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Dawn French: Thirty Million Minutes review – less stand-up gig than public atonement Dawn French: Thirty Million Minutes review – less standup gig than public atonement
(about 11 hours later)
It's extraordinary to consider that Dawn French has lived for 30m minutes – or to the age of 56 – without ever having attempted a solo standup show. The last time she appeared on stage, six years ago, was to bid an official farewell to her 30-year partnership with Jennifer Saunders. But the present show is less of a standard standup gig than a form of high-concept public atonement.It's extraordinary to consider that Dawn French has lived for 30m minutes – or to the age of 56 – without ever having attempted a solo standup show. The last time she appeared on stage, six years ago, was to bid an official farewell to her 30-year partnership with Jennifer Saunders. But the present show is less of a standard standup gig than a form of high-concept public atonement.
The show is designed with slick technical ingenuity by Lez Brotherston and directed by Michael Grandage. French has said that working with Grandage represents the fulfilment of one of her "three genie wishes … the other two of which remain secret, though one of them involves Barack Obama in a pair of Speedos". Grandage is known for the searing emotional honesty he extracts from performers; what is surprising is the extent to which he has encouraged French to flay herself in public.The show is designed with slick technical ingenuity by Lez Brotherston and directed by Michael Grandage. French has said that working with Grandage represents the fulfilment of one of her "three genie wishes … the other two of which remain secret, though one of them involves Barack Obama in a pair of Speedos". Grandage is known for the searing emotional honesty he extracts from performers; what is surprising is the extent to which he has encouraged French to flay herself in public.
There's no getting round the elephant in the room that French is frequently perceived as the elephant in the room. She has said repeatedly that she is not unhappy with her size, which did not stave off a frenzy of tabloid speculation when she shed almost eight stone after the end of her 26-year marriage to Lenny Henry in 2010. A montage of calorie-obsessed headlines is flashed up on a screen, ending with Anne Diamond's "Come on Dawn, we all know you've had a gastric band".There's no getting round the elephant in the room that French is frequently perceived as the elephant in the room. She has said repeatedly that she is not unhappy with her size, which did not stave off a frenzy of tabloid speculation when she shed almost eight stone after the end of her 26-year marriage to Lenny Henry in 2010. A montage of calorie-obsessed headlines is flashed up on a screen, ending with Anne Diamond's "Come on Dawn, we all know you've had a gastric band".
What French actually had, which she now reveals with brutally unsparing detail, was a uterine cancer scare that left her writhing in a hotel bathtub in the middle of the night for fear of staining the bedsheets. Recommended by the doctor to lose weight before surgery, French complied. "So there you have it," she declares. "My belly no longer contains a womb. Though it does most certainly contain a tuna baguette. And a Curly Wurly. And some peanut brittle."What French actually had, which she now reveals with brutally unsparing detail, was a uterine cancer scare that left her writhing in a hotel bathtub in the middle of the night for fear of staining the bedsheets. Recommended by the doctor to lose weight before surgery, French complied. "So there you have it," she declares. "My belly no longer contains a womb. Though it does most certainly contain a tuna baguette. And a Curly Wurly. And some peanut brittle."
French turns out to be fond of giving her body parts celebrity pseudonyms. She likes to call her bosoms Ant and Dec for their errant misbehaviour, and refers to her vagina as Mary, Minky or Mumford and Sons. Her suspicion that she has been allocated the legs of a short, fat old man was confirmed when she was fitted for a theatrical flying harness that had the name of the previous wearer, Harry Secombe, inside.French turns out to be fond of giving her body parts celebrity pseudonyms. She likes to call her bosoms Ant and Dec for their errant misbehaviour, and refers to her vagina as Mary, Minky or Mumford and Sons. Her suspicion that she has been allocated the legs of a short, fat old man was confirmed when she was fitted for a theatrical flying harness that had the name of the previous wearer, Harry Secombe, inside.
Yet the most moving passage concerns French's father, an RAF officer who killed himself when she was just 19 years, or 10m minutes, old. She draws on a recording of herself reading from her 2008 memoir, Dear Fatty, in which anger, incomprehension and grief are expressed in a fusillade of rhetorical questions: "Did you go out still fighting? Did you weep? Did we cross your mind? Did you see a light? Did dead beloved hold their arms out and welcome you to their dead place?"Yet the most moving passage concerns French's father, an RAF officer who killed himself when she was just 19 years, or 10m minutes, old. She draws on a recording of herself reading from her 2008 memoir, Dear Fatty, in which anger, incomprehension and grief are expressed in a fusillade of rhetorical questions: "Did you go out still fighting? Did you weep? Did we cross your mind? Did you see a light? Did dead beloved hold their arms out and welcome you to their dead place?"
The show proves there's tragedy at the core of French's amiable, roly-poly persona; yet the place she finds herself in now appears to be a good one – happily remarried to a man with no showbiz connections and with two of her genie wishes left. On present form, someone ought to get Barack Obama a towel.The show proves there's tragedy at the core of French's amiable, roly-poly persona; yet the place she finds herself in now appears to be a good one – happily remarried to a man with no showbiz connections and with two of her genie wishes left. On present form, someone ought to get Barack Obama a towel.