Al Murray’s Pub Landlord has always been a troublesome prospect for audiences and critics alike. The character’s unreformed, pompous opinions on all aspects of British life have been widely accepted as satirical caricature, but he never quite escaped suspicions that his audience didn’t get the joke. Having never caught The Pub Landlord live, I was unsure about how Murray’s creation would come across over the course of a full-length show.
Murray arrives on stage after a quick intro that apes the scrawl of Star Wars and acts as a rallying cry in these uncertain times in our nation’s history. The set is only a beer tap on a wooden plinth which is immediately put to chaotic use as Murray pumps out a frothy pint, spilling it all over the stage floor and then, as he acknowledges the cheers from the crowd, spills it all over the delighted front row. The Pub Landlord quickly embarks upon tonight’s subject; ‘Brexit’ which, let’s face it, if you know the Landlord’s schtick, you wouldn’t want his show to be about anything else. The show’s premise is that he is looking to Salford and “The Great British public” to sort out the mess that Brexit is in. Because the vote has already taken place and the outcome decided, he promises not to take sides between those that voted to leave and those (… and here Murray launches into frothing expletive-laden abuse of) “judases” that voted remain. Wow this guy swears!! And it is a joy to behold.
The delivery is fast, direct and weaves ideas with complexity. The rhythm of his delivery is reminiscent of Harry Hill, a former collaborator, with some ticks, repetitions and outbursts forming a steady tempo to the routines, but he doesn’t overlap routines in the same way as Hill did. He covers many topics such as Prince Harry, the war, politics and political correctness, but all are formed in the shade of the Brexit cloud that hangs above everything.
The first half of the show sees The Pub Landlord riffing with the front rows like a club comedian. I have always felt unease when audience involvement begins in a comic’s routine because it legitimises hecklers, makes Johnny Public think they’re as funny as a professional comedian and exposes the comedian’s own lack of prepared material. However, this is Al Murray’s act and always has been, so the audience interaction is what we’ve paid for. Murray is at ease with the audience and builds running jokes and call-backs through those he meets on the front rows. The patriarchal publican persona is ideal for making snap judgements of audience members; his ageist, sexist, classist sensibilities literally jolt when he encounters audience members that challenge his narrow worldview. We are the complicit audience willing him on to offend our liberal sensibilities as he chats from his high horse. He works so well with the audience because the quick-witted Murray, playing the bloviating character, only needs short answers to his questioning before he rattles off reactionary responses to answers he disapproves of, thus giving no time for the audience to start hijacking the show.
Standout routines in the show include speed cameras, mobile phones, warmongering and concludes with an excellent explanation of how historians (nay epic poets) in the future will re-tell the story of Brexit. All of his material is funny and I found myself laughing throughout the night. A particular highlight of the night was a short moment in which The Pub Landlord revealed that he had watched Bohemian Rhapsody and was shocked at some aspects of the story which he had previously been unaware of. Murray’s portrayal of an alpha male’s pride in a british institution like Queen, conflicting with his obvious homophobic discomfort at the film’s themes was physicalised like he was receiving body blows. It was here that the liberal audience were clear on what The Pub Landlord was; an anachronism and a fool.
Sadly this is where Murray’s latest show is exposed somewhat. He is at his best when we see his character’s outdated attitudes in all their failing glory, the further he pushes towards conservatism, the safer we are in our position as outsiders, knowingly mocking the character whilst egging him on to further embarrass himself. It is a shame then that ‘The Landlord of Hope and Glory’, a show which is framed by the premise of sorting out Brexit, never actually pins its colours to the mast. One suspects some trepidation on Al Murray’s part, who is no doubt able to take a measured and highly informed view of the thorny issue of Brexit, so perhaps felt the need to restrain his creation’s more rampant views. Somewhere in this middle ground between leave and remain we feel like we have been offered little insight, which is not what you’d expect from The Pub Landlord. We should have been left in one of two positions, either worried that we just laughed with a right-wing polemic that we agreed with or reassured that we just laughed at a right-wing polemic we disagreed with.
As the show ends on a song that feels shoe-horned in to overtly signify the finale, the house lights came up and I heard fellow audience members apologetically agree that “It was alright.” This is unfair, because The Landlord of Hope and Glory is well written, well performed and funny throughout, but it is this ending, which leaves the audience rather nonplussed. Having suggested that he was going to recruit us to solve the problem, he makes no effort to return to this premise as conclusion. This coupled with an inconclusive stance on Brexit, from a character so conclusively certain on all of his other ideological stances, one can’t help but leave the show feeling like opportunities were missed.
Reviewer - Ben Hassouna-Smith
on - 19/5/19
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