing one of those sexy pink neglected things” - come in an unending stream. Just as you think he has delivered the punchline, another comes along - as many as four or five in each set-up. The old stager knows how to ingrate himself with the audience, too, as his stories all concern a Richmond man this, or a Kew woman that. Not once does he mention the Diddy Men or use one of the catchphrases - “How tickled I am” or “What a wonderful day for....” - so beloved of Ken Dodd impersonators. His tickling sticks (feather dusters to you and me) are in evidence but never referenced. There are some dodgy moments (a joke about Spanish gypsies comes perilously close to being racist) and the female “musical” act who opens the second half is astonishingly inept. So inept that I thought that any moment Dodd was going to come on and do some funnies to interrupt her routine. But then I remembered that his act is an irony-free zone and this was for real.
In my keenness to describe the sheer pleasure Dodd gives, I am in danger of carrying on myself. Did he overrun? Of course he did but, last trains home notwithstanding, the audience gave him a thoroughly deserved and lengthy standing ovation, as befits comedy royalty.
A friend of mine, a huge Dodd fan, had told me that when she used to see the comic as a child her parents would always buy tickets for the first show, as they knew he had to finish to let the second house in (still, though, often hours late). Twice-nightly shows are a thing of the past, of course, but that means Dodd now just starts earlier and finishes when the stage manager threatens to turn out the lights. But not once was I bored when Dodd was on stage and this show, while perhaps not reaching the peak of his younger years, is still a masterclass in the art of comedy and stagecraft.
Much of his act concerns what for his generation remains the eternal battle between the sexes, and relies on his audience sharing his buxom beauty/battle-axe wife/put-upon husband character shorthand. But there’s not an ounce of meanness in his jokes and for every few sexist stereotypes about women, he trumps them by aiming one straight at the men. “How many men does it take to change the toilet roll? Dunno, it’s never been done.”
Dodd is the butt of a lot of his material and repeated references are made to his love of money, his dislike of what he insists on calling the Inland Revenue and his past run-in with them. “They sent me a self-assessment form the other day. To me! I invented self-assessment.” Other anachronisms, such as OHMS and British Rail, get mentions, but Dodd also does bang-up-to-date stuff as well, here in a cracking joke about Toyota cars and a few good gags about MPs’ expenses. The audience are routinely insulted, but they love it. I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise that the majority of Dodd’s audience are past the first flush of youth, but they lap it up when he asks if they have all come from the same care home, or assures them there will be a Complan break. I was delighted to see, though, several youngsters in the audience and a few families where three generations had turned up together. Quality cuts across any age divide.
Even the hoariest old jokes are funny when Dodd tells them and the puns, word play and malapropisms - “She was wearing one of those sexy pink neglected things” - come in an unending stream. Just as you think he has delivered the punchline, another comes along - as many as four or five in each set-up. The old stager knows how to ingrate himself with the audience, too, as his stories all concern a Richmond man this, or a Kew woman that. Not once does he mention the Diddy Men or use one of the catchphrases - “How tickled I am” or “What a wonderful day for....” - so beloved of Ken Dodd impersonators. His tickling sticks (feather dusters to you and me) are in evidence but never referenced. There are some dodgy moments (a joke about Spanish gypsies comes perilously close to being racist) and the female “musical” act who opens the second half is astonishingly inept. So inept that I thought that any moment Dodd was going to come on and do some funnies to interrupt her routine. But then I remembered that his act is an irony-free zone and this was for real.
In my keenness to describe the sheer pleasure Dodd gives, I am in danger of carrying on myself. Did he overrun? Of course he did but, last trains home notwithstanding, the audience gave him a thoroughly deserved and lengthy standing ovation, as befits comedy royalty.
- Ken Dodd is at Richmond Theatre tonight and then touring until 19 December
- Find Ken Dodd on Amazon
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Yes Veronica, spot on! I saw