I just finished reading Born Brilliant, the official biography of Kenneth Williams, and, like many people I assume, I am left with a collective contradiction of emotions and memories that only serve to add flavour to the mystique of one of Britain's most beloved, and obviously most misunderstood, comedic actors.
Pretty much any person born in Britain up to about 20 years ago would be familiar with and have fond memories of the series of Carry On movies and their standard cast of actors and actresses, of which Kenneth Williams is probably one of the two most memorable components, along with the loud-laughing Sid James. In post-WW2 Britain, the Carry On movies, with their blend of baudy British comedy, formed a part of the Collective Psyche of Recovery that propounded an "Up Yours!" to both the English stiff upper lip and those that had been besetting them so recently, and which set the scene for so many memes around the British and sex that laid to rest the hangover of Victorian attitudes that so many still deride today. Famous for their irreverent scripts and their promotion of the "camp" flair that oozed across Britain in the '60s and '70s, the Carry On movies remain firm favourites in the pantheon of British Comedy films.
And yet, while reading Born Brilliant, it becomes obvious that this huge, comedic talent was a massive collection of contradictions that both belie the star on the screen, and yet give credence to the often trooped message that behind every successful comedian there lies a tragic life. Who would have believed, for instance, that the genius of raunchy innuendo started each daily entry in his diaries with a detailed description of his bowel movement, and listed all of the pills and potions and prognoses of his multitude of illnesses - both real and imagined?
It's always entertaining to have our cravings for the "behind the scenes" gossip and situational conflict that comes with a successful ensemble of characters like those that made up the Carry On team over the years. The surreptitious relationships, the secret scandals, the outre contretemps and outrageous repartee loaded with sexual innuendo, are delicious morsels of mischief that are always avidly sort after by the British, with their inexhaustible hunger. And there are huge quantities of these in Born Brilliant, just waiting to titillate the reader. But the real revelations in the book cover Williams's inner emotions, beliefs and attitudes - his obsession with his health, his total dependence on his mother, Louie, his inability to form a deep, personal relationship with anyone, and his strange behaviour, both in public and in private. Michael Parkinson calls him "brutal", and, at times, he was, reducing actresses to tears and friends to anger and despair, cutting associations dead at whim. He would tell the great British public to "Fuck Off!" when they encountered him on the street, and while they laughed and assumed it was "just Kenneth William's way", he actually meant it. Many of his colleagues were amazed to learn, afterwards, that he had actually held them in great disdain, even despised some of them, to say the least. Mind you, some of those feelings, like that between him and Sid James, were mutual, which tells even more what wonderful actors they both were, because that mutual dislike was never allowed to affect their performances together.
In later life, when the series of Carry On movies, the endless radio shows and his continuous successful and not so successful performances in numerous theatrical productions pretty much came to an end, Williams recreated himself as a game and chat show guest, becoming very popular in those roles, and cementing his place as one of the greatest entertainers Britain has ever produced. But he persistently resisted all of the calls to America and Hollywood that would undoubtedly have brought him worldwide fame and an enviable fortune, remaining instead tied to England and north London, living his whole life within a few miles of his birth place, and tracking his income with feverish paranoia, making sure he always had enough money to look after himself and his mam.
Which leaves me with a confused impression of the man. Like most Brits, I love his performances, and will always find them hilarious. Knowing the background behind those makes them even more precious and interesting. But knowing all of that additional background can't help but make me wonder how he ever managed to produce the work he did, and what greatness he might have achieved if he had only had the gumption to stretch himself that little further, and cross the Atlantic when asked to do so. Another aspect of that is the fact that he was treated almost despicably by the Carry On producers, who only paid him a tenth of what they paid actors like Phil Silvers when he starred in one of the films. So typical of the British, getting ripped off again and again by the very people who were supposed to care and nurture them.
Like Kenneth said, "Infamy! Infamy! They've all got it in for me!"
