It has always been relatively easy to be disappointed when ‘celebrities’ turn to the stage and pull in adoring punters all too willing to gawp at a favourite television personality, often not quite up to the task. So let me say from the start that this curious pairing is one that does not disappoint and has the makings, once settled in, of being a rather fine outing of Ronald Harwood’s touching paean to the lost generation of actor-managers. Mr.Kelly, of course is not a celeb in the usual sense; his sojourn as TV compère was (and remains) a mere hiatus in an otherwise distinguished career as an actor, so seasoned theatre goers will not be surprised by his detailed and touching portrayal of decay and disintegration. I speak of the decay not just of the man, but also a way of life that, through many generations prior to the age of mass media, brought culture, with a capital ‘C’, to the nation by relentlessly touring ‘the provinces’.

There is a sense throughout the play that something is coming to an end, that when this Titan of the theatre – based loosely on the career of Donald Wolfit – has passed he will have taken something irreplaceable with him. In that sense we can draw parallels with Osborne’s, The Entertainer, which did for the music hall what Harwood has done for the actor-manager. Where Osborne marks the end of an empire, Harwood marks the fading of a culture with a sense of regret and inevitability. ‘I’m a spent force, my days are numbered,’ says Sir, with a sense of loss that hints beyond the particular. Mr.Kelly, with a weary and reluctant releasing of his grasp on greatness gives us a man of once towering stature on the cusp of his penultimate act, ‘Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon’.

Perhaps more of a revelation is the performance of Julian Clary. There is little hint here of the waspish tongue and outrageous campery of his standup persona with which we are more familiar. Looking equally suited for the carpenter’s workshop or the potting shed he brings a delicate exactitude that springs from caring, a dedication to the job of service no less important to Sir than the latter is to his art. It is the absence of recognition for that service in the dedicatory lines of Sir’s unwritten autobiography that causes his outburst on Sir’s death. We are all the leading players in our own life’s journey and rather like the apocryphal janitor at NASA who when asked what he was doing answered, ’Helping to put a man on the moon’, we are rightly put out when not recognized for our contribution.

Fine performances throughout and in particular the selfless and perceptive contributions of the two main characters make this a worthy reason to don your mask and get back into the theatre.    ★★★★☆    Graham Wyles at Bath Theatre Royal on  15^th September 2021