Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Who Do You Think You Are Kidding, Grim Reaper?

Jimmy Savile/Operation Yew Tree, the BBC in crisis, seemingly no near and satisfactory conclusion to the phone-hacking scandal... there's so much miserable media-related news at the moment, it almost feels like the news of the deaths of two well-loved British actors comes as light relief. I'm being flippant, of course; it's never "good" when a popular celebrity passes away (please take note, Piers Morgan, you are in no way popular with anyone, so forgive us when the sad day comes for saying "Good riddance to the smug, talentless, lying pissweasel"), and this past week has seen the passing of a pair of iconic comic performers whose characters entertained generations of people, and whose deaths have borne witness to genuinely touching tributes across the Internet and other media forms. I'd like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to these two gentlemen aswell, both of whom I grew up watching on the television and continued to be delighted by in adulthood.

Clive Dunn as Corporal Jones: the bumbling duffer David Jason could have been
 
Clive Dunn passed away on November 6, 2012, aged 92, after illness resulting from an operation. Dunn was, of course, best known for his role as the buffoonish but brave veteren Home Guarder Corporal Jones in the wonderfully consistent 1970s BBC sitcom Dad's Army. Brits both younger and older than me just love the character of Jones, with his catchphrase "Don't panic!" etched in our memories from an early age. Dad's Army itself, is a delightful programme; a warm, funny situation comedy showcasing some of Britain's best-loved and most talented actors of 40, 50 years ago, the majority of whom were in their twilight years when the show first came to be made. Clive Dunn was unusual in that he was only 48 when he won the role of Jones in 1968 (beating out none other than David Jason for the part), and though Dad's Army would remain his prominent and most notable job for the next nine years, it would set a precedent for the multi-talented Dunn to play characters much older than him.
 

Dunn went on to play another pensioner, Charlie Quick, in the 1979 children's comedy Grandad, a programme bizarrely inspired in part by Clive having a number one hit single of the same name nine years previously in character as a kindly old fogey. It's easy to forget that Dunn was not an old man when these roles and opportunities brought him onto the television screens and record players of the nation, and I don't think it is in poor taste to suggest that a lot of people probably assumed that Dunn, who had enjoyed a quiet retirement in Portugal since the 1980s, had already passed away years ago, like so many of his Walmington-On-Sea comrades. I have seen every episode of Dad's Army, and Jones is a wonderful, integral part of every one. I saw the Grandad series once about 20 years ago when it was repeated on Saturday mornings, and while obviously not a patch on Dad's Army, was infinitely watchable thanks to Dunn's believable, humourous portrayal of Charlie. When it comes to Clive Dunn "typecasting" is a compliment, because he was the man when it came to playing old geezers, and he did it perfectly every single time. It seems oddly suspicious that, only days after his death, there is a rumour abound that Dad's Army is to be remade into a movie, with would you believe possibly a female Captain Mainwaring taking charge of an all-new platoon. I'm not normally precious about old shows or films being remade, but I think the best thing is to leave Dad's Army (which did spin-off into a movie itself) as it is: repeated on BBC2 every Saturday from now until the end of time, so that even more future generations can fall in love with a national treasure and one of the greatest TV shows ever made. God bless Clive Dunn, Arthur Lowe, John Le Mesurier and all the late, great cast of Dad's Army. Let them rest in peace.

Bill Tarmey as Jack Duckworth: Corrie's warm Northern humour encapsulated in one man
 
Just three days after Clive Dunn's death, Bill Tarmey passed away in Tenerife, aged 71. Tarmey had only left his role on Coronation Street as lovable layabout-turned-surrogate father to the nation Jack Duckworth in 2010, a part he began playing on a part-time basis in 1979, before he was made a proper addition to the cast in 1983. Though it feels like Bill had been in Corrie absolutely donkeys years, his stint was relatively short if compared to William Roache or Eileen Derbyshire. But Tarmey's 31 years on the Weatherfield cobbles made him arguably the archetypal Street resident, thanks mainly to his glorious partnership with screen wife Liz Dawn (Vera), who had left the programme back in 2008 due to ill health.
 
Jack and Vera's relationship was initially comically dysfunctional, with workshy, philandering Jack often plotting to get one over on his nagging, loudmouth spouse, and Vera almost always having the last laugh. But as the years went by, Coronation Street writers allowed us to witness more tender moments between the Duckworths, whilst not losing sight of the fantastic comic chemistry they had together. The Duckworths were the Street: and their antics, be it Jack's obsession with his pigeons, the stone-cladding of their house, their surprising and ultimately unsuccessful tenure at the Rovers, entertained and touched the hearts of millions of viewers for nigh-on three decades. When Liz quit the show and Vera was killed off in what, for my money, remains one of the most poignant moments in soap opera history, most felt it was only a matter of time before Bill, himself having had numerous health scares over the years, would announce his retirement. Tarmey, however, carried on for more than two years before hanging up Jack's trademark broken spectacles for good. Jack's final scene in Corrie was, again a very touching one, with the former window-cleaner passing away peacefully in his armchair, and his spirit finally being reunited with that of his beloved wife Vera. Normally characters coming back as ghosts is something I would prefer being kept confined to the Australian soap, but Liz Dawn's cameo was beautifully written and performed, and it was the perfect send-off for Jack. Bill Tarmey was also a singer, ironically playing Jack as a deluded wannabe club crooner with very little talent, and had minor success in the 1990s with three albums. He will be sorely missed by his family, former Street co-stars, and the millions of us who came to look upon him as our surrogate dad every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 7.30pm.
 
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