He is “passionate about free speech”, he said in an interview this week. In particular, he has lately taken a stand against censorship and cancel culture. Like John Cleese, he has become an ex-comedian: you’re far more likely to see him making gloomy pronouncements about the state of the world than raising laughs. It’s a sign of how innocuous he is that even the government of China – the country that in 2018 banned a Winnie the Pooh film for being too political – has welcomed him with open arms.įor Atkinson, “Top Funny Comedian” is a label that – like Mr Bean’s jackets – now looks a bit ill-fitting. Mr Bean’s popularity is enduring – this week brought the news of plans for an animated feature film – and global: the TV show was syndicated to 245 territories worldwide. If reviving him in 2007 for a second Bean film looked a little like a tired cash-grab, the film that came a decade later looked a lot like one: a middle-aged Atkinson dusted down the jacket for Top Funny Comedian (2017), a spin-off to a Chinese TV show, released only in China. He should never have made it to a 10th anniversary, let alone a 30th. No, my problem with that character is that what began as a brief, throwaway sketch has been milked completely dry. Buster Keaton fills me with joy the young Australian Tom Walker’s mime show Very Very (on Amazon) was one of my highlights of 2020. I’m not against Bean because of the slapstick – I love physical comedy. (And since you ask: why yes, I was insufferable.) Trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen small children mumble their way through jokes about late 18th-century politics. This copyright-defying performance actually happened. Specifically the season three episode where Baldrick stands as an MP. I was such a die-hard fan that one year, when I was about 10 years old, I convinced my primary school teachers that the annual Christmas play should be not a traditional Nativity, but Blackadder. I may be alone in this – almost 20 million British TV viewers tuned in to Mr Bean in his pomp – but his gurning has always got on my nerves, and more so in recent years.īean is Rowan Atkinson’s least funny character, and I say that having grown up loving his other work. On Sunday night, the 30th anniversary of the tweed-jacketed clown’s first appearance will be marked by one of those talking heads programmes, where moderately well-known fans (Denise Lewis, Sally Phillips) will sing his praises. Even if you loathe Mr Bean – and there are plenty who do – you can appreciate the work that went into it.It’s Mr Bean’s birthday, and ITV is throwing him a party. “Will they get it in Egypt?” was the constant refrain in rehearsals. People can be sniffy about Mr Bean but the character is loved by viewers of every age (my young children adore him, although they prefer the vastly inferior cartoon version) and in every country. Will he get another outing? “Never say never,” was Atkinson’s response. And there was the promise of more to come. As Curtis said: “It was so mainstream that it never occurred to people that what they were watching was a unique piece of genius by an irreplaceable comedian.”įor collectors of trivia, there were the odd gems, such as Curtis revealing that the Four Weddings and a Funeral scene with Hugh Grant trapped in a hotel bedroom cupboard was originally an idea for a Mr Bean sketch. Re-watching them here was fun, but the documentary was more than just a jolly hour Atkinson takes his comedy seriously, and the programme treated its audience with intelligence as it dissected what made Mr Bean great. Some of the skits were perfection: the lunchtime sandwich on a park bench, the terror at the top of a diving board. Only 15 episodes of the series were ever made. It also gave credit to Robin Driscoll, who co-wrote many of the episodes, and Howard Goodall, the composer. This programme also featured Richard Curtis, who began developing the character with Atkinson while they were at Oxford University and went on to co-create the sitcom. Mr Bean made his debut 30 years ago on ITV, and the broadcaster didn’t want to let the anniversary go by without reminding us where this global phenomenon began. “The desire to challenge, to undermine, to do what he wants to do, not what people expect you to do – that’s definitely a big part of me.” In this rare television interview – Atkinson is notoriously private – the comic actor admitted that he has quite a lot in common with his character. Atkinson’s face, and his ability to make it do those rubbery contortions, is an essential component of Mr Bean. It’s an easy mistake for the public to make, though. The only problem with that, as Rowan Atkinson revealed in Happy Birthday Mr Bean (ITV), is that he wasn’t actually playing Mr Bean: “It was just me being silly.” The YouTube video “Mr Bean Live Performance at the London 2012 Olympic Games” has been viewed 70 million times.
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