Kenneth Williams: Cult Figure

Colin Elmer used a casual quip by Kenneth Williams as a springboard for his one man show, a respectful and loving portrait of a performer we would be quick to call a national treasure these days. Williams was a troubled man, as his published diaries attest, but Elmer's resolute focus was on the performer with loving recreations of radio shows, theatrical anecdotes, and family reminiscences.
 
Things got off to a shaky start with an ill-advised prologue, featuring Elmer in a brown overall, sweeping the stage while chundering away to himself. Its purpose was lost on me, and on much of the audience, judging from the muted laughter, but once dispensed with, we soon settled in to watching an accomplished impression of Williams. In what was the most successful part of the show, Kenneth chatted amiably to his audience, taking us through his early life living above his Dad's barbershop, and then on to his time in the army.
 
Packed full of fourth-wall busting moments, Elmer was at his best when nimbly passing comment on the assembled, not least when some latecomers felt the lash of "Kenneth's" tongue. Always in character and always charmingly done, these proved to be the most authentic moments of the play. Less successful was his manoeuvres around Williams's sexuality while in active service. The performer was notoriously tight lipped about this time of his life - being gay was, after all, a crime - so Elmer was only being true to character in barely touching on the issue. Nevertheless, finding out things we didn't know, and William's didn't talk about, is surely why we turned up to the Playhouse. In the end, we were practically half way through our two hour marathon when the emotional mask finally slipped and we got to see the impact of Kenneth Horne. Notwithstanding Elmer's considerable skill as a mimic there was an emotional truth to this part of the show that easily trumped his extended re-enactments of various radio shows.
 
Sadly, it was a fleeting moment, as Elmer returned to the reminiscence that Williams favoured in his chat show days. In the second half of the night, a curious symmetry developed, as increasingly meandering anecdotes mirrored William's failure to secure a role for himself in later life. In a show that can best be described as thorough when it came to an exposition of his early life, great chunks were glossed over. The Carry-on films did get a mention, but relatively briefly, while his key contribution to Jackanory was ignored. Most obviously absent, however, was any mention of his mother – a strange omission given the closeness they shared. I think Elmer would argue that the evening was presented as Williams would have constructed it, and as such was guarded where the man himself would have been guarded. Certainly, I've seen enough plays cribbed from the pages of Wikipedia to appreciate how dreary a linear biography can be. Nonetheless, Williams was a complex and haunted man, and without that dimension to the play, it felt ultimately unsatisfying.
 
In fairness, we nearly got there in the closing fifteen minutes. It took a crashing gear change from Elmer, but from the moment he picked up and read through William's diary, we became privy to an altogether darker, and dramatically more interesting, man. I got the sense that Elmer is very aware of the contradictory nature of a performer he clearly admires, but has warily avoided presenting that contradiction to his audience, presuming we just want a fun night out. Instead, he has created an evening of celebration and gentle amusement, and what he imagines the punters what from him. He may well have a point – the audience I was with certainly enjoyed themselves, chuckling along in all the right places. It was surely significant, however, that the same audience fell silent during those rare moments of painful revelation, and in a way that suggested they were all too willing to go with him into darker territory. Ultimately, the play felt like an opportunity missed.