19 – 21 March
Arnold Ridley, one of the much-loved stalwarts of the much-loved television series, Dad’s Army, is the subject of this powerful play written as a clear labour of love by Ridley’s son, Nicholas. The text is taut, efficient and abounds with memorably ironic phrases, such as theatre as an ‘outpost of Satan’, or a person being too young ‘to regret not being maimed’, or the ‘needle of shrapnel’ that casually takes the life of one of Ridley’s wartime comrades. The greatest irony of all is the fact that the gentle, unassuming Private Godfrey of the screen was in reality a decorated and horrifically wounded veteran of two world wars.
In the space of about two hours, we are taken through Ridley’s colourful topsy-turvy life of military service, unspectacular early acting career, failed amour, and later of accomplishments as a writer of some distinction. In the title role, Mansel David has the mammoth task of narrating and acting out Ridley’s life. Small wonder that there were occasional lapses of memory, often smoothly dealt with by an exceptional supporting cast (Samantha Parry, Joe Sargent, Jaymes Sygrove and Laura Fitzpatrick). Between them they portray a dizzying array of detailed character cameos (cockney dad, mystified mum, supportive wife, jumped-up military martinet, sniffy supercilious producer, slick-talking agent, starstruck fans, exasperated bank manager, and even a much baffled postman) carrying forward the juggernaut of one man’s courageous, often defiant, tilt at all the vicissitudes of life that threatened disaster at almost every turn.
Far from a bumbling, likeable old duffer, Mansel David’s portrayal of Arnold Ridley often comes across as a man of quiet and steely determination, although shot through with bitterness, anger and a pessimism that sometimes sits uncomfortably with the fact that Ridley did not wallow in self-pity for long. There were impressive outbursts of rage as when Ridley berates a producer for – as he saw it – ruining one of his plays. But perhaps because the audience were unnervingly close and highly visible, David seemed to shy away from direct engagement and was somewhat blurred gesturally: a vague hand flutter here and there, sudden wide-eyed eyebrow raising (oddly reminiscent of Frankie Howerd) and some aimless shuffling about with abrupt stops and turns that might have been deliberate afterthoughts or suddenly remembered ends of lines. Similarly, his speech delivery was at times stilted, tending to end sentences on a falling tone of world-weary disillusionment that belied Arnold Ridley’s demonstrable ability to pick himself up after every mishap and soldier on until finally reaching his twilit stardom as Private Godfrey.
Overall, the play held its mostly silver-haired audience’s rapt attention until the very end. Marcus Reddington’s intelligent and flexible design allows the actors to transform the intimate space with little more than a quick repositioning of chairs. Having the audience on three sides added a palpable sense of physical depth and texture than is possible with a conventional end-on proscenium arch stage. Alexandra Kataifida’s lighting and sound design provides dramatic focus and powerful ambience, particularly in the war episodes. Graham Pountney’s direction is sure-footed, with a strong sense of rhythm necessary to sustain the onward rush of events and characters swirling around the protagonist. Occasionally, the actors might have reined in some of their reactions and trusted in stillness to make the emotional point. For example, the very affecting ending did not need pulse-checking and a sad shake of the head, however small, which unnecessarily distracted from the reality of a life lived to the full making its final quietus.
★★★☆. Peter Jordan, 21 March 2026
Photography credit: Charlie Matters
