Steptoe and Son

Over the years we have seen several productions that have successfully re imagined old radio or TV shows. So I was looking forward to West Yorkshire Playhouse's touring production of Steptoe and Son.
Loosely based around four episodes of the classic sitcom, with the blessing of originators Galton & Simpson, the curtain opens on a set comprising what looks like a large bathing hut of the Victorian era with huge barn-like doors. Atop this wheeled shed was old man Steptoe's bedroom; the interior was cleverly dressed and redressed to represent various scenes.
All well and good, so far. But then we get to the casting. This is a three-hander and all of the actors work very hard, especially with the physicality of the roles. Mike Shepherd as Albert, despite looking very like Robert Englund's Freddie Kruger without makeup, does manage to channel some of the spirit of Old Man Steptoe. Kirsty Woodward, saddled with portraying a wide variety of females that drift in and out of the lives of the father and son, conveys them without overshadowing the main characters. Now we come to the crucial role of young Harold Steptoe, the frustrated upwardly mobile entrepreneur stuck in a back street junk yard. Who on earth thought that Harold Steptoe should be played by a John Belushi lookalike? Add to this the fact that both main characters, far from portraying south London totters, burr all their vowels with their native West country twangs. Whilst I appreciate that a carbon copy impersonation would detract from the storylines, relocating to west of Bristol without explanation is confusing for the audience of aficionados. Perhaps that goes some way in explaining a half empty theatre on a Thursday.
Aside from the casting, much fault has to laid at the door of the people who decided to adapt the existing screenplays. While the second half, largely left unadulterated, worked well, the first half was a mish-mash of ideas which didn't work. The Girl was gratuitously brought on throughout the first half to reinforce the period. This consisted of gyrating around to music of the era in a succession of typical outfits. This was completely unnecessary as Steptoe and Son are locked in a time warp that does not rely on the outside world. That is the point. They are dinosaurs, unable to escape the tar pits of Oil Drum Lane, destined to be encapsulated in amber for all eternity.
Forcing the leads to join in with the dancing is ridiculous. Whenever they broke out of character to throw themselves around beside The Girl I was reminded of Armstrong and Miller's excruciating dad-dancing.
Despite the bastardising of the four episodes with extraneous padding the strength of the original writing still shines through and we get sucked into the world of these two, mutually dependant but ultimately antagonistic men, trapped together like Siamaese Twins.
Steptoe and Son is touring til April 2013.

© Paul Towers 15/2/2013