Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell

The trouble with alcohol is that it preserves The Arrogance of Youth in a pickle of boorishness, warps reality and postpones the onset of maturity. An alcoholic's selfishness is unthinking and comes so naturally and seamlessly that one tends to allow the drunk a latitude that one extends to children and comedians. Thus the Heroic drunk is applauded for their stamina, lauded because they are, occasionally, entertaining to other drunks and indulged because they reflect the prevailing state of mind. To the sober they are boorish, arrogant and pathologically selfish, almost to a fault. And this is the problem with this play. Peter O'Toole does a great job but I'm left feeling a bit uneasy about his performance knowing that the play could actually be called 'Peter O'Toole is unwell.' We go along with the character and laugh the laughs of the drunk which aren't, in fact, funny to the sober. They rely on that drunken arrogance that sneers at commonplace conversation about umbrellas and that childish humour that thinks cat-racing is funny. Waterhouse does give some cues for pathos but the women who are sickened by Bernard's behaviour and the poignancy of his having to move flats again, are drowned in the alcohol and fag smoke and swept away by the psychopathology of the drunk. This is actually a Tragedy rather than a Comedy - but you try telling them that down at the Coach and Horses.

Live film version of Keith Waterhouse's stage play 'Jeffrey Bernard is unwell' based on the fascinating but degenerate journalist of the title. Peter O'Toole and the original supporting cast reprise their roles from ten years ago. O'Toole's performance as the perpetually sloshed Bernard is one of the finest he has ever done and nothing but a pleasure to watch. Impending doom has never looked so appealing. Buy it.

Keith Waterhouse's tribute to his own very good friend is not a play that is to be attempted by the faint hearted. Its demands upon the main protagonist are severe. Peter O'Toole keeps on the right side of mawkishness as he recounts the memories of a vodka sodden journalist, Jeffrey Barnard. Jeffrey Barnard's binges would, upon occasion, lead to his missing the deadline for his weekly column in the political weekly 'The Spectator' when his Low Life column would be replaced with the terse euphemistic title of the play.

The play is really a consummately delivered monologue. It is a lament for a Soho that has now passed. All the bohemian characters have now been replaced by wannabes, striking poses rather than living lives. Jeffrey Barnard could easily be dismissed as a boring old conservative but this danger is easily averted by the thick vein of madcap humour. This play is hysterically funny as Jeff recounts his views on women, wives, ex- and present, and his passions for gambling, horses and drink and hostelries. A puritan would not enjoy this, but its portrait of an unrepentant roue is beautifully paced and it is not without its moments of genuine pathos. I do urge you to see it.

What happens when you accidentally lock an alcoholic in your pub and in charge of an unguarded bottle of Vodka? Regret, happy memories and tales of cat racing.

Keith Waterhouse doesn't beat around the bush when he shows Bernhard as arrogant, unlikable, unlovable and very charming with it. You see this and make you're own mind up This shows that there was a side to London's Soho other than the porn industry and makes and viewer wish for an age they never experienced first hand.

I agree, with my fellow reviewer that the district is full of wanabies, but if you want a taste of that bygone age Bohemia it still exists in the Coach and Horses (where this story is set). Yes, as far as I know, Norman is still the landlord. But be prepared to pay for the most expensive pints in Soho......oh yes, sandwiches are still a pound

I'm so glad I saw this on TV, as it is long-standing regret that I passed up the chance to see O'Toole in this play when it was still running in the West End.

What we have here is an abridged version of the play which has previously starred Tom Conti, amongst others. Bernard was a permanently sloshed, cynical reporter, who was renowned for his excesses with drink and women - for all his faults, this play presents the character with some affection. Peter O'Toole couldn't be more perfect for the role - largely carrying the piece on his own, with few other characters as occasional cyphers to re-enact past experiences, he gives Bernard a range of emotions and perspectives to draw the viewer in.

My favourite scene by far is the one about the cat-race, but of course the egg-in-the-cup routine has had a fair share of attention, too. Highly recommended - I guarantee you'll have a good time watching this little gem.