Theatre review: The Last Laugh at Wales Millennium Centre

Rhys John Edwards

If you’d only come across the promotional material for The Last Laugh, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was some sort of cheap comedy tribute act.

The kind you might stumble across in a Benidorm bar, where a bloke who was once told he vaguely resembles Peter Kay is now somehow earning a living screaming “Garlic Bread” into a microphone for an audience numbed enough by Long Island Iced Teas to consider this entertaining.

But this scenario couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, the play could be described as a tribute of sorts, but it offers far more than a simple rehash of a comedian’s best work. It’s a fascinating examination of comedy itself, insightfully explored by a trio of comedy legends – Bob Monkhouse, Tommy Cooper and Eric Morecambe – each bringing to the debate their own distinct idea of what makes something funny.

Balances laughs with poignancy

It’s a production that balances laughs with poignancy, and wrestles with a central question: is comedy an almost scientific art of timing and delivery, or is there an unquantifiable spark? A God-given knack? Do some people just have “funny bones”?

As the story begins, we find our heroes thrown together in a shabby dressing room, which peculiarly neither Cooper, Monkhouse nor Morecambe seem to recognise – yet its worn aesthetic, a backstage reality juxtaposed with a plush fantasy on stage, seems to embody every dressing room they’ve ever been in.

Here, they amuse themselves, trying desperately to outdo each other, and occasionally divert into more personal reflections on their careers and lives.

Simply hilarious

Damian Williams plays Tommy Cooper with that instantly recognisable booming voice. His timing is impeccable, and he has an effortless knack for making any line, or even the smallest physical movement, simply hilarious. He also taps into Cooper’s vulnerability: a man concerned that his gift – one he does not seem to fully understand – might one day vanish as suddenly as it appeared.

Bob Golding is an uncanny Eric Morecambe, capturing both a sprightly comic energy and a measured warmth. His portrayal reveals Eric as someone who understands his own strengths and limits. Touchingly, he is depicted as forever loyal to Ernie Wise, regretful, yet accepting of the opportunities he let pass, and wise enough to know that goodwill from an audience is more valuable than a perfectly honed joke.

For me, though, Simon Cartwright’s Bob Monkhouse is the heart of the production. He perfectly embodies a specific kind of quiet self-doubt, portraying Monkhouse as a man who has built a career on charm and relentless preparation instead of intrinsic talent. In his subtler moments, such as when he politely deflects insults from his companions, and the way in which he casts a shadow of guilt when reflecting on the suicide of his former partner Denis Goodwin, he reveals Monkhouse to be both authentic and magnetic.

Sharp but affectionate

The script by Paul Hendy is sharp but affectionate, with classic gags and references from each man’s career scattered throughout. But the narrative is loose, playing out like one of those contrived interviews you might find on YouTube where Hollywood actors get together to ‘have a catch-up’, but end up casually covering the key highlights of their careers and linking all of these details to their latest movie that just so happens to be out that weekend.

So, there’s no real conflict beyond the trio’s attempt to answer the question of what truly makes something funny, and whether spending their lives in pursuit of laughs was worth the sacrifices such a life demands. The strength of Hendy’s writing lies in how the dialogue studies comedy itself, treating ‘being funny’ as both a learned skill and a mysterious, unteachable quality.

An enduring legacy

There is no definitive answer, of course, but the play leaves us with a moving prospect: regardless of how or why something is funny, the resulting laugh has an enduring legacy beyond the joke that prompted it.

The idea that it is not the comedians who will be remembered, nor the specific punchlines they laboured over, but the fits of giggles and belly laughs that will live on in the audience’s memories.

It will be the memory of seeing this joy reflected in others: the image of loved ones in hysterics watching Morecambe and Wise, Gavin and Stacey – and in theory, even Mrs Brown’s Boys – on Christmas Day.

The Last Laugh is far more than a nostalgic reunion of comedy legends, it’s a thoughtful, and at times tender, meditation on the nature of humour itself.

Blending masterful performances with a script that serves as a love letter to the unexplainable alchemy of a joke, it becomes quite a profound experience – one that thankfully, is unlikely to find its way to top billing on the Benidorm strip.

The Last Laugh is playing at Wales Millennium Centre till 16 August as part of its UK Tour. Further dates and more information can be found at 
https://thelastlaughplay.co.uk/