“There are laughs aplenty in this show, but the problems the two men faced in their personal and professional lives provide a strong undercurrent of tragedy and pathos. “
Editorial Rating: 4 Stars (Nae Bad)
To draw a full house for a late morning show on the first Sunday of the Fringe bodes well for any show up here. Is it the pulling power of a performer with a successful TV career behind him, or the familiarity of the eponymous subject? Either way, ex-sitcom star Jeffrey Holland (Hi-De-Hi, You Rang, M’Lord) drew a round of applause upon his entrance as well as at the end of this entertaining one-man show in the Pleasance Courtyard Upstairs.
Set in the bedroom of a very ill and silent Oliver Hardy in the 1950s, this tragi-comic drama shows us Stan Laurel’s last visit to see his dying former screen partner. Perhaps wisely, Holland avoids a constant tribute-act impersonation of Laurel, preferring to rely for most of the performance on a more relaxed off-screen version of the legendary comedian’s persona. However, there are regular short episodes where, donning a bowler hat, Holland enacts memorable exchanges from their most successful films; and here we get a fine impression of Laurel’s absurd comic gravitas, along with Ollie’s frustratedly blustering replies.
There are laughs aplenty in this show, but the problems the two men faced in their personal and professional lives provide a strong undercurrent of tragedy and pathos. With Ollie struck dumb by a crippling stroke, it’s left to Stan to look back on the triumphs and frustrations of their Hollywood career. As anyone familiar with their work knows, those short films from their heyday in the 1930s usually portray the couple as a pair of bums down on their luck and trying to make a dime in the Depression-era USA. It’s sad to note that the reality of Hollywood at the time meant that, despite their huge success, the two actors received only comfortable salaries, rather than the mind-boggling fees that stars expect today. Laurel in particular should have been a millionaire as the scriptwriter of their immortal routines. At several points Holland breaks down to portray what must have been very a real frustration felt by Laurel upon realising how he’d been ruthlessly exploited and fleeced by the studio system of the day. As this play suggests, the familiar trope of the melancholy behind the comic mask is very real – Tears of a Clown, indeed.
As is also quite well known, both men had chequered personal lives involving multiple and often disastrous marriages. This introduces more light and shade, with Holland movingly contrasting happy memories of love and romance, soon clouded over by the dark shadows of some messy divorces. Was there even a hint of mutual resentment between the two? Though a passive stooge on screen, Laurel was the leader behind the scenes, slaving at his typewriter and thrashing out deals with the studios whilst “Babe” (Ollie) spent his days on the golf course.
This already popular how runs until the end of the month, so get your coats on and go see it! Go to see a telly star play a film star. Stay to laugh at the jokes then cry along with Stan’s tears. Leave with the thought that screen laughter is often dearly bought by those whose lives are devoted to entertaining us.
Get Your Coats On 
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