Think Peckham market traders ducking and diving for a living. Neurotic hoteliers struggling to run a clapped-out guesthouse. As a rule, sitcoms are built around a distinctive premise or setting and then populated by a bunch of characters, on whose popularity success will depend. One might quibble with the wisdom of reviving these sitcoms, for the stage or any other medium, 40 years after the event – as I did when watching The Good Life at the Theatre Royal Bath a few months back. But at least it’s possible, because – even if you can’t duplicate a Richard Briers or a John Cleese – there’s a predicament there, an inherently amusing situation, on which to build.
But then there’s that subset of sitcoms built around their characters alone, whose whole basis is: let’s wind this character up and watch them do their thing. Count Arthur Strong is one; Miranda is another. So too is Some Mothers Do ’Ave ’Em, a 70s favourite (25 million viewers!) whose premise is simply: hapless man has accidents. Such a show stands or falls on its casting, and Some Mothers Do ’Ave ’Em had casting for the ages. I’ve been watching old episodes in advance of seeing the new theatrical adaptation. Aside from the nostalgia rush of re-engaging with a show that stirs my very earliest family-TV memories, the pleasure has all been about Michael Crawford’s beautiful turn as walking calamity Frank Spencer – with a side order of respect for his on-screen wife and perfect foil, Michelle Dotrice.
