Well known for a pacy, inventive and playful approach to theatre-making, much of Kneehigh’s previous work has explored and re-presented stories familiar to us through other sources (Tristan & Yseult, Brief Encounter,Cymbeline, Rapunzel, Nights at the Circus, The Bacchae – to name but a few).Steptoe and Son, a Kneehigh collaboration with West Yorkshire Playhouse, represents something of a departure from this tradition as it not only draws directly from four episodes of the BBC TV series, written by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson between 1962 and 1974, it also sticks pretty faithfully to those scripts (in content and spirit). Emma Rice speaks of the hours spent poring over the scripts prior to embarking on the production, of the laughter and tears they provoked in her – and it does feel as if Kneehigh and West Yorkshire Playhouse, in this production, are seeking largely to excavate those original scripts and to present them to us as an act of homage to the original TV series (rather than as re-contextualised theatrical stagings for a modern audience, many of whom will be unfamiliar with the originals).
There are some thoughtful and creative responses in the production to what is strikingly absent in the original Steptoe and Son television series – namely, women. Kirsty Woodward beautifully plays a variety of (largely silent) female characters, their feminine presence reminding us of the women mourned by both male characters (Albert’s wife and Harold’s mother), of how life might be so completely different for the men if only their world were shaped more by the companionship of women – and of how curiously like a marriage this particular father/son relationship actually is.
There are in Steptoe and Son some familiar Kneehigh elements: music, song, routines that merge choreography, plot and character development, a wacky set that, like a magic box, opens up and spills onto the stage – providing a chaotic world for the men to live in (a world of other people’s junk and discarded bric-a-brac). The actors resist the temptation simply to replicate the legendary performances of Wilfrid Brambell and Harry H. Corbett – both Mike Shepherd (Albert) and Dean Nolan (Harold) have Cornish rather than London accents, Nolan’s ‘You dirty old man!’ lacks the memorable emphasis and musical line that Harry H. Corbett infused it with, and Nolan’s colossal frame physically dominates the stage in a way that I do not remember Corbett dominating the screen. And, though there is much humour in the production (as one would expect), yet there is also a great deal of tenderness and pathos (which I had not expected). The second half, especially, explores the claustrophobia of the two men’s relationship with great affection and insight.
Kneehigh are to be commended for their willingness to take risks, and choosing to tackle such an iconic and well known sitcom of the 1960s and 70s is perhaps one of their riskiest ventures to date. I am not sure it is entirely successful, however. Steptoe and Son (the TV series) is a curious choice, andSteptoe and Son (the play) a somewhat puzzling production. Kneehigh certainly succeed in paying homage to and producing a sense of nostalgia for an old, familiar story; yet I could not help but wonder if, maybe, the production was not simply too indebted to the work of Galton and Simpson, that, maybe, these scripts and these characters are simply so resonant of their original time and contexts that there is something in them that, ultimately, stubbornly resists adaptation to the modern stage.