Mourning Glory Reviews

- Sydney

Diana Satire, Nothing But Pleasure

Nothing But Pleasure - David Benson

Playhouse Theatre, Opera House. January 18.

After 40 minutes of David Benson's solo performance, Nothing But Pleasure, two young women stormed out of the show, voicing their opinions - loud and clear: "You don't represent the UK at all!". Benson, who starts his satirical and inquiring dissection of the funeral of the century with due reverence and fine comic mimicry, gradually builds up a head of whimsical, though somewhat disjointed, steam. He reveals a good deal of his personality by softening the blows intended mainly for the British monarchy and Tony Blair. He is good at deflecting hostility and does not trample on Princess Diana as he attempts to fathom the outpouring of grief, the operatic grand gestures, the celebrity aura and the political opportunism which arose from the historic event.

Although the comic monologue is unwieldy and goes off track in parts, it is an insightful and therapeutic night in the theatre - one of the boldest, riskiest and least passive shows I have witnessed in the theatre for quite some time. "If you're not enjoying the show, then go. I don't mind…bugger off!" says Benson, vaguely stunned that his material is prompting walkouts. As the comic actor delivers this with a camp lilt in his voice and the grimaces of a music hall clown, his acerbic missiles are considerably softened. Most of Benson's observations, as fanciful and venomous as they might be, go searching for truths as do the best and most challenging performances. With the Royals certain not to be amused, there is ample reason for every republican to fill Benson's show to the rafters.

First night review by Bryce Hallett (SMH 19.9.99)

Benson sees the funny side in Wales of grief

NOTHING BUT PLEASURE
David Benson
Playhouse Theatre, Opera House, January 18

Within about 40 minutes of the beginning of David Benson's solo performance, Nothing But Pleasure, two young women stormed out of the show voicing their opinions loud and clear: "You don't represent the UK at all!"

It was a startling, if not unexpected moment in the comic actor's thesis and therapy show purporting to dissect and seek truths about why so many people hurled themselves into the "grief pool" in response to the death of Princess Diana.

Nothing But Pleasure - a title which curiously bears no relationship to its content - is largely enjoyable and funny, although, in the final analysis, it does not amount to much. It reveals Benson to be a very good mimic of the comics who have influenced his own brand of carry on, including Kenneth Williams, Frankie Howerd, Julian Clary, the Goons; even Dr Zacchary Smith from Lost in Space gets a brief look in. "Who the hell is David Benson?" he asks his audience early on. This is the first time he has performed here, invited after Leo Schofield (of whom he does a terrific impression) saw him perform at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe last year. Benson begins softly with a long-winded preamble, attempting to bond and communicate directly with his audience before moving in for the kill. Soon we learn that he's a sensitive, solitary gay soul who has instinctually made comedy his best line of defence. He is adept at deflecting hostility, although a bit too transparent with it.

Despite the occasional walkouts - during his 90-minute performance I counted about 10 - there is nothing particularly offensive or salacious. He tends to lash out at obvious targets, conjuring fanciful and cruelly hilarious scenarios based around the royals and the British establishment. His venom against "terrible queens", among whom he self-deprecatingly counts himself, is aimed at "Liz", the Queen Mother, the male members of "The Firm" and, most fearsomely of all, "Fat Reg" and his hastily rewritten ode to Marilyn Monroe, and Tony Blair "a Hitler in the making ... you mark my words!". Nothing But Pleasure manages not to trample on Diana as he paints a picture of her coffin gliding in "spectral silence", a procession punctuated by the hypnotic "bonnngggg" of the Westminster bell.

Benson makes many an astute observation, embellishing here and there and playing with a few conspiracy theories. He tries to fathom the overwhelming show of mourning, the operatic grand gestures, the celebrity aura and the political opportunism. "Where were you when you heard the news?" he asks, putting his material at the mercy of his audience when clearly he is not in full command of it himself. The show is unwieldy, goes off the track in parts, and needs to be shaped by a director to remove the lecturing and indulgence. By and large, though, its fun, bold, risky and spontaneous - more so than the festival's other solo performances.

Besides, how many times do you see people scrambling for the exits. "If you're not enjoying the show, then go. I don't mind... bugger off!" said a rattled Benson on opening night. The fact that he delivered this with a camp lilt in his voice and the grimaces of a music hall clown softened the satiric missiles he gradually built up courage to fire. Nothing But Pleasure finally, is not concerned with the pageantry and machinations of history or its dead, but with the present and the living. You be the judge. Season runs until Saturday

Review by Bryce Hallett (20.1.99)

Sydney Festival

NOTHING BUT PLEASURE
Written and performed by David Benson. Piano, David Paul Jones
Playhouse, Sydney Opera House

DAVID Benson's Nothing But Pleasure is for people who feel that we haven't been hearing enough about Diana, Princess of Wales. It will appeal especially to those who's video recording of her funeral is beginning to wear out.

He starts with a series of quick impressions of old English comedians which is very impressive in establishing his credentials in the camp, bitchy tradition of Kenneth Williams, but in spite of some mild gibes at the royals and some broad attacks on the media, he is not nearly as bitchy as any kid telling Di jokes in the school playground.

He introduces a serious side to his comedy, with a personal story of the loss of a friend and the healing power of laughter. This theme pervades the rest of his show, as he takes us through the public grief at Di's death and the funeral of the century. At inordinate length he tells us where he was when he first heard the news, why the world reacted the way it did, and why everyone's cynicism about her was suddenly suspended when she died. He is particularly interested in the intersection of public media reports and private feelings.

In the longest part of his act he gives a comically annotated list of the celebrities who attended the service. The overall effect is of an endless dinner conversation monopolised by one enthusiast, in which jokes about the royal family are interspersed with a commentary gleaned from the broadsheet newspapers.

Benson has had very good publicity for this production, presumably because the poster seems to show Di peeking mischievously over his shoulder. The impression has been that it is a wicked send-up of the legend, and certainly it was too wicked for two young English women on opening night, who stood up and protested against his irreverence and walked out grinning with a kind of sheepish ostentation.

This was during the part when he tried asking the audience to remember where they were when they heard the news. He was interested, he said, because this was Australia not England, where he usually performs the show. He got a woman who said she was in LA at the time but couldn't remember hearing the news (although presumably she has heard since), and a man from Shrewsbury, which provoked some light-hearted badinage about where Shrewsbury actually is. "It's in England, anyway," Benson finally said, "that's all you need to know." He had a slightly desperate sip of water and moved on to the guest list.

It would be nice to think that no Australian spoke up because no Australian could give a stuff, but that wouldn’t be fair. Ever since JFK we are used to noting down where we are when we hear of the death of people we have seen a lot on the telly, just in case we are asked. And it is true that Diana's death provoked a great public outpouring of emotion, reported assiduously by the media (always with a good picture) and discussed at great length by popular psychologists and cultural historians.

Perhaps, as Benson suggests, we need occasions, in this secular age, for the expression of our spirituality and for coming to terms with our own intimations of mortality, and perhaps Di's death was one of them, in which case God help us all.

Benson has a nice line in mimicry, and a pleasantly relaxed style as a comedian. This would make a very good 20-minute stand-up routine. But it is extended here to an hour and a half. Like all the performers in the Sydney Festival's Solo Series, he would do better in a small cabaret room than in the formal theatrical setting in which his act has been programmed. And like all of them he comes from a different culture to a festival in which we might have expected to see more of our own.

Review by John McCallum - Wednesday 20 January 199

Command performance

Nothing But Pleasure
Playhouse, Sydney Opera House

DAVID Benson has a shrewd, sharp, satirical eye, good comic timing, an easy, winning manner. He begins rather bumpily but, then, his opening night in Sydney was the first time he had ever performed outside the British Isles.

The natural uncertainty of any comedian confronting a new audience on the other side of the globe must surely have been magnified by the nature of his material: the death of Princess Diana. What were the grassroots attitudes here? The only dissent on opening night was from two British women who accused him of painting a negative picture of his homeland. They left.

Although his show should make a monarchist blanch, there's nothing in it to offend devoted fans of the dead Princess. She is not the butt of Benson's wit. Rather, he lays about the British establishment, the royal family, the press and politicians at the huge funeral circus.

He pities the sons who had to perform their grief for the world. He wonders what kind of boredom could have led to such a frenzy. Nothing But Pleasure scrutinises the phenomenon of dead Diana rather than the woman herself.

Benson can be scurrilously funny. He has the comic's ability to tilt and interpret an apparently familiar scene so that his audiences see it anew. What was once ordinary or taken for granted becomes uproarious, outrageous.

Despite an over-long introduction and the odd superfluous tangent, this is refreshingly sharp. Its final performance is at 5pm today.

Sun Herald 24.1.99

Nothing But Pleasure.

By David Benson, at the Opera House Playhouse.
Until tomorrow as part of the Sydney Festival.

Where were you when ''it" happened? "It" was one of those events that we use to define our passage through life: a reference point we can use for our life maps.

The death of Diana, Princess of Wales, starlet of the century, offers rich fodder for comic exploitation and David Benson makes an honest fist of the job in this one-man show.

Maybe, given the effusive nature of the grief exhibited in Britain, tackling Diana's death through comedy was a more risky venture there than in Australia.

Because, as far as comedy goes, Benson's show lacks either the razor edge of pub or club stand-up, where only speed and bite and irreverence are rewarded, or the quirkiness of more subtle comics such as Jerry Seinfeld.

When you think of the sort of material tacked in your average stand-up gig, lampooning the royal family is not exactly pushing the envelope.

Benson's contention is that we can only get over something when we can laugh at it. Fair enough. Think of any tragedy - the Port Arthur massacre for example, and jokes of dubious taste follow close on its heels.

We're now 18 months on from Diana's death and much of Benson's material seems tired. It might have been funny if you'd heard it a few days after the funeral but this far down the track, you begin to wonder why can't he mine it for something else.

Isn't it the trick of comedy to chase our conscience down roads we'd prefer not to venture: to turn the tableau of reality on its head, or its side, or to look at its entrails?

Instead, Benson contented himself with walking us around the "set", as if it was on the day of the funeral, and doing a fine swag of impressions as he brought the cast to life for the show of the century. More bite, more spice or a more obtuse angle would have helped enliven proceedings.

Andrew Stevenson - 22.1.99 Telegraph

Arts - From one queen to another

British actor David Benson was in Edinburgh enjoying a post-performance drink when he heard the news that the Princess of Wales had been in a car crash.

In the week that followed, Benson, like millions of others, watched with incredulity as events unfolded in Britain and Paris. He watched the funeral on television and while enthralled by its dramatic, Shakespearean dimension, did not envisage it would form the basis of a satirical stage production.

But Benson wrote such a one-man show earlier this year, Nothing But Pleasure, performed it at the Edinburgh Festival to good houses and better reviews and was asked to perform at next month's Sydney Festival.

Alternating between narrator and actor, he reconstructs Earl Spencer's devastating attack on the media and the royal Family, makes references to Elton John's reworking of Candle In The Wind, is savage on British Prime Minister Tony Blair's reading of Corinthians, and risks criticism by speculating on the thoughts of the Queen Mother as she enters Westminster Abbey for the service.

Benson, 35, was an Edinburgh Festival hit in 1996 and 1997 with his one-man show Think No Evil Of Us My Life With Kenneth Williams, which toured nationally, including a two-week season in London.

Benson says that while he had several possible subjects for a new stage show and had planned to include something on Princess Diana, it was that piece alone which sparked the interest of friends who watched his early presentation of ideas. "It was an event that everyone had lived through and at that time it was less than a year old," Benson said. "Even those who had avoided it had lived through it and been part of it". As it turned out, the anniversary was a bit of a damp squib and that was revealing in itself. It made everything that happened after her death even more inexplicable in a way. "My feeling about the funeral is that people are, generally speaking, quite bored and it was like the World Cup or lottery rollover week, something to concentrate their minds and to forget how bored they were. I watched the funeral on television from a safe distance in Edinburgh but I was hooked. It was like a Shakespeare play with the brother laying down this challenge in the face of the royal family, and hugely dramatic, and with the women screaming and wailing when the coffin first emerged."

Benson tries to draw the audience into the performance by asking questions and giving the impression that they are among the mourners.

He is accompanied by a piano player and while Candle In The Wind is not performed, Benson is considering introducing it for the Sydney show. "Candle In The Wind was an awful piece. The princes had to sit there and listen to this terrible, fat old queen - and I talk as a terrible, fat old queen myself - singing a ghastly song," Benson said, "But one of the highlights of the show for me is the performance of the Prime Minister reading Corinthians. It was one of the hammiest performances I have ever seen."

Benson says the show will be changed for Australians. "It won't just be the same old thing that I trotted out in Edinburgh because it would not be appropriate or interesting" he said.

Benson recognised that he risked criticism by using Diana's funeral as a basis for the production, but was pleasantly surprised when he received just two negative letters. "What I sensed was that people were actually quite relieved to hear someone being pretty cynical and sardonic about the whole thing. For so long, there was this type of emotional fascism going on."

By Chris Manly - Daily Telegraph, Jan ’99