The Last Laugh West End Reviews

These three character studies show us the price the men paid for their success, but they also show us how they did it, genius, as ever, one part God-given alchemy and two parts bloody hard work. The pacy 80 minutes is leavened by some of their greate...

These three character studies show us the price the men paid for their success, but they also show us how they did it, genius, as ever, one part God-given alchemy and two parts bloody hard work. The pacy 80 minutes is leavened by some of their greatest hits, the punchlines, the sketches and the songs that live forever in the hearts of those who saw them. Unlike so many biopics these days, we’re never in any doubt as to what made these men what they were, the focus never straying to wives, neuroses or an overlay of 21st century hot-button issues.

If it occasionally slides into over-sentimentality and mawkishness, particularly in the closing moments, that feels forgivable. The memory of these comedy greats is fading fast – it’s over 40 years since Cooper and Morecambe died – kept alive l...

If it occasionally slides into over-sentimentality and mawkishness, particularly in the closing moments, that feels forgivable. The memory of these comedy greats is fading fast – it’s over 40 years since Cooper and Morecambe died – kept alive largely by YouTube clips and Christmas repeats. Monkhouse’s insistence on identifying the provenance of jokes (many of them his own) seems an apt reminder of our wider debt to that generation, on whose shoulders today’s booming comedy sector stands. This is a welcome chance to remember what made them so beloved, and at a brisk 80 minutes, it leaves you aching for more – just like the comics themselves.

Hendy admittedly knows his comedy history, with the onstage trio paying tribute to Max Miller, Sid Field, George Formby and others, and acknowledging the long tradition of stealing jokes. There are some old-favourite zingers: “Des O’Connor – a ...

Hendy admittedly knows his comedy history, with the onstage trio paying tribute to Max Miller, Sid Field, George Formby and others, and acknowledging the long tradition of stealing jokes. There are some old-favourite zingers: “Des O’Connor – a hard man to ignore. But worth the effort.” But mostly it’s just a chortling, smug, snoozefest, with moments of seriousness heavily flagged by flickering bulbs and the kind of “thoom” sound effect that usually accompanies a nuclear explosion in films.

The script doesn’t dig deep, but still cuts below the surface, broaching what lasts, and what doesn’t, and the way we must all take our final bow. Golding’s contribution perhaps risks the greatest disappointment, given how adored Morecambe was,...

The script doesn’t dig deep, but still cuts below the surface, broaching what lasts, and what doesn’t, and the way we must all take our final bow. Golding’s contribution perhaps risks the greatest disappointment, given how adored Morecambe was, but even if he trades on a roster of familiar mannerisms – the raised eyebrows and forced chuckles, that pipe-puffing insouciance – he beautifully catches the essence of the star. And when he takes to a chair to strum and sing With My Little Stick of Blackpool Rock, we ascend to a cloud nine where being innocuously daft is all. If we’re left wanting more, maybe that’s the point.

If you know anything about the men, there is nothing much new to learn here, but the conversation sparkles with wit and suitably excellent timing. It is an incredibly nostalgic show, taking us back to a time where successful mainstream comedy was les...

If you know anything about the men, there is nothing much new to learn here, but the conversation sparkles with wit and suitably excellent timing. It is an incredibly nostalgic show, taking us back to a time where successful mainstream comedy was less offensive, apolitical and something that whole families gathered to enjoy together. Younger generations may roll their eyes at the staidness of certain jokes, but the influence these men have had on comedians ever since is clear to see.

It’s refreshing to see how well Cooper, Monkhouse and Morecambe get on, rather than the antagonism bordering on cliché that we tend to get in bio-dramas about comedians in theatre or film. Hendy has them gently ribbing each other – particularly ...

It’s refreshing to see how well Cooper, Monkhouse and Morecambe get on, rather than the antagonism bordering on cliché that we tend to get in bio-dramas about comedians in theatre or film. Hendy has them gently ribbing each other – particularly about Monkhouse’s big book of carefully pre-prepared jokes – but affectionately, and out of love for what they do. And we get a lot about the history of British comedy through the trio’s reminiscences about who they’ve worked with and admired. It’s often pretty illuminating, even if Hendy plays it safe by steering clear of really addressing the sexism, homophobia and racism underlying the period on which he’s focused.

I enjoyed The Last Laugh a lot, while never quite buying into it as a piece of drama. For the first half of its 80-minute running time, you think this superstar joke-off might be heading somewhere — and even if it isn’t, the interplay is so good ...

I enjoyed The Last Laugh a lot, while never quite buying into it as a piece of drama. For the first half of its 80-minute running time, you think this superstar joke-off might be heading somewhere — and even if it isn’t, the interplay is so good that it’s fun just being in the room with these take-offs of one-offs. Damian Williams has enormous dishevelled authority as Cooper, playing with his props, firing back at Monkhouse’s ruminative smarm with rough banter of his own.