A Little of What You Fancy

There have been all too few documentary films made about the London music hall. This is certainly;y one of the best. To begin with, it allows the material to speak for itself. Every song is heard complete. The commentary never intrudes on the performers. Top of the bill are some great veterans, caught on film in the late 1920s and early 30s. The greatest of all the Cockney singers, Gus Elen gives "It'sa great big shame", in costume. and with all his gestures and the unspoken commentary, in which he laments the fate of his pal Bill, who has fallen under the spell of the girl "only four foot six", who now orders him to "clean the winders an' the knives". Elen never smiles, he is a deadpan comic, with a face that Rembrandt would have loved. Lily Morris follows on with the lament of the girl who is "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride". A genius of grotesque dance and comic song, La Morris seems to have no fear of the camera as she narrates the appalling tale of her middle-aged mother who gave her boy-friend "a pinch". The situation was simple, "Being a widow, she knew what to do". Many people consider Elen and Morris to have been the greatest music-hall singer of the later period of the "halls", and these precious films prove that their opinions were near the mark. The film also includes footage of Ella Sields singing her signature song "Burlington Bertie from Bow". There are sequences filmed at the Players Theatre (Gatti's Under the Arches), at Wilton's Music Hall, and Macdonald's in Hoxton. Mark Eden makes a glamorous presenter, and then takes part in a delightful silent film sequence, mimed to Tom Leamore's recording of "Percy from Pimlico". The other quite fascinating aspect of this gem of a film is the footage of Carnaby Street and the Strand in the late 1960s. The script is written by Ray Mackender, who was the Chairman of the British Music Hall Society in the 1960s, and who, although someone working in the pop-music industry, was devoted to the Victorian and Edwardian music hall. It was partly through his endeavour that Wilton's Music Hall was preserved - it is now once again a working theatre. If nothing else, this film is a tribute to the enthusiasm of Ray (and his partner Gerry Glover), who loved the halls, and the history surrounding them. And Mark Eden Has charisma to spare. There scenes filmed at The Players give an authentic picture of this long-running, nostalgic, but vigorous re-creation of late-Victorian theatre. For modern viewers, the audience, with many people smoking, will appear wild, perhaps unbridled and raunchy. That too is authentic music hall. Magic.

Victorian Music Hall has a small band of devoted knowledgeable followers (note the earlier reviews) and this documentary bridges the gap between them and those whose knowledge extends no further than BBC TV's long running pseudo-recreation: "The Good Old Days". It is a good blend of the historic and informative as well providing entertaining recreations although it has a rather similar sanitised aura. The documentary itself has become historic as it shows what remnants of the original halls then remained in 1968.

The 1944 British (Ealing Studios) film "Champagne Charlie" - a partly fictional entertaining biography of the leading music hall performer of the mid 19th Century George Leybourne - is far closer to the spirit of the times. Spirits, wines and beer sold in vast quantities fuelled the halls. But above all it was the entertainers who pulled in the customers.

For reasons presumably of good taste, a point not addressed in the documentary was the risqué nature of many of the songs. "The Galloping Major" was an old music hall song which lingered on into the 1960s and 1970's familiar to both adults and children - or rather the tune and the chorus were familiar. However to see it performed on stage with all the verses complete with gestures is a very startling revelation. Music Halls were not respectable places - the often lewd or suggestive songs, the heavy consumption of alcohol - and the presence of unaccompanied women made them a target for morality campaigners. One such managed to have screens erected to shield the sight of these ladies from the male patrons. A group of young army officers tore the screen down in protest - one of the officers being Winston Churchill.

As the late jazz musician and writer Benny Green pointed out, music hall had some illustrious supporters - Rudyard Kipling confessed to being both an enthusiastic attendee as well as being inspired by some of the songs. George Bernard Shaw, a similar enthusiast, reviewed some of the top acts, treating them with respect as serious artists.

Many of the performers were women but the halls were generally a man's world - they were hardly a place for the respectable woman but they brought together an immense range of people - from, up in the gallery, the 13 year old costermonger and his "wife" of a similar age to assorted gents, swells and mashers in the stalls - and the likes of Bernard Shaw and Kipling. Their true recreation is perhaps only possible in the imagination.

The Players' Theatre sequences were directed by Michael Winner, a fact seemingly never mentioned in any biographies. Winner was, apparently, an office boy at Fancey's and got the job when someone else fell ill. This information was given to me directly by the late Denis Martin who was one of the Players' directors and who was directly involved in the making of the film. A useless piece of trivial information was also that the arc lights used during filming caught the house curtains alight and the Players' got a new set of curtains from the film producers.

Not mentioned in the earlier comments are the main performers at the Players. Firstly there is a lengthy sequence with the chairman, a very young Barry Cryer, talking to the audience. Then there is an excellent comic number (They Always Pick on Me) by Sheila Bernette. The film ends with the entire Harry Champion Scena with John Rutland as Champion. This was shot when the dressing rooms were directly backstage and Rutland is assisted at the beginning by Players' stalwart Michael Darbyshire. The accompanying cast - too many to name - include the late Brian Blades who also choreographed the scena.

One cast list error. Julia Sutton is listed but in fact it was Doreen Hermitage and not her.

The film itself deserves all the comments made earlier despite the fact it wanders off course a bit in the Carnaby Street sequence. It never made a release on VHS and it is wonderful to see it get released at last on DVD.