Dick Barton – Special Agent
About the Production
The star of the BBC’s first daily radio serial, private investigator and sometime Special Agent, Dick Barton appeared in in 711 episodes between 1946 and 1951 – the brainchild of BBC producer Norman Collins, who had of a visions of a ‘cloak and dagger soap opera’ broadcast every evening.
With his two sidekicks Jock and Snowy, Dick managed to get into some pretty tight scrapes – much to the delight of the listening audience but to the murmurings of stern disapproval from various clergymen of the day. Which seems strange, especially in hindsight, given that Dick’s adventures and last-moment escapes from deadly danger were all written and performed in accordance with a very strict code of conduct. No drinking, no swearing, no violence other than a good clean ‘sock to the jaw’ and even then only if evenly matched or outnumbered. Definitely no girlfriends or romantic associations, and no lying. If Dick needs to give chase to a fleeing villain in a conveniently available car, he must first ask the owner’s permission. No themes of horror should be used either, so no ghosts, vampires, other supernatural creatures or gorillas. (Yes, specifically no gorillas). It’s a wonder Dick managed anything more exciting than a trip to the shops.
Despite all this the show was a huge success, with, at its peak, 15 million listeners tuning in at 6.45pm each evening for 15 minutes of derring-do. The fast-paced, free wheeling adventures were just what post-war Britain was waiting for, and one-time commando Capt. Richard Barton MC was the hero of the hour. Or quarter of an hour, to be precise. However, the BBC were uncomfortable with their sensationalist success story, and when a new programme successfully debuted in a late morning slot in 1951, an everyday tale of life in a rural community, they quickly moved to replace the Special Agent with it. So for all the arch-foes and villains that Barton confronted, he was eventually killed off by ‘The Archers’.
An ill-fated attempt to bring back Barton to television in 1979 seemed to draw a far from discreet veil over any new adventures, but in 1998, Phil Wilmott wrote the musical ‘Dick Barton, Episode One – Special Agent’, part homage, part spoof, and with music from Stefan Bednarczyk, it was a roaring success when it debuted at the Croydon’s Warehouse Theatre, going on to tour Britain over the next couple of years. Since then there have been five sequels, the first two penned by Wilmott and then Duncan Wisbey took the reins
And now, it’s our turn to take on the mac and trilby of upright and uptight British manliness. Warning. The code of conduct will be disobeyed frequently.
During one of the Sunday set-building sessions for ‘Dick Barton’, Julian Cooper, who had been a well-liked part of the group in a backstage capacity for a number of years, suffered a sudden massive heart attack. Despite the efforts of both TWC members and ambulance crew to resuscitate him, Julian was pronounced dead on arrival at Mayday Hospital in Croydon. He was just 43. The play was dedicated to his memory.
The Cast
Behind the Scenes
The Reviews
Awarded Four Stars
What I find great about the members of Theatre Workshop Coulsdon is their true humility regarding the acting profession, and the need to always give of their best. Under Richard Lloyd’s sprightly direction, and his performance as arch-villain Baron Scarheart, complete with accent, this pastiche / spoof / call-it-what-you-will, came alive.
The elderly among us probably did believe, when young, the propagandist British tradition of dauntless courage, always truthful and faithful unto death. TWC, by playing it straight, without a hint of irony, made it extremely funny. We warmed to saintly Dick Barton (Chris Blakeney) and his partial resistance to the feminine wiles of voluptuous Marta Heartburn (Tanya Allison), at The Vipers Nest nightclub. Luke Argles’ working-class Snowy was excellent as an inebriated substitute Barton, dialectically duelling with the Baron. The running gag of whether you were putty, or in Putney, had the audience in hysterics.
Bruce Montgomery’s suave BBC announcer should ensure him a job with the Corporation at any time. Jock was played ‘Scottishly’ by Neil Grew, who could also sing with his accent intact. I liked the ‘Certainly not!’ delivered with utter disdain by Sir Stanley Fritters (Mark Taylor) when Jock asked for the hand of his daughter Daphne (Heidi Bush), letting us know that class and the social divide was still going strong in Post-War Britain.
The ensemble acting was good and the entrances and exits were at lightning speed. The backroom worked hard and the sound and lighting effects were all on cue. The revolving scenery ran smoothly, making for a quick change of scene and venue.
The children loved it, and so did the grown-ups.
Reviewed by Peter Steptoe for The Croydon Advertiser, Friday August 10 2007
