There’s a very fine line between lovely and lovey. Sir Tony Robinson knows exactly how to find that line, and stay just on the right side of it.
In an hour and a half of what was billed as conversation, but which—inevitably, really; the man’s quite the talker—essentially involved Robinson taking cues from Louise Adler, the Australian publishing figure who was Robinson’s straight-person for the night. So the first half of the show was a simple run through his life and career, but it was a departure from the “two people sitting across from each other with one of them telling stories” format that we’ve seen in, for example, most recently Stewart Copeland’s shows in Auckland and Wellington. For a start, Robinson simply can’t sit still. At 79—”80 in August,” he reminded us—the man is possessed of more energy than most people half his age. From the moment he bounded, Tigger-like energy to the fore, onto the stage, he was animated, excited to tell his stories, stories about his parents in the War, stories about being selected to appear in Oliver!, stories about attending stage school. And, obviously, because this is Tony Robinson, stories about the genesis and evolution of Baldrick, the role he will ever be tied to.
And this endless energy is a function of the joy Robinson clearly finds in what he does, and this is what made last night’s show so, frankly, lovely. He is so utterly ingenuous in his storytelling, so openly delighted with what life has given him, that it’s impossible not to have a huge smile on your face as you sit and listen to him tales of how he got, then lost, then got again the part of Baldrick in The Black Adder. And so it’s only natural that when one of his tales hit a punchline, that smile would translate into laughter. It was just that kind of evening.
So yes, lovely. But also no, not lovey. It’s impossible to tell a story of a career like Robinson’s and not have a few names to drop, and he did, understandably, mention the likes of Judi Dench who were his near-contemporaries at the Central School of Speech and Drama. And, since this is Baldrick we’re dealing with, there were a couple of stories involving “Rowan,” but so disarming is the effortless charm Robinson brings to his storytelling that it felt natural, not forced.
The bulk of the second half of the show was dedicated to Robinson’s new novel, The House of Wolf. We had a brief reading—Robinson delivered the prologue to the book—and a large discourse on Alfred the Great and Anglo-Saxon England. These have the potential to be dry and possibly even boring in the wrong hands; Robinson brings such utter passion and joy to, well, just about anything he talks about that it’s impossible not to be swept up in his enthusiasm.
And it’s this enthusiasm that sends Robinson off on tangents so often that he frequently had to ask Adler “Sorry, what was the question again?” before at least trying to get back on track. There was, mind, one notable exception, the rather heartbreaking tale of Hollyberry, the dog he adopted during lockdown and who he spoke of with the most innocent affection.
Jeremy and I had the great good fortune to have a chat with Tony Robinson a couple of months ago, as part of the promo work for this tour. And we were lucky enough to get a preview of what to expect last night—a warm, funny, genuine individual with stories to tell and the most honest sense of gratitude for where he’s found himself.