Richard Bean’s latest play is a patchy, partly-autobiographical Yorkshire sitcom about death and generational shift. It’s directed with more sense of mood than purpose by Richard Wilson and Terry Johnson. And it features a delicious if not entirely credible performance from Alun Armstrong as Jack, a 91-year-old ex-copper grumpily railing against his life, his wife Florence (Marion Bailey) and his upwardly mobile son and daughter.
The plot is vestigial, only there to support a series of running gags, acrimonious banter, shaggy dog stories and standalone jokes that feel even older than Jack. It’s entertaining enough, with moments of pathos, but feels sketchy and unfinished. The ending, which takes place during lockdown, descends into cliché.
