Rating: C+
Dir: Murray Grigor and Patrick Higson
Star: Billy Connolly
This goes to show that “lost” films are not limited to the silent era. According to the IMDb, at one point, “only one well worn VHS copy [was] known to exist,” before a film print showed up on eBay, allowing for its restoration. It’s remarkable, given how big a star Billy Connolly – sorry, that’s now Sir William Connolly – was at the time. I mean, he reached number one in the British charts with a parody of Tammy Wynette’s D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Surprisingly, his biggest hit was with a song which was not actually written by Connolly, but by Sheb Wooley: he was also the man behind Purple People Eater, and was reportedly the voice actor for the famous Wilhelm Scream sound effect. Anyway…
But then, I forgot Connolly’s origins were as a folk musician – he used to be in a band with Gerry Rafferty, of Baker Street fame. Still, seeing him play the banjo in such an accomplished manner here, was unexpected. A bonus though, since we’re here for the stand-up, naturally. Seeing a brief clip of it on Facebook got me interested in locating the film, and it’s a real time-capsule in a number of ways (not least, some spectacularly seventies haircuts and fashions, at an almost Spinal Tap level). The movie was recorded over just a couple of days in October 1975 at the end of his British Isles tour, when he played dates in Dublin and Belfast, and captures Connolly both on- and off-stage.
This was during a fraught time in Ireland, and not even entertainers were immune from ‘The Troubles’. Just a couple of months earlier, members of the Miami Showband had been pulled over and killed while returning to Dublin from a show in the North. But Connolly seems largely unconcerned. When a Dublin heckler yells out “IRA!”, he responds, “I’d love to see ye doing that at Ibrox. They’ll carve it in yer foreheid.” His talent at handling interruptions is, justifiably, legendary: Jimmy Carr might be his sole contemporary rival. It’s only while performing that Connolly lights up. Although he has an easy rapport with everyone he meets, down to the theatre tea-lady with a pot reluctant to pour, he’s clearly worn out and stumbling towards the finish-line of the tour.
As a result, between performances it’s like watching a polite zombie – this may seem familiar if you’ve seen Connolly’s performance in Fido, though he’s considerably more Scottish here. You should not expect particular insights into what makes him tick, even through the various media interviews he is shown as doing, with varying degrees of grace. The comedy is still rough around the edges, to put it mildly. It ranges from the pin-sharp observational, such as of drunks waiting for the last bus to the notorious Drumchapel estate (which he calls “a reservation on the outskirts of Glasgow”), to stuff about farts I’m sure an 11-year-old would find hysterical. Despite moments of genius, you’re probably better off jumping forward to when he has a few more years experience under his belt.