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I was disappointed by Hattie. One of the most enjoyable aspects of reviewing is being ruthless and crushing, but Hattie, the tale of Carry On star Hattie Jacques was brilliant.
It starts off normally enough. A 1906s housewife (admittedly also a film star) with a happy home, two young boys, glamorous clothes and a loving if vague husband is missing something, something which she can’t quite put her finger on. She is content but not happy. Along comes a dashing young man ten years younger than she is and he sweeps her off her feet. Before she knows what’s going on she is having lots of ooo-er-Mrs in various locations.
The thing is, she still loves her husband. What to do? Well, of course, the obvious answer is to move John into their spare bedroom and carry on with both of them. Inevitably her husband John le Mesurier catches them in the act, and backs out of the room with a heartbreaking “terribly sorry”. Game over? No actually, le Mesurier decides to stay and moves into John’s room, while John takes his place in Hattie’s bed. Things come to a head eventually and le Mesurier moves out but this bizarre situation continues for a fairly lengthy amount of time. Indeed, Hattie and le Mesurier remained surprisingly close friends until Hattie died some years later. I suppose it was the Sixties.
This BBC production views this relationship through Hattie’s eyes, and therefore it is presented as completely normal; indeed, the only character who can see any problem with it is her lover John, who gives what must be the viewer’s perspective that it is all completely mental. Despite being the only sane character, though, Aidan Turner’s John Schofield was difficult to like. He played the part well, bringing narcissism and heated sexuality to the role which required him to be a sexual predator impossible to resist. Nevertheless I couldn’t work out why Hattie left her husband for him. Schofield seemed like a man who would be alright for a fling, but certainly not for love.
Robert Bathhurst’s le Mesurier, on the other hand, was completely adorable. Mainly hidden behind a newspaper, he gave an artless performance of a heartbreakingly sweet man whose tragic flaw was to love his wife more than she deserved. I nearly cheered for him when he snapped back to John’s aggressive questioning of where his balls were with the reply “well they’re certainly not in my brain”.
Ruth Jones was gorgeous as Hattie. She portrayed a woman who was constantly in control of the parts she was playing, on screen and in real life, until she became addicted to something which made her utterly reckless. Since the opening scene is the break-up of her relationship with John five years later when he left her for another women, her performance takes on an extra sense of tragedy as we watch her ecstatically destroying her life day by day.
Hattie made for uncomfortable viewing but it was a fantastic production, from the music to the costumes to the devastatingly good performances.
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