The Last Laugh at Noël Coward Theatre
The tragicomic hero has long been an archetype of British comedy. Set against a dusty, damp dressing room, The Last Laugh imagines a meeting between Tommy Cooper (Damian Williams), Bob Monkhouse (Simon Cartwright) and Eric Morecambe (Bob Golding), each ageing and ailing on the periphery of fame. Written and directed by Paul Hendy, the play begins with a sluggish Cooper getting ready for a performance, only to be greeted by his comedic peers. Though gags are flying every minute, it’s a concurrently philosophical tale.
Monkhouse, who has a photographic memory for dates, places and gags, and chronicles all his anecdotes in his famous book of jokes, has a more analytical attitude towards comedy. This is in stark contrast to Cooper, who insists that a joke is whatever makes someone laugh. And yet, Cooper is the more tragic of the trio, fatigued and forgetful as he looks back on his life and ponders his legacy. Cooper is the classic sad clown, his constant sarcastic interjections masking a profound melancholy. Looking back at the comedy hall of fame in his dingy dressing room, lined with the likes of Sid James and Tony Hancock, both of whom died relatively young, Cooper is reminded of his own mortality. It’s a realisation that’s twofold: his health issues will lead to the death of his body, but, as with any celebrity, there’s a second death waiting – the death of stardom. He wonders whether anyone will remember him years after he’s gone. In a wink and a nudge to the audience, Monkhouse reassures him that people will be quoting his one-liners in decades to come.
The cast is exemplary, with the three actors bringing their famous counterparts to life again with vigour and physically absolute performances. Williams flits seamlessly between jester and forlorn grump. As the somewhat pompous Monkouse, Cartwright is a delight as he adopts an almost paternal role over his chums. But Golding steals the show; his ability to embody the unmistakable mannerisms and cadence of Morecambe is uncanny, as are his impromptu musical interludes.
Though the one-liners are dated and incongruous with contemporary comedic sensibilities, Morecambe and Monkhouse make a good point about Cooper’s brand of humour: he never relied on racism or misogyny and that, more than anything, made him timeless. It’s a pertinent observation considering the rise in reactionary comedy in the past few years, as veteran comedians complain that they are no longer able to punch down (despite princely Netflix deals).
At once hilarious and heartrending, it’s a poignant rumination on the ephemeral nature of fame, and the pain that lies behind the eternal funnyman. With its flawless performances, The Last Laugh brings Cooper, Morecambe and Monkhouse back from the dead. So, to answer the former’s question, will anyone remember the comedians of yesteryear after they’re long dead? This must-see play is all the confirmation they’ll ever need.
Antonia Georgiou
Photos: Pamela Raith
The Last Laugh is at Noël Coward Theatre until 22nd March 2025. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.
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