Raised as a Roman Catholic, he attended Saint Bede's College, before being accepted into Manchester University in 1952 to read English. After a brief involvement with professional football and a year in National Service, he became a teacher.
He was chairman of the Manchester Left Club, and the editor of the Labour Party's Northern Voice newspaper. Gradually he tired of political journalism, began writing plays, and was eventually commissioned by Tony Garnett to provide a script for The Wednesday Play (BBC, 1964–70). The play, "The Love Maniac", was about a teacher, but even though Garnett took the commission with him when he moved to London Weekend Television and formed Kestrel Productions, it was never produced. Buoyed by Garnett's enthusiasm and influenced by the Paris evenements of May 1968, he wrote Occupations, a stage play about Gramsci and the Fiat factory occupations of 1920s Italy.
The play soon brought him to the attention of Kenneth Tynan, the literary manager of the National Theatre who promptly commissioned Griffiths to write the play that became The Party. This critique of the British revolutionary left (featuring the National's artistic director Laurence Olivier in his last stage role as the Glaswegian Trotskyist John Tagg) failed. A series of television plays, such as All Good Men (Play for Today, BBC, 31 January 1974) and Absolute Beginners (BBC, 19 April 1974, in the series Fall of Eagles), followed. He developed this further with his series about parliamentary democracy, Bill Brand (ITV, 1976), which was probably the summation of his dialectic technique.
In the meantime Griffiths returned to the theatre with the Nottingham Playhouse production of Comedians directed by Richard Eyre first performed on 20 February 1975, which later transferred to Broadway. Comedians is set in a school in Manchester, where a bunch of budding comics gather for a final briefing before performing to an agent from London. The play is set in real time, i.e.; as the real time is 7.27, the clock on the wall of the school room also says 7.27. The text of the play was first published in 1976 and is now a popular A-level text.
Griffiths' reputation at the time was such that Warren Beatty reportedly asked him to write a screenplay for project about the US revolutionary John Reed, which eventually became the Oscar-winning film Reds (1981). He also wrote the screenplay for Fatherland, which was directed by Ken Loach.
Griffiths continued to work in the theatre, garnering a notable success with the touring production of Oi for England (ITV, 17 April 1982). His teleplay, Country (BBC, 20 October 1981) was a rarity for Griffiths, a period piece that contained none of the political rhetoric familiar from his earlier works. Griffiths examined the nature of Conservatism through the prism of the 1945 general election. He wrote the television serial, Last Place on Earth (ITV, 1985).
The advent of Thatcher, and the reduced opportunities for a writer of the single play, let alone such a political writer as Griffiths, led him back to the theatre, where he has produced a number of plays over the last fifteen years to varying degrees of commercial and critical success.[citation needed] Griffiths's most recent teleplay, Food for Ravens (BBC, 15 November 1997), was commissioned to mark the 100th anniversary of Aneurin Bevan's birth, but at one point the BBC decided not to network the play, and instead restrict it to Wales.
Short but staggering first read of the year. The set up is simple: an evening class for comedians. An aging stalwart of the scene teaching them. And an upcoming showcase that will potentially lead some of them to the big time. As the stage direction reads: “Adults will return to school and the school will do its sullen best to accommodate them.”
It’s paradoxical, as in some ways the play is dated in its frame of reference - the revered name drops of Frank Carson, George Formby etc. are now less godfathers of comedy than they are distant ancestors, remembered predominantly by specialists and hardcore enthusiasts. Yet in the age of debate over what is ‘unsayable’, the ethical question of the play burns with contemporary urgency.
The central struggle that the group have is to maintain the values that their tutor, Waters, has tried to instil in them, especially when faced with a crowd that isn’t sympathetic to them. Coming at a turning point in 1979, when alternative comedy began its reign and dethroned many of the more ‘traditional’ comics, Waters is a beautifully drawn mediation between two times. He’s a familiar face of the old clubs, but with a social conscience which aligns more closely with the up and coming comics at the dawn of the 80s.
His thesis is that we should be making way for a more thoughtful, more introspective style of comedy. He asks his students: “Do we fear ... other people... so much that we must mark their pain with laughter, our own with tears?” He values laughter as a powerful force, even characterising it as a “bullet” later on in the play.
Challenor, his ex-colleague and now-talent scout begs to differ though, proclaiming: “One thing you’ve gotta learn - people don’t learn, they don’t want to, and if they did, they won’t look to the likes of us to teach ‘em.” Griffiths’ stage for the night becomes not just a contrasting collection of comedians, but a battleground for comic ideology. It asks the question of whether comedy has any social responsibility at all, or if it is indeed a mindless, primal reaction we shouldn’t think about too hard.
One of Griffiths’ most impressive talents is his ability switch the dialogue’s comic tenor dependent on who is speaking and the context. During the first and last acts, the comedy is derived from the naturalistic bustle and banter of the evening class, barbs and gags bouncing between the men. But during the second act, he performs a virtuoso juggling act, delivering several comic monologues for each character which cover the gamut of club styles; observational, music hall, anarchist, and most depressingly prominent, racially charged bigotry. He manages on the page alone to dial up and down the acts to whatever is required dramatically: bombing, flagging or succeeding.
The eventual conclusion is quietly devastating, as the line between comedy and personal conflict becomes harder to distinguish, and Waters’ thesis is put to the test. And as it happened, I found myself remembering something.
A few years ago, I went to see Jimmy Carr do a gig. I’d grown up watching his comedy mainly through viral clips viewed in school lunch breaks with friends, material that at the time seemed taboo breaking and exciting. As I got older, the shock value of that stuff wore off, but I always thought of him as a fairly reliable joke crafter.
But seeing him live was an eye opener about context. There was something exhausting about the disparate succession of shock jock gags flying. Something about the way they were crafted with the aim of being ‘edgy’ but with no real thought driving them beyond a visceral reaction. Something almost mercenary. This isn’t me having a pop at Carr or finding any of the material offensive - I think he’s a talented entertainer overall, but there was a lifelessness to the material when strung together so loosely.
Perhaps more tellingly, there was a moment where he asked the audience, ‘what do you think of Donald Trump?’, clearly with an expectation there would be groans of disapproval. However, amongst the crowd, there were a number of audible cheers and murmurs of appreciation. I’ve no idea whether it took him aback at all, but it stuck with me.
Though I’d previously dismissed any links between comedy and real-life thought as frivolous, it felt like there was some correlation there; a connection between the mentality that laughs at a stereotype joke, and the kind that actively supports using those stereotypes in political rhetoric, as the current US government is doing so effectively to marginalise and divide.
It would be insulting to call Carr’s material easy, as there’s lots of great jokes in his shows - including the one I saw - but when I read Waters’ final monologue, something brought me back to that room and that nagging feeling in the back of my head that something was off about the experience overall.
It’s this sensation that Comedians does such a thorough job picking apart. It is a look at why we laugh, and why the people who make us laugh do it at all. It shows the way in which laughter is a concern of class, of race, of gender and of empathy, even when we try to divorce it from them. To do so without feeling preachy, or overly sensitive, is the mark of a tremendously deft playwright, who can harness multiple comic registers with absolute authenticity.
Oh, and I suppose it’s worth saying - it’s very funny too.
Letto dopo aver scoperto che è alla base del film Kamikazen. L'edizione è ben fatta con introduzione, note e testo a fronte ma rimane difficile godersi un testo teatrale su carta che parla di comicità per di più così legato al mondo e alla lingua inglese. Conclusa la lettura si vorrebbe tornare indietro nel tempo per vedere la rappresentazione teatrale degli anni '80 al teatro Elfo diretta da Gabriele Salvatores.
Read after discovering that inspired the movie Kamikazen. This bilingual edition is well-made with an interesting introduction and notes but it's difficult to really enjoy play so linked to English culture and language. When the reading is over you want a time machine in order to watch Gabriele Salvatores's 1985 Italian production.
Beautifully written play with rich characters and a subtle, tragic message on the cruel world of entertainment, and how we should be more open to diverse & distinct voices in the industry.
While ‘Comedians’ focuses on stand up comics, it is relatable to anyone who has experienced the hard-hitting challenges related to exposing yourself to a group of people, and being rejected.
With a surprisingly heartfelt ending, and not a bad part in the bunch, ‘Comedians’ is a well rounded dramedy that’s definitely worth the read.
I've been using a monologue from this play for over 30 years, as my standard audition piece-and have not read the play itself until know! A seemingly simple piece about a night school class for stand-up comics hides a deep, moving piece on men, the nature of comedy, racism and a whole host of other social issues.
Read this for A-level English Literature, most of my class didn't like it, well, 'get it'. But i actually found it really interesting and clever, good to analyse. Also saw the theatre production which i really enjoyed. If you're interested in political issues and it's place in comedy, without being swarmed with too much politics, it's a good read.
This play seems to be one of those that is a product of its time - very "contemporary" and pertinent when I first read it and saw it performed in the 80's, but now seems a relic of a bygone time.