Millions of words have been typed on the life and talent of Tony Hancock, but even in 2022 there are still new discoveries and revelations to be made about this unique performer. Back in 1960 he was arguably the most popular comic on TV and even in 2002 (34 years after his death) he topped a poll to find the country’s favourite comedian. His long-lasting fame rests on “Hancock’s Half Hour”: six series of radio broadcasts from 1954-59 and seven on BBC television from 1956-61, all written by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson. HHH was a proto-sitcom, with a varying cast of characters played by (amongst others) Sid James, Bill Kerr, Kenneth Williams and Hattie Jacques – all living or working with a fictionalised version of Hancock, in a seedier part of outer London. The regular cast was eventually whittled down to a double-act, Hancock and James, two bachelors looking for an escape from the drab existence of 1950s suburbia. These are hilarious short plays about dreaming for more than you’ve got and plans that always end in failure. Galton and Simpson toy with reality and continuity with each episode, oddly self-contained to accommodate each silly plot: Hancock’s house is a first floor flat one week, the next it is a whole house. But there is an essential reality at the heart of the series: the friendship between Sid and Tony, that mirrored real life. James was the hard-headed realist, the wheeler-dealer who didn’t angst about a line – who played a quasi-paternal role for his younger co-star, the dreamer and the perfectionist. Sid’s shock when Hancock fired him from the seventh (and final) BBCTV series in 1961 was heartfelt, but he would soon establish himself as a bona-fide star in his own right on both the small and the big screen. Ironically, firing James would herald the beginning of the end for Hancock’s own success.
The last of the BBC series, now entitled “Hancock” not only reflected a shorter running time (25 minutes) but a change of direction. Hancock, Galton and Simpson all agreed they could develop the star’s fictional persona. In these episodes we see “Tony” a little more worldly, living in an Earls Court bedsit, but this more grown-up version is also lonely. He relies on books and a CB radio for company and without Sid there are only the walls to talk to. He has amusing altercations working at the BBC or at the doctor’s, but he always returns to an empty flat. It remained popular, reaching over 20 million viewers, and this particular series has gained almost legendary status with recordings made on LP and video, and frequent repeats. “The Blood Donor”, “The Lift” and “The Radio Ham” are true classics, but they aren’t perfect, there is a bleakness about them and Hancock’s performance is less sure without a permanent co-star, nor are they the end of the story when it comes to Hancock on TV.
My wife and I were lucky enough to attend a screening at the NFT of 2 episodes of “Hancock”, not seen in full by the public for nearly 60 years. But this series was made by commercial TV company ATV in 1963. Tied up in legal disputes, it is only now that restored versions of these 13 episodes are being released on DVD by Kaleidoscope. And what we saw was a revelation. It has been received wisdom that these shows (written by a team of new writers after the firing of Galton and Simpson and co-produced by Hancock himself) were unwatchable, with the Hancock family suppressing them for decades as they sullied the comedian’s legacy. On the evidence I’ve seen this was a mistake – with the first of the episodes shown, in some ways, even an improvement on what had come directly before. “The Eye-Witness” was the first of the series to be filmed (and the second to be broadcast) and follows the formula of Tony standing on a London street-corner before being embroiled in a random adventure. This time he fails to foil a bank-robbery and has to seek police protection when he unwisely gets his face and address in the papers as the chief witness to the crime. The script is polished and logical and allows the pompous, yet vulnerable Hancock persona to shine. Tony looks healthy and enthusiastic, his timing is pretty good and it appears that his eyes are not wandering for the cue-cards that he sometimes relied on for his last BBC shows. He is blessed with a serious supporting cast to interact with, including Peter Vaughan, and superior sets and lighting than he’d had previously. It is a very successfully produced short comic play, joyfully performed, that simply should be better known. I love Derek Scott’s theme tune too.
From this promising start however events conspired against the comedian. His chosen scriptwriter, Godfrey Harrison, was unable to come up with the required material for all 13 episodes so other writers had to be found, up and coming talents such as Terry Nation and Dennis Spooner were employed, but despite their efforts the project seemed to be unravelling artistically. Without a core cast or team to rely on it looks like Hancock lost his nerve, and he turned to drink. The second episode screened “The Night Out” (written by Nation, a young gagman that Hancock had used for his live shows) was episode 9 and it comes as a shock. The script is fine, direction good and the supporting cast (led by a young Derek Nimmo) do their best, however Hancock himself looks like a different person. The familiar quiff and paunch as seen in Episode 2 have vanished, replaced by a greying crop and more svelte silhouette. It’s an unfamiliar setting for the character too, but one the real Hancock was only too used to, the aftermath of a decadent party in a five-star hotel. It remains classic sitcom territory with a few big laughs (as Tony discovers in his drunken state he’d agreed to pay for the room and several crates of champagne and next morning tries to escape), but the energy and joy is clearly fading. Perhaps Nation (a man who must’ve witnessed such behaviour for real) penned something too close to home.
I await the full DVD box set to arrive before making a final judgement on this missing chapter in Hancock’s career. But as a fan I’m surprised and happy that perhaps there is still something to cheer about in this talented artist’s last years, a period previously written off as one of inexorable decline and failure.
