I was contacted recently by fellow blogger Mark Ramsden. Mark shared a post he had written for his own blog on the recent passing of two legends of British film comedy - Liz Fraser and Fenella Fielding. There have been many tributes to these two great ladies however Mark has taken a different approach, remembering the careers of both Liz and Fenella through their autobiographies. It's a fascinating take on their lives and their work and really captures their individual and much missed personalities.
Two
much loved film stars recently died within five days of each other,
the sad news slightly ameliorated by their both living to a decent
age and leaving a considerable body of work – including these
memoirs.
Liz
Fraser grew up near the New Kent Road ‘over the shop’, was
evacuated during the war, having to wait in line to be chosen by
prospective foster parents.
After
stage school she was soon on live television in the fifties, the
start of a long career she summed up in a charming two page poem,
included here, which she performed at her Comedy Plaque tribute
lunch.
Although
always happy to be a character actor, which gave her a longer career
than some stars, she kept on developing, expanding her range with
avant garde productions in the 60s including Meals
on Wheels
by Charles Wood. Director John Osborne was distant during
rehearsals, his only advice was taking them to see Ken Dodd and
saying, ‘I want you to do it like that.’
Unfortunately
nobody understood the text, on or off stage, there were many walkouts
and several nights of slow handclapping. Eventually they were reduced
to giving out free tickets. Some servicemen came and started laughing
at a line which had been hitherto baffling: ‘clap hands if it comes
out green’, whereupon the actors clapped. The soldiers understood
that a venereal disease would turn sperm green. A
theatre person came backstage to compliment her. ‘But people were
walking out’. ‘Yes. But their backs were electric!’
Liz
was justifiably proud of her serious roles in Live Now Pay
Later, Up The Junction, Crown Court
and a Miss Marple episode, Nemesis.
Her five minute cameo comes twenty minutes into the second half, a
slightly tipsy waitress mourning her daughter – real tears, first
take. Very good indeed. Her neighbour said: ‘I didn’t know you
could act.’
Her
favourite film was Double Bunk
with Sid James though she has fond memories of her breakthough in I’m
All Right Jack,
which had a stellar cast, apparently even the extras in the card game
were skilled actors.
For
someone who was universally loved and admired, also a shrewd
investor, collector of high performance cars and expert bridge player
– nobody’s fool or victim – she didn’t have much luck with
husbands. The first was a less successful actor, conman and thief who
stole from her among other people. The second, a busy light
entertainment director, was an alcoholic philanderer who died aged
41. There’s no self pity anywhere in this wryly amusing book. She
can see the funny side of one promising love affair starting in a
rare respite from the man’s usual routine: drink, drugs,
despondency.
She
was thrilled to have a night out with Judy Garland and witness her
exasperated foul-mouthed reaction to the band playing ‘Over The
Rainbow’ as she arrived at a club. She’d heard it a few too many
times by then.
She
was not fazed by Peter Sellers’ seduction attempt which involved
exposing himself. ‘Well you can put that away.”
He’d invited her round for a gourmet meal cooked by his personal
chef. When he realised he wasn’t going to get his way he asked her
to leave. As she loved good food she insisted on staying and
finishing all of the courses.
She
was told before working for the Samaritans that she would receive
heavy breathing calls from sex pests, which thinned out some
refined ladies. Liz
used to tell them she was wearing red knickers.
She worked there
for thirteen years, also for the Lord’s Taverners and various
animal charities, helping out Joan Sims when she was in difficulties
due to the exceptionally parsimonious producer Peter Rogers, (also,
according to Liz, because she was advised to sell her house, which
would have later been worth millions, then there was her love of
champagne and taxis. Feel a bit mean now. Though not as mean as Peter
Rogers. They never had a rise from the initial fee of £5000 and they
all should have had residuals, which would have enabled the high life
and a comfortable old age.)
Both
books help hunting out performances you may have missed. I never
liked The Professionals
or the revamped Minder
but Liz stands out in both productions, her usual earthy sensuality
and infectious humour enhanced by age.
I’m
even going to attempt a whole episode of Midsomer
Murders
soon, (rather than the usual ten seconds while scrabbling for the
remote.) Series 20 episode 5 contains her final appearance. (Fenella
Fielding is listed on IMDB in Mother,
thirteen episodes a series of a children’s show coming in 2019.)
In
another ‘difficult’ play Kenneth Griffith tried to destroy the
performances of his female co stars, even goose-stepping around them
as they tried to deliver their lines. The director knew it was wrong
but refused to intervene. On the last night they soaked Griffiths
with water and tripped him up.
This
is a lovely, well produced book, plenty of good photos a
comprehensive index and a list of her work at the back. The only
possible criticism, perhaps not terribly
crucial, is that she thinks she is playing a cello in the music
student comedy Raising the Wind.
She actually plays violin and also jazz double bass, in a scene which
swings in more than one sense. That’s a little sleazy but you can
hardly ignore that both of these legendary women intentionally
captivated generations of men. For many of us they are lifelong
crushes.
Fenella
Fielding also kept developing her range throughout her long career.
Her acclaimed theatre work is vast and various and in her late
eighties she dazzled critics with Hecuba’s lament from Euripidies’
The Trojan Woman.
She
grew up in Hackney and Edgware. Her breakthrough coming in
Valmouth in 1958.
Eclectic? She did everything from Shakespeare to the Morecambe
and Wise Show
to The Good Old Days,
later performing an intriguing slow, sensual version of New Order’s
Blue Monday, one of
sixteen recent songs, also for the innovative and daring Savoy Books.
Who deserve some support.
There’s
not a lot of detail about her private life although she mentions
having simultaneous love affairs with two people for twenty years
(though this worldy sophisticate claims to have not noticed some of
the double entendres in Carry
On Screaming!).
A
genuine bohemian, her milieu encompassed sex workers, gangsters and
the abyss: Soho with Jeffrey Bernard. How did this smart, stylish
beauty fit in with the strawberry-nosed alcoholics at the Colony
Rooms? Some of whom were camp misogynists fond of screeching the word
‘C*nt’.
The Colony’s Muriel Belcher is here described as a
‘tough, beaky manageress’. Francis Bacon liked her a lot.
Well, who wouldn’t? Kenneth Williams didn’t, continually
trying to upstage her, stealing her lines if she improvised something
good, doing anything he could to ruin her performance throughout the
run of Pieces of Eight, a two hander written by Peter
Cook.
There were problems even before he misunderstood her
improvised line: ‘Last one off the stage is a sissy’, taking it
as her outing him. He then waged a lengthy poisonous campaign against
her. Fenella points out it’s just possible the audience would have
known he was a homosexual, particularly as he often referred to it
himself. Then again my grandmother’s generation sometimes said of
people like Liberace: ‘They say he’ll never marry’ – one
prophecy which came true.
Kenneth
Williams had forgotten his initial animus by Carry
On Screaming!.
Fenella doesn’t bear a grudge about
anyone incidentally. Liz Fraser occasionally has a
mildly waspish remark for people who have behaved badly
but is essentially good natured. Fenella’s disposition
seems to have been as sunny as her voice was
velvety. Perhaps both of them being successful at something
they had always wanted to do obviated the need
to tear other people apart. Maybe some people prefer
cooperation to pointless bickering. Fenella
quotes Ned Sherrin’s ‘the end of deference’ in her
chapter on the sixties but also asks why did some shop
assistants need to be so rude?
According
to her, Mary Quant had no idea why her
clothes weren’t selling. It was because her staff despised
the customers. Things rapidly improved when
she sacked them and got some helpful middle aged
people.
She
wasn’t much of a drinker, liked cannabis but didn’t over indulge
and her one brush with cocaine was when someone painted it on her
throat to help her voice. It made her extremely ‘vivacious’,
apparently great fun for those nearby.
Fenella
turned down Carry on Cleopatra
for a short love affair with an American boy. Now she wished she’d
done the film.
How
many people remain a style icon for most of a long life? Dusty
Springfield said her eyelashes were a tribute to Fenella, whose own
pop single, Big Bad Mouse
has a touch of Kurt Weill’s Alabama
Song
(sounds like George Chisholm on trombone. Are people are dying
to know who took a six bar solo in a 1966 novelty record? Well, he
was a world class performer as was she – also Liz Fraser of
course.) She later sang at Jarvis Cocker’s Meltdown,
‘somewhere between Grace Jones and Pete Doherty.’
She
did Celebrity Squares
with Groucho Marx and saw people trying to impress him by imitating
his work. ‘thinking he would be amused. However, a) they didn’t
know the material b) they couldn’t do it. c) He didn’t give a
f**k.’
Her
brother being a Conservative luminary meant she met Margaret Thatcher
who responded to Fenella complimenting her dress sense by telling her
four year old niece some tips on where to stand so her broach caught
the light. Fenella didn’t like her politics but recognised a
formidable presence.
Best known now for the perennially popular
Carry On Screaming she was slightly miffed that a third of her fan
mail came from being the voice in The Prisoner, although she’s
grateful for these performances that remain popular for decades,
including her voice work in Dougal and the Blue Cat, revered
by Mark Kermode. His fine
tribute.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gk_1qs82R7U
Both
stars excelled in The Avengers,
Liz in The Girl From Auntie,
Fenella in The Charmers,
both easy to find on DailyMotion.com.
Do
You Mind If I Smoke?
has good photos, diary entries at the back and an introduction by her
collaborator Simon McKay, a psychotherapist she met at her pilates
class. So
many great stories throughout both books, which will please
anyone who has ever admired these legendary women. They’re both
essential purchases.
Liz
Fraser’s Guardian obituary concludes with this cute anecdote which
would also apply to Fenella Fielding. ‘Put
up in a local hotel by the Tony
Hancock Appreciation Society the
night before the event, Liz was asked by the receptionist what her
profession was. With a twinkle in the eye, she answered: “Film
star, dear!”’
