Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell

I first saw this many moons ago late at night. What on earth was it doing on so late?! This has to be among the top three things I've ever witnessed. Peter O'Toole's performance is simply staggeringly brilliant. Whilst not wanting to take anything away from the wonderful support, he steals the show whenever he's on stage. Which is all the time! It really makes you want to go to the theatre and see it in all its glory, but for now the DVD will have to do. If only everything I saw was so entertaining, with a few words of warning about life thrown in there as well, purely by accident but they are there. But what a life Jeffrey Bernard surely lived....

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

Jeffrey Bernard lived a remarkable boozy life full of highs, lows and downright bad behaviour, and it would have been all too easy to create a production lifting his own written accounts verbatim. However, Bernard's own columns were often bitter, maudlin affairs that would not have resulted in a compelling production. Keith Waterhouse on the other hand, did an amazing job of separating the wheat from the chaff from the Spectator 'Low Life' columns, and in doing so provided the script for the most entertaining 2 hours you could hope to observe. Peter O'Toole was perfect for the part and managed to blend humour, wit, anger, melancholy and pathos almost effortlessly.

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.

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.