Victoria Wood

by Neil Brandwood

  In her 1990 act Victoria did a routine about discovering she was pregnant and so a routine about the birth was a natural progression for the 1993 show. She started with the ante-natal class, which perfectly suited her central theme of reality being different to what we are told to expect. The audience was not spared the graphic detail of the agony of childbirth: the haemorrhoids that weigh more than the baby, vaginal stitches, pelvic floor exercises and the way in which babies completely change the life of a mother.

  Elsewhere in the show there was the familiar multi-charactered routine which this time saw Victoria juggling characters and events at a wedding. There was also the usual attack on political correctness, with the anti-sexist and anti-circus lobby as the target when Victoria described a visit to ‘Wilhelmina Smart’s Equal Opportunities Politically Correct Big Top’, the highlight of which was two women in pinafore dresses; one said she was going to jump through a hoop, the other said she didn’t have to if she didn’t feel up to it.

  Once again Victoria entered the political arena from a suburban perspective. Norma Major was described as ‘the sort of woman who has a separate J-cloth for each bath tap’ and Victoria remarked of male MPs: ‘Never mind the balance of trade figures, a bit of Head & Shoulders wouldn’t come amiss.’

  Monologue-wise there were two new characters. Madeline was a Northern hairdresser and Madge was an aerobics instructor giving a low impact class for Fatties with Attitude (‘Fattitude’). Visually arresting in clinging pink shorts and a vibrant floral leotard with excessive padding, Victoria used the physical humour of the aerobic routine for maximum effect. It was the character’s lack of self-awareness that was most amusing (‘There is a point with skinny when it can tip over onto scrawny. And I should know because I am dangerously near it myself.’) Brilliantly observed, Victoria captured the cod scientific qualifications of such instructors – the ‘glutonius maxitive’, we are told, is the largest muscle and is connected directly to the brain; the hormone produced by an aerobic workout is ‘phenophonabibametamorphonal’.

  Victoria never felt any strong allegiance with her fellow comedians and to her the fact that the profession had become so high profile and attractive meant unwelcome competition. More and more comics had become stars, selling out stadiums and referring to comedy as the new rock ’n’ roll. Victoria detested such aggrandisement and used the song ‘Feeling In The Mood Tonight’ to register her distaste. Musically very similar to ‘Don’t Get Cocky Baby’ in Nearly A Happy Ending, it was a blisteringly savage, ego-puncturing attack. Comedy, Victoria sang with mock gravity, was rough and raw, it exposed pain. Witheringly, the boasts were juxtaposed with blunt reality.

  Comedians are tough and hard

  We’ve all been hurt, we’ve all been scarred

  We all do ads for Barclaycard

  she deadpanned and continued to put things into perspective with the lines:

  We’re so brave at what we do

  Bomb disposal’s tricky too.

  ‘Go With It’ followed in the tradition of ‘Bored With This’, ‘Don’t Do It’, ‘Live For Now’ and ‘Bastards’. It was another song about self-determination, dream-chasing, ambition, effort and the importance of not settling for less. Underlying it was a seam of melancholy, a poignant reminder of Victoria’s early days when it seemed she might not realise her own dreams.

  ‘Isn’t it a pity life was planned by a committee while the clever ones had popped out to the lav?’ sang Victoria in the final song of the show. It was a comical number about the madness of existence (‘We’re only here cos an egg meets a sperm and then grows blobs on’). Birth, breathing, eating and dying were all ‘barmy’ to Victoria, who quoted Sartre along the way. Faced with such weighty issues, her ‘reasoned, sane, thought-out response is Bum! Bum! Bum!’

  Stanley Wood had always made a point of seeing each of his daughter’s new shows and had intended to witness her proudest moment when she played the Royal Albert Hall. But by the time the show arrived in the capital his mental condition had deteriorated to such an extent that it was impossible for him to make the trip. Victoria sold out the prestigious venue for fifteen nights during September and October, breaking Eric Clapton’s previous record-breaking run as a solo performer.

  The praise that had been heaped on Victoria in recent years had started to make even her realise she was good at her job. She was respected in her profession, admired by the critics and loved by the public, so when LWT withdrew their offer to make her film it was a humiliating – and very public – blow to her pride and ambition. They felt it was not commercial enough and Victoria was furious. Piqued, she went public with her anger and complained: ‘The people at LWT were so rude. They told my agent they didn’t want my film, but didn’t have the decency to send me a letter. I won’t be doing any more Audiences With Victoria Wood or anything else for them, unless I’m desperate.’

  So personally significant was the project to her that rather than simply abandoning it, as she had with previous screenplays, Victoria bought it back and took it to the BBC. It was purchased by Margaret Matheson, the executive producer for Screen One. The last time she had been at the BBC was in 1978 when, as producer of the Play for Today series, she had been responsible for Scum, Roy Minton’s controversial play. Matheson was also the co-founder of Zenith Productions which had been behind such films as Wish You Were Here, Personal Services and Prick Up Your Ears.

  The BBC could only afford to make a £1 million production and Victoria took a pay cut and resigned herself to a more modest film. But although the corporation had helped her save face, Victoria was not afraid of criticising it. ‘The BBC doesn’t know anything about programmes any more,’ she said. ‘They treat it like a branch of Woolworth’s. You can’t do that with comedy and drama.’ Ironically for someone whose act was so dependent on brand names, one of the main reasons why Victoria remained loyal to the BBC was the absence of commercial breaks.

  Trauma of a different kind occurred on 13 November 1993, when Victoria’s father died. Stanley passed away in Bury General Hospital of bronchopneumonia and coronary heart disease. Sadly, Victoria could not be there as she was touring. ‘I think the heart attack was lucky, because at some point he would have had to go in a home,’ she reflected.

  The death of her father was the first time she had encountered mortality on such a close personal level and it may have caused Victoria to start worrying about Geoffrey. She had often proclaimed that weight was irrelevant, but at more than 20 stone, Geoffrey’s health was in danger. Unlike the children, he had resisted Victoria’s vegetarian diet, but he did pay attention when his worried wife urged him to attend the Weigh Ahead course run by Glasgow doctor Cherie Martin, who believed that dieting made people fat, not thin. It was certainly the case for Geoffrey who had attempted diets since the age of seven. Each time he tried a new diet he lost weight for a while, then piled it back on.

  Victoria and Geoffrey had an agreement whereby they would work alternate years, allowing them to advance their individual careers and enjoy a satisfying domestic life with the children. Although 1994 had been designated as Geoffrey’s year, the filming of Pat and Margaret meant Victoria once again took precedence. ‘You cannot be sure when you will fall out of favour’, was how she justified it.

  Filming commenced in May and took up most of the summer. The casting, as always, included Victoria’s repertory company of Walters, Imrie, Preston and Reid. There were also parts for the loyal Deborah Grant, Frances Cox, Sue Wallace and Roger Brierley. It was Victoria’s first serious acting role for fourteen years and she obviously relished it because she publicly expressed a desire to play more straight roles, something that she considered herself to be incapable of in the past.

  The film starts with motorway services cafeteria worker Margaret Mottershead and her colleagues embarking on a coach trip to Peacock Studios in London for the filming of Magic Moments, a Surprise Surprise-style show. The show’s special guest is Pat Bedford (Walters), a Joan Collins-type actress who
is queen of the American soap, Glamor.

  The surprise is that Pat and Margaret are sisters who have been separated for 27 years. They are reunited on air, much to the interest of journalist Stella Kincaid (Deborah Grant) who is writing a book about Pat. Vera, a pensioner in a Northern old folks’ home is also watching and she tells a member of staff that she is Pat’s mother.

  Pat quickly makes it clear to Margaret that she wants nothing to do with her and tells her to leave. Wandering the studio corridors, Margaret meets Pat’s personal assistant, Claire (Imrie), who, not knowing Pat’s mood, jollily bundles Margaret along to the hospitality suite. Because Margaret misses her coach home she is put up at the swanky Regent Hotel with Pat. She attempts to make conversation and reveals that she too is not exactly overjoyed by the reunion. Pat can barely bring herself to speak to her sister. The following morning Margaret phones her boyfriend, Jim (Preston), to explain what had happened but his dominating mother takes the call and does not pass on the message.

  Margaret makes another attempt to bond with Pat but is appalled when Pat offers her a cheque to sign a document denying kinship. Margaret is about to leave when the crew arrives to make the Magic Moments follow-up film and cover the press conference.

  Stella meanwhile, has a phone call which informs her that their mother is in an old folks’ home and she heads up North to investigate. Margaret’s boss, Bella (Lynda Rooke), tells Stella she is unhappy with Margaret for leaving her in the lurch and Jim’s mother is also interviewed and uses the opportunity to try and put Jim off Margaret. Stella also meets up with a news stringer who tells her the story of a local couple who built a Spanish apartment complex over a chemical dump which resulted in local people losing their life savings.

  Back in London Pat realises the positive public relations opportunities the reunion offers. When the newspapers come out Margaret and Bella are disgusted at the way their words have been twisted. Jim is also upset about what Margaret has purportedly said and decides to drive down to London to see his girlfriend. Margaret’s reaction is similar and she decides to drive up North to explain. Pat is horrified when she spots a small article about her mother, Vera. Fearing that Vera will ruin her reputation, she joins Margaret on the trip north, determined to find Vera before Stella does. They find the nursing home but the Vera there is not their mother; she is a senile fantasist.

  Jim arrives in London and meets Claire who explains that he has missed Margaret, and they both travel up North together.

  Stella tracks down the woman responsible for the Spanish apartments fiasco, while Pat and Margaret attempt to find accommodation for the night. They end up at Margaret’s bedsit. We learn that Pat was thrown out of the house when she became pregnant at 15 and Vera lied to Margaret that she had run away. Pat did return but there was no one at the house. Vera’s prostitution had got her into serious trouble with the law and Margaret was fostered out.

  Jim arrives at the wrong moment and tired, confused and emotionally mixed up, Margaret snaps at him and ends the relationship.

  Pat and Margaret go for a meal at the cafe of their youth where they meet up with Claire who passes on a note from ‘a fan’ (Stella). The note directs them to the home of the property developer, who is in actual fact their mother. Vera (Shirley Stelfox) is unrepentant about her treatment of them and during a verbal confrontation she makes it clear that she never loved them. Stella arrives on cue with her photographer and Pat anticipates it will be her downfall – until it dawns on her and Stella that far from destroying her career, it has all the makings of a bestseller and mini-series, providing Vera can be tied down to an exclusive contract. Margaret makes it up with Bella and Jim, who finally stands up to his mother.

  At the airport Pat is preparing to fly back to LA. Margaret cannot be persuaded to join her even though Pat says she needs her. In the VIP lounge Pat is sitting with Vera and it emerges that she will be staying with Pat in Hollywood. Reading a magazine article Pat casually remarks that mothers of celebrities are currently very popular. She winces when she realises the implications.

  The film ends with Margaret and Jim tidying up Margaret’s childhood cafe, which Pat has bought them.

  ‘Margaret’s all the people who don’t have a voice, who don’t have money, who don’t have any way of getting themselves up the ladder,’ explained Victoria. ‘My sympathies lie naturally with people like Margaret, people without money or wonderful gifts, the general mass of people who spend their lives swimming desperately just to keep afloat. And I suppose that, if I’m honest, there is a part of me that feels, or rather felt, very vulnerable and patronised and this is my way of showing that side of myself.’

  It was inevitable that she would play the part herself. Victoria had always been interested in exploring the lives of those who, through circumstance, were unable to move very far from the world into which they were born. This was particularly evident in Bren, the character she would later play in the situation comedy dinnerladies, and in the many songs where she inhabited the lives of the less fortunate. However, she was evasive when asked whether she felt relief or regret at never having experienced such lives first hand. Indeed, across her work there is a sense that she had somehow missed out on ‘real life’. It was the ultimate irony that the woman who was deemed a representative of the masses only once had a ‘normal’ job, and that was a brief spell as a barmaid at university. By the time of Pat and Margaret, Victoria had been famous for almost as many years as she had been anonymous and she was honest enough to admit that she shared some of Pat’s personality. In essence the film illustrated the two sides of herself. ‘It was both me. It was that battle between the one who can never get on, a sort of impotent person, and the one who’s so determined to get on there’s no room for anything else.’

  Refusing to stay in a certain hotel because it ‘looked like a brothel’, attempting to suppress the publication of unflattering school photographs, reacting haughtily and humourlessly to a doorstep prank by Punch, ignoring her personal driver (‘she doesn’t expect to be spoken to’) were all examples of the ‘Pat’ in Victoria.

  Like Pat, Victoria used the unhappy past as a receptacle for the negativity in her life. Pat buried it, whereas Victoria, who described her younger self as a dirty, smelly liar and thief, looked back with a detached satisfaction; it was behind her. The steely twosome were both determined never to experience such a life again and used their personal histories to remind themselves how successful and removed from such misery their present was.

  Identity and maternalism are the two central themes of the film. Pat cannot function without the trappings of fame. She sees herself not as a person, but as an icon and a business (‘Pat Bedford Inc’). She can exist only through the media and her identity is dependent on the press (‘I, sexy yet vulnerable, and I’m quoting from Harper’s here’), a worshipping public and superficial externalities (‘I’m Knightsbridge, I’m grooming, I’m camisoles’). In Pat’s language it is possible to see how the image has run away with the reality. She tries to use a sophisticated vocabulary to match her image, but it does not come naturally and she ends up speaking unintelligible nonsense (‘there’s been somewhat of a virago’, ‘thanks to your umbilical incompetence’, ‘the sooner you get a grip on that factum, the more likely you’ll do so’).

  Because Pat lives in a world of exteriors, physicality is of utmost importance to her. Her spirits are raised by a flattering photograph of her legs and depressed by worries about a sagging chin. Her horror at being linked to a Northern waitress is matched by worries about how Margaret’s appearance (‘a woman whose buttocks practically skim the carpet’) may reflect on her. The importance of the physical to Pat is further demonstrated in her journey to her original self. So strongly has she blocked her past that she actually has to see the unmarried mothers’ home and her childhood home in order to further the ‘healing’ process.

  Physicality of place is also important. A motorway services kitchen is contrasted with the International Arrivals H
all of Heathrow; a small bedsit with the presidential suite of the Regent Hotel; the North with the South. And as well as the internal journeys which the characters have to make, the film abounds with frantic cross-country dashes. The soulless television studio, devoid of an audience, echoes Pat’s cold-heartedness when she first tells Margaret to get out of her life. And the scene where Margaret is trapped in the studio building, frantically banging on the window to her unseeing friends, is a symbol of how Margaret, like Pat, is trapped in an unnatural situation that removes her from her world.

  To maintain her image Pat has to be in total control, irrespective of the truth. She pretends that Margaret is not her sister, that her mother is dead and that she never had a child. Canute-like, she tries to have a live television programme edited. At one point Margaret tells her: ‘It’s a pity I live in real life and not your imagination.’ Real life was a recurrent theme in Victoria’s work.

  In Hollywood Pat had disguised her background in order to assimilate, and when she travels back to her origins she has to disguise herself in order to fit in. The denial of her self leaves her with no secure identity and no ‘home’ and to regain this she has to be stripped of the falseness. This is achieved by the various humiliations she is subjected to which bring her closer and closer to her real self. It starts in London with the embarrassing public revelation that Margaret is her sister. Pat, who is first seen being fêted at Heathrow Airport, soon finds herself waiting by the Ladies’ at a motorway service station, drenched with a hose, forced to wear a shell suit and denied access to a Northern hotel. She has to physically return to her humiliating family home and the degradation of the unmarried mothers’ home to fully complete her ‘cure’.

  The theme of identity is also reflected in the part food plays in the film. Pat the Star’s diet includes organic grape juice, herb tea, champagne, skinless chicken and mango. Margaret, who is ‘in chips’ doesn’t like croissants. Victoria, who used to gorge on junk food and praised the merits of chip butties, named wholemeal bread with avocado, tomato, cucumber and alfalfa sprouts as her favourite sandwich. She ate organic food, sipped peppermint tea and raved about the potassium-giving benefits of bananas.