Theatre and Dance Reviews

Opening nights are always nervous occasions. Cast and back-stage crew enter their own private reverie of furrowed brows and mumbled internal rehearsals. Producers dash around, frantically ensuring all items of the on-stage set are in their correct, easy-to-find places, and all the required coloured pieces of sticky tape are on the stage floor, telling the actors where they need to stand. There is, in short, a heightened sense of thespian tension.

Peter Martin as Captain Mainwaring

It’s hard enough when it’s the opening of a little-known, tiny budgeted production. But trying to recreate the evergreen BBC sitcom Dad’s Army on-stage in front of 500 enthusiasts, who know some of the lines from the TV series and all the words of the World War II warbled songs, carries with it an added pressure and further complications. Just how do you replicate Arthur Lowe’s superb comic timing, world-weary exhale and tired, frustrated rubbing of the eyes? Or John le Mesurier’s laconic, subversive observations of the limitations of Walmington-on-Sea’s Home Guard unit? Or Corporal Jones’ infectious, though physically limited, enthusiasm? And to do it all on stage, with the intimacy afforded by television removed? The obvious answer is, of course, you can’t. So you opt to replicate some aspects of the original characters, while making other things your own. There’s really no alternative.

Before the curtain rose, there could be spied the legendary Jimmy Perry OBE in the audience. Perry co-wrote the original series, broadcast between 1968 and 1977; his honour presumably bestowed for services to Classic British Comedy. Enquiries made later revealed six tickets reserved for the co-creator, David Croft OBE. So the pair were there for the first stage reincarnation in Britain since most of the original cast undertook a tour in 1975.

The curtain didn’t exactly rise - as there was no curtain - but rather like in the cinema the lights faded down and then up, and Britain’s last line of defence marched on stage to audible grins and a smattering of applause. Peter Martin, a former engineering apprentice turned terrific performer in Emmerdale and The Royle Family, led his troops. Wilson, played by David Warwick, didn’t so much march on as lope. Jones, keen as ever, bounded about keeping the rest of the motley crew in check. And Leslie Grantham, probably the most famous member of the cast from his time playing Den Watts in Eastenders, was clearly identifiable as the spiv Private Walker, moustachioed and smoking. Walmington-on-Sea’s plucky soldiers had successfully been brought back to life.

The premise of the show was the retelling of two “missing episodes” from March 1969: “A Stripe for Frazer” and “Loneliness of the Long-Distance Walker.” Lost along with four others since found and re-broadcast, this was their first performance for audiences since their original airings over 30 years ago. With the VCR yet to be invented, it’s thanks to Croft and Perry’s script archive that the show’s producer, Ed O’Driscoll, had anything to stage. Both were typical, classic episodes of Dad’s Army at its best, and a first half slightly lacking in energy was nonetheless an enjoyable hour well spent.

Eavesdropping at the bar during the interval, many were voicing concerns over the speed of delivery of the actors. Most of this can be dismissed as an opening night issue – actors not completely versed in their own lines and those of others tend to pause to make sure they get the delivery right. Later in the run, after the play has been done many times, lines will be delivered almost unconsciously, allowing performers to concentrate on just that: performing. First nights are often plodding affairs, but this was made worse by the staging. Dad’s Army is at the best of times somewhat static, with the platoon standing to attention in lines. On TV this problem can be overcome by using the camera to focus on close-ups on shots of just two interacting characters. On stage, from the back of the theatre, the broad impression was of three rows of old grey men in khaki. Not riveting stuff. The directors, producers and more senior members of the cast need to come together to solve this problem, as it hamstrung the show.

The tv cast of Dad's Army

After the interval we watched two further classic episodes, including “The Deadly Attachment” which contains the ever-funny “Don’t tell him, Pike!” moment, delivered by Martin facing the audience with both eyebrows raised: unsubtle, but well-timed and funny enough. Sadly, that cannot be said for most of the second half. The problems with pace eventually swamped the entire production, which by the end had lost almost all sense of momentum and so, unforgivably, had bored the audience. Worse, actors had visibly tired. We limped to a finish, when it should have been a climax. Audience members went home unsatisfied, which was such a shame after a decent first half.

I could stop the review here, but that would be unfair. There were several plus points: David Warwick’s Sergeant Wilson was an uncanny impression of John le Mesurier, and showed how central his character is to the whole show. Lesley Grantham’s slapstick as Walker was cracking, and just what you’d expect from a classically trained actor. Peter Martin’s Mainwaring was slightly quiet and much nicer than Lowe’s; an interesting interpretation of a sensitive character.

The 1975 stage revue show contained most of the original cast members and toured the country. It was a mixture of short, hilarious sketches from various episodes, interspersed with individual, out-of-character turns from the actors. Dad’s Army: The Missing Episodes should be just that, at least in the second half. Peter Martin can sing beautifully, so should appear on stage and perform some period sing-a-longs which everyone can join in. Warwick and Grantham should be called upon to perform individually, interspersed with the whole cast performing highlights from across the series. At present, the finale feels like something you’ll encounter on UKTV Gold if you stay watching long enough. Dad’s Army is a mine of wonderful comedy. This show needs to extract some of the nuggets and put them on stage.

The message to the cast and crew, in true Jones style is as follows: “Don’t Panic!” The run’s only just begun, and you’re putting on a wonderful comedy.

Dad’s Army: The Missing Episodes returns to Beds, Herts and Bucks when it plays at the Wycombe Swan on October 29.