Richard Briers: A Tribute

-Sit fast.

-'Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Richard Briers.'

APPLAUSE

'Is he havin' a laugh?'

Hup!

I will be point device!

This business is well ended.

Three cream cakes!

My case is proved!

No.

They're decent sociable fellows, so why upset them?

Nice bit of thigh!

LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE

Now listen, this should be interesting.

Richard David Briers was born on the 14th of January, 1934,

in the South London suburb of Raynes Park.

I completely struck on theatre from an early age.

At school, I was totally hopeless.

I was a show-off and used to mimic the teachers,

the usual thing young, budding actors do.

So I ended up without a single O-level and became

a clerk at 16 years old, making the tea, the lowest of the low.

And boredom, boredom, boredom. Terribly bored.

I met Richard doing National Service. He was a clerk personnel.

I was supposed to be clerk organisation.

We were both pretty terrible.

But he was more terrible than me.

I discovered that he was interested in acting.

We went back to his house every weekend and we would go

through all the plays of Shakespeare playing all the principal roles.

And he has always sworn that it was my fault,

I encouraged him to become a professional actor.

After completing National Service

and determined not to return to the world of filing,

Richard sought advice from a distant cousin, the actor Terry Thomas,

who suggested he pursue his passion at drama school.

In 1954, he was accepted at RADA where his contemporaries

included Albert Finney and Peter O'Toole.

I realised people like O'Toole and Finney were far away going to

lead, and I didn't know quite how I'd manage at all.

Kitchen sink had arrived and I thought I was already almost old-fashioned because I was

still tennis racket in hand, coming in through the French windows.

Dickie used to send himself up about literally the times when he started his career

by walking through the double doors and going, "Anyone for tennis?"

Being bright and innocent. But there was always something there, even if

it was a kind of nerviness, he always had that energy,

that kind of high revving engine.

He did a Hamlet. I saw it.

He was all right in tights, not the finest legs.

Not many actors have, they usually have to get padded.

He loved the words. He loved them so much, he went at a speed of knots.

He used to talk about his Hamlet as being the fastest ever Hamlet,

which I can well believe. Very, very fast.

Cos he does speak... You know, he doesn't hang about.

After leaving RADA, Richard began honing his acting skills

at repertory theatres around the country.

I used to go to the Belgrade Theatre in Coventry

and I remember two actors very distinctly.

One was Frank Finlay, of course still with us,

and the other was Richard Briers.

I just remember Richard Briers having this sort of light darting,

quicksilver sort of feathery presence on stage

and sort of making a mental note, I thought, here is

someone who is very precise and very distinctive.

It was while treading the boards in rep that he met actress Ann Davies.

He went off to RADA and came back a fully-fledged actor with a wife.

He moved like the speed of lightning.

As well as getting the words out fast,

he busted through life, as well.

I met him on a film called Girl In A Boat in the '60s, early '60s.

Thankfully, it sunk without trace

because it probably was one of the worst films ever made.

I say, steady on!

The man on the subway!

-The girl with the elephant gun.

-You remember me!

'I can't even remember about the film.'

I can only remember meeting Richard was a joy for the rest of my life.

And at the time, he hadn't long been married to Annie and I remember being fascinated.

I hadn't met Annie at that stage and every night,

he couldn't wait to get home. He was so loving domesticity.

We saw him in a very forgettable play called Guilt And Gingerbread.

And at the time,

we were writing a series called The Seven Faces Of Jim,

starring Jimmy Edwards, and we asked Richard if he would do one.

And he was so spot on. But he ended up in four of those episodes.

How long is it before my relief arrives?

Eight months.

Time crawls, doesn't it?

-Aye.

-When was it I got here?

Half past six.

'He had the timing'

and the imaginative use of the character that you'd booked him

to portray.

And all his suggestions were worth listening to.

This, from a youngster, really a youngster.

So impressed were Muir and Norden,

they cast Richard in their next project, a series about a newly

qualified barrister struggling with the complexities of the courtroom.

It was Richard's first leading role on television.

One of the reasons Richard was so good in that role was believability.

You believed him.

It was that conviction that shored up his performance.

Your honour, I ask for judgement for the agreed damages of £100 and costs!

He was a real television comic actor.

And his next TV role was to prove just that.

I quite like the bedroom!

-Those curtains?

-I don't think we can touch those, darling.

-Can't we?

No, they're sort of a fixture, you see.

He had a special gift and timing, of course, is very important

and he could work at enormous speed.

There are plenty to be had at very reasonable prices and if you want

us to go on paying your price, you will have to do something about it!

Of course I'll do something about it, Mr Starling.

What? Oh. Well, good, because quite frankly...

I'll give you a fortnight's notice.

In Marriage Lines, he was this sweet young man,

sort of trying to do his best and constantly getting it wrong.

And you never thought, "Oh, for God's sake!"

You always had this kind of aching desire for him to pull through

and I think that was rather an extraordinary

quality at the centre of his work.

George, what's the matter?

Cartwright put an extra guinea on the rent.

He's... He's what you call a pusher.

Eight guineas a week?

'I was just married by then'

and then I got pregnant, expecting our first son.

-How did you sleep?

-Like a log.

-Oh, did you? Splendid!

Darling, babies keep you awake after they're born.

It's not too bad before.

'So, our son Sam's first appearance on TV'

was in utero! And we had to write him in.

I was just thinking. This time next year,

I'll be putting on a red dressing gown with a cotton wool beard.

'My father no doubt would have told you'

about when I was being born

and him taking a whisky off Richard just across the road, saying,

"Isn't it dreadful what these women have to go through?

"Yes, I will have another, if you don't mind."

And getting quite pissed with Richard and nearly missing my birth.

And Richard is his godfather because he looked after us

so nicely when I was expecting.

By the late 1960s, Richard and Ann had two daughters of their own.

Family life was combined with a thriving career on stage and TV.

In 1967, he was cast in the debut West End

production of an emerging young playwright.

My first impressions of Dickie was the first day of rehearsals

for Relatively Speaking, which was the first of my plays he was in.

So I turned up a bit late, a very young author,

and I was very nervous.

It was a very high-powered cast and Dickie was among them.

Michael Hordern, Celia Johnson and Jennifer Hilary were the others.

And he was so welcoming

and he realised that that character was based, quite a lot of it, on me.

And he kept staring at me

and I could catch him staring at me across the room!

"That's how he stands!"

And I said, "He's not all me, Dickie.

"There's quite a lot of fiction in there."

He'd go, "Yes, but it's a good start."

Relatively Speaking marked the start of an Ayckbourn-Briers

collaboration that flourished throughout the 1960s and '70s.

One of the pieces of work I did with him was Absurd Person Singular

and the part that he played was this little ordinary man

who suddenly becomes very powerful and eventually rules over them.

And he was malevolent and terrifying. Hugely funny.

I used to have to play back to back because I couldn't look at him, he made me laugh so much.

He turned into this little weasel of a man, hating everybody

and getting aggressive.

And that was what was so incredibly funny.

He was utterly truthful and there was a dark side in him that he

could use.

He recognised what I wrote very quickly.

His instincts were always right.

When to speed up and when to slow down.

When to leave that moment and when to really darken.

The choices of the darker tempos he used, he was a true interpreter.

These polished performances portraying the middle classes

were to stand Richard in good stead when in 1975,

he was offered the lead in a brand new BBC sitcom.

Richard was very apologetic early on, saying,

"Look, darlings, this probably won't run like my other series that

"go on for ever because the subject is quite frankly a bit odd."

And it was, for the 1970s.

The novel concept of one couple's attempts at self-sufficiency

in the unlikely setting of Surbiton.

And those were the days that vegetarians were weird

and brown bread was a bit suspect.

And certainly, you know, organic?! Are you insane?

But we did it because we all really fell in love with the script.

The "Ooh Aah Bird" is so called because it lays square eggs.

LAUGHTER

I don't understand.

Good.

We never felt, oh, this is it.

Any of us.

And there wasn't the same sort of pressure to be a success.

We didn't think, "Oh, this will make us," or this, that and the other.

And I remember talking to John Howard Davies about it,

our lovely director, and he said apparently the notices,

when they did come out, were pretty awful.

Morning, Tom.

You had to have someone who could reasonably make you believe

that somebody would be that fanatical enough

and able to persuade his wife that he would be able to

enable them to survive by digging up their garden

and planting carrots, or whatever.

It'll be just us. Doing it for us.

What do you think?

Eh?

'That's not an easy thing to convey,'

but Richard managed to convey the enthusiasm and the knowledge

and the fun aspects of that person into one character, which is

very compulsive, I think.

-Get this on there and we'll be there.

-Tom?

-Yeah.

Do I look nice?

Well, you always look nice, love.

-Yes, I know. Particularly at this moment?

-Why?

Richard always said he thought he was a kind of selfish, stuck-up

guy, but I think in someone else's hands, that would have happened.

-Well?

-Yeah, very nice. I'd get changed if I were you.

You don't want to get it dirty down the cellar.

But Richard had this great unused and unknown word now - charm.

-Margot?

-Yes.

-Thanks, sexy.

Don't be silly!

He had this quality, as Tom in The Good Life, of just coming in

and having that little...naughty thing with his eyes.

And he'd look away, the infinitesimal look away,

that was just fantastically funny.

And I'll tell you something else. You've got a very sexy neck.

Don't be silly.

You've never seen my neck.

I'm looking at it now, Margot.

Are you?

Yes, and it's very sexy.

APPROACHING LAUGHTER

He was an absolute...perfectionist when it came to timing.

A lot of it was craft, learnt, and also a lot of it was instinct.

He had this beautiful voice.

But he could get a laugh reading a telephone directory.

OK, sweethearts, nobody moves.

His delivery was magnificent.

He had such vocal energy like almost nobody

I can think of that worked a treat.

-I haven't got a sense of humour.

-Don't you worry!

I'll go and get you one!

And a quartet of actors who were second to none.

They played together, properly played. They're players in that.

And they all interact with one another brilliantly.

Well, that's that sorted out. Good evening, Jerry.

Good evening, Margot.

-Good evening, Barbara. Good evening, Tom.

-Good evening, Margot.

-Good evening, Margot. Good evening, Jerry.

-Good evening, Barbara.

Good evening, Jerry.

We couldn't wait to get in there for the next

rehearsal on the Tuesday, we'd usually have the Monday off.

And we would stick together, we would eat together, talk together.

There was very little that was going on in our personal

lives that we all didn't know.

'For some reason or other, this became a little family unit.'

Ah!

Well, I expect you'd like us to stay to dinner.

-You've certainly got a cheek. Margot?

-Why not?

I think I can stretch my pasta.

-Are you going to make a joke, Tom?

-No.

He got on incredibly well with Paul. These two were a double act.

It was Morecambe and Wise, you know.

Penny and I would be having our make-up done and these two would be at it next-door.

You're supposed to mow round those.

And the lipstick would be going here and the eyelashes were stuck here, cos you couldn't keep still.

This was 7am. And Dickie would be complaining cos he'd "had too many ports last night, darling.

"I can't. My head doesn't work. I can't remember anything. Don't come near me with the mascara.

"No, no!" And all this was going on,

but in itself, the way he did it was hysterical.

Despite The Good Life's huge success,

and the cast's chemistry, the role of Tom didn't always

come as effortlessly to Richard as it appeared on screen.

Terrified. Every day, "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wish we'd stop!"

I'm just going to pop back there and have a quick shake and... LAUGHTER

I think it was probably the pressure.

For someone like Richard, who's been more and more successful,

and if you heard people say, "I'm looking forward to it," that puts

a pressure on you as an actor and he was quite a nervous performer, quite a nervous actor.

There are so many things to go wrong.

Would you come over here and talk through this properly?

Let's get it sorted out once and for all. Go over there and sit!

Will you sit?

He did make an awful fuss.

No, Lenin! No!

No, Lenin!

'He had to hold a chicken once. "No, no, no!'

"I can't!" Then he would do the scene

as if he knew everything about chickens, from top to bottom.

Fares, please.

One and a cockerel to the next stop, please.

And then as soon as it was over, he was, "Oh, my God!

"Oh, darling, that was terrible! Take it away!"

I don't quite know whether some of that wasn't him

just being silly, being sort of larky.

Now, look here, you...

We very often were planting things in the freezing cold

and though he had a garden and loved it, with the mud, "Oh! Look!

"I'm all muddy, darling! It's so terrible and it's cold!"

And that's what he was like.

The idea of him having a smallholding, the mind boggles!

We all watched it, everyone watched it. What they now call the water-cooler moment

when you talk about the last episode.

I've only ever really known that for about three shows in my life.

One of them was The Good Life.

-Oh, Margot!

-It's true!

-No, it's not true! It's not true!

Margot, whatever anyone says, you are funny.

If you look at The Good Life, it is still terribly funny.

And for me, that tells you how modern his acting was.

-You haven't been fishing for ages.

-I haven't got time for all that.

You're not as much fun as you used to be, Tom.

Shouldn't have married me then, should you?

He understood this thing that comedy was only funny if it was real.

And if you didn't believe in the predicament of the people, it wouldn't be funny.

Just as it wouldn't be tragic, it wouldn't be anything.

-Oh, my God! Drive on.

-But they don't know the way to the pub.

-I know!

Drive on!

'We were all really sad when it ended.'

Up until when Paul died, we really were in very close touch

and we would go on and on... You know...

On into the night, having far too much to drink.

And...socialising with each other.

We knew it was good. We knew we worked well together

and that's not something you feel often as an actor, to be honest.

THEY SCREAM

'You can act lots and lots of things. You can act murder, happiness, sadness,'

God knows what, but you can't act your enjoyment, your inner enjoyment of it.

And that's certainly what we had on that show. And that came an awful lot from Richard.

He would talk about the fact that

with The Good Life that he felt it had trapped him.

That was all he ever said to me about it, that he

felt it had trapped people's perception of him

and that he didn't want to be thought of only as a light comedian.

I remember when I first met Richard very well.

He was sitting at a table.

In front of him was a copy of Time Out and he was swearing at it.

And saying, "Up yours, Time Out! I've got money in the bank,

"so I don't care what you say!"

That was my first meeting with Richard Briers. I think I was expecting the avuncular

figure of The Marriage Lines and Tom Good and what I got was this

rather comical curmudgeon, which wasn't what I was expecting at all.

He didn't know how to be not generous.

He didn't know how to be completely open.

That's just his nature, that's how he was.

I don't want to make him out to be a saint

because he could be irascible.

Kindness...naughtiness.

And although I don't want to break the illusions of the Great British public,

inappropriate and behind the scenes moments, swearing,

which Dickie was capable of in a fantastically inventive

and delicious way.

The one big thing about Richard was he was incredibly funny,

even when he was in a terrible rage.

I'm a bit left-leaning in my politics.

We used to have discussions and Richard used to get more and more

right of Genghis Khan by the time he'd finished!

He would be shouting with rage at my idiocy, you know,

but we were both laughing at the same time.

I was certainly laughing at him!

So far from this image of the light comic, beautiful, lovely,

kindly guy.

He was those things, he was kindly, certainly,

but he was also ferocious.

He was so brilliant as Tom that one

could mistake it for being him.

And though he was loving and sweet and funny

and outrageous to all of us when we were filming,

if it wasn't right and he had absolutely no time for people who

weren't either on time or learned their lines or weren't professional,

he absolutely... he was stern, strict.

I mean, not Tom Good at all.

Eager to shrug off the shadow of Tom Good, Richard returned to

the stage, stretching his dramatic range with darker roles.

-Were there lots of people there, Dad?

-Who were they all, that lot?

Oh, all sorts. Mr Flor, a kind of high official, Mr Kaspersen,

a gentleman of distinction, Mr...whatsisname.

I really can't remember.

First time I ever saw Ibsen as funny.

He just made the King of Gloom... We thought, "Ibsen, oh, God, no!

"A real bad evening." I only went because of Dickie.

I don't know why it's always me who's supposed to provide entertainment

when I get asked out once in a while. Let someone else make the effort.

Their sort goes from one party to the other. They even drink all day long.

Well, let them dash well make themselves useful in return for all the good food they get.

We had dinner afterwards and I said, "Gosh, you've just

"opened my eyes to Ibsen." He said, "It's really hard work, old love.

"I mean, they're all waiting for me to pull on Wellington boots!"

In 1984, Richard returned to sitcom.

-Are you untangling the phone again, Martin?

-Won't take a tick.

-Could you leave it? Our new neighbour's here.

-Oh, right.

'Richard loved playing Martin'

because he wasn't such a sort of gung-ho good old chap

as he's always played.

In Ever Decreasing Circles, Martin was the self-appointed

leader of his local community.

We're all downstairs, Martin.

Two out of ten on arithmetic cos I'm still up here!

Tollerated by his long-suffering wife...

-35 all right for lunch, love?

-Yes, I'm roasting an ostrich.

-Lovely.

..admired by his sartorially coordinated neighbours...

Cheer up, Martin. Sunday tomorrow. You said you were going to clean out all your gutters.

..and whose role was diminished by the arrival in the close of a suave bachelor...

-Hello, Martin.

-..who could outshine him in every way.

We have got a problem about finding a new band.

Unless Andre Previn is a mate of yours!

I've never met him. I do know Johnny Dankworth, though.

He found his terribleness terribly funny.

My father spoke to Caruso once!

He was the complete opposite as a person.

Martin had this terrible thing of keeping everything in its place

and having the telephone round the right way

and things that drove everyone else mad.

This is another remarkable thing about Dickie, I think,

as an actor and as a performer.

A part that on paper seemed to be...sort of insufferable.

I've taken the liberty of getting Keith and Renata to send me

a sample menu, copies of which you will find as Appendix B.

Would you all turn to Appendix B, please?

'You think, "God, this is a really unattractive character.

'"And it's not even very funny when you read it."'

But then in Dickie's hands,

it started to develop into a magical character.

You see that woman there?

Do you see her?

That is my wife.

Do you know who I am, dear?

I say that because she sees so little of me.

Do you think that's the way I want life to be?

When does Atlas get the chance to take the world off his shoulders?

When do I become a normal man? Never, it seems, with the members I've got!

I used to get letters from people saying,

"You poor thing, having to put up with that man.

"Why did you ever marry him?

"If he turns that telephone round again, I'll hit him!

"Why don't you hit him?"

-What are you all doing at this table?

-I don't know, really.

Paul said, "Is this all right?" There didn't seem any logical reason to say no.

That table over there is our table. It's always been our table.

For goodness' sake, it's a piece of furniture, not a personal friend.

I think I prefer it over here.

It's a wonder to me,

Hilda, that you didn't desert when you were in the Wrens.

He liked characters who were in a sense

the prisoner of their environment.

And there was a lot of comedy to be derived from the obligations

of their environment

and the fact that they were trapped in a particular circumstance.

And you find that actually at the core of a lot of his comedy.

-He's next year's secret weapon.

-Cambridge Blue, you know.

-Actually played at Lord's once.

-Really?

Well, that is good news. Mind you,

Paul might not be very interested in playing for a little local team.

-No, I'd like to.

-That's great.

-Oh, fine. That's lovely, yes.

That's really very...fine.

Working with him...defined my part, once we got on our feet

and started rehearsing it because, me, Peter, I found him

so funny that sometimes during recordings,

we had to stop because I couldn't stop laughing as Peter.

-I made you a cup of coffee.

-Not there, love.

-Would you like one?

-No, he wouldn't. He's supposed to be on patrol.

So, I thought the only way that I'm going to make this work is

if I make Paul find it very funny, as well.

Half the time it was Peter corpsing and making Paul laugh.

That was from what Dickie was doing, so I introduced that as part of the character.

# We've been together now

# For 40 years... #

We used to rehearse every day and record on a Sunday.

He used to say, "There you are, we have a very nice week

"and then on Sunday evening we have a car crash." Because that's what it felt like.

Oh.

Love.

'Even while things went wrong, we all had to go,

'"Isn't it marvellous?" And then carry on.

'We lost pounds on a Sunday night.'

And then had a lot of white wine afterwards.

He did great double-takes

and he had a strange way of sort of panting at certain given moments,

and I said to him,

"It's very interesting, that kind of energy you use.

"Your double-takes are fantastic, really funny."

And he said, "That's down to Fred."

I said, "What?" "It's all down to Fred." "Who's Fred?"

He said, "My dog, Fred."

"Your dog?" "Yeah, he does the greatest double-takes.

"If ever something happens, he pauses for a second and goes...

"Cos dogs are so honest and truthful,

"they never think about how they look, they just do the take.

"So I used to watch Fred a lot and so I base my double-takes on his timing, it's perfect."

PHONE RINGS Argh!

Yes!

Two things, Lawrence, don't call me "old son"

and don't suggest I've forgotten about the Darby and Joan Club. I've got them on the duplicator.

Panicking?! I don't know the meaning of the word!

GET OFF THE LINE!

I think Martin in Ever Decreasing Circles is probably the greatest creation.

This desire for order

as a bulwark against the great forces of chaos

that are just poised to take over your life

and possibly even, in Martin's case, your brain.

Shut up! Shut up!

I think that was a rather sort of deep and possibly on the edge

of tragic feeling that this man was just guarding against a big fall.

The pilot light on that iron's got a mind of its own.

The phone hasn't stopped ringing. I haven't had anything to eat all day.

And to top it all, I've snagged my fingernail and I've just about had enough of it!

But when he failed, you really felt his pain.

And he didn't shy away from it.

-That was my dinner.

-Fancy putting plastic into a hot oven.

-I didn't know.

-What's all this down your sink?

-More rice!

To be a really great comedian, which he was,

you have to be able to also plum those depths of heartbreak

and swing people in different directions.

-All right.

-When we've finished, we'll go next-door for some supper.

I've got a casserole in the oven.

I'd like that. I'm ever so hungry.

Of course you are, Martin.

He is in fact very vulnerable and rather sweet underneath.

Richard is very good at just pointing those small qualities out to you

and making a character which could be unsympathetic very sympathetic.

'Action, Richard.'

I'm doing it for you, Ann.

Ever Decreasing Circles was watched by up to 12 million

viewers at its peak.

It ran for five years before coming to an end in 1989.

-Well, Paul...

-Well, Martin...

Cheerio, then.

I'll be seeing you cos I've got a couple of mates up in Oswestry.

Have you?

Yes.

You two!

Oh.

Whenever Dickie and I used to talk on the phone, he'd ring me up

and he'd go, "Hello, Pete."

I'd say, "Hello, Dick."

We used to speak on the phone quite a lot and whenever he rang, after

I put the phone down, my wife would always say,

"That was Dickie, wasn't it?"

And I would say, "How did you know that?" "You never stopped laughing!"

In his mid 50s, with a string of successful sitcoms to his name,

Richard's reputation as an accomplished comic actor was assured.

He always used to call himself...

"Oh, I'm Mr Anorak, or Mr Suburbia." The gifts he had, of course,

were anything but suburban.

But in 1986, Richard met a young actor-director who would

dramatically alter the course of his career.

A challenge that Dickie had at the time I met him,

he felt, was that people saw him as one particular thing.

And although he loved doing it,

he definitely had ambitions for other things.

A year later, Branagh cast him as Malvolio in Twelfth Night.

It was Richard's first Shakespearean role for nearly 40 years.

Something I think people didn't quite understand with Dickie

because of the nature of some of the roles he played is that he

was a risk-taker, he was a creative risk-taker.

I was 26 when he said he would come and be in our production.

I had five years of a career to show him

it was worth getting involved with our company, but he did.

This was a significant risk. He didn't need to do it. No money.

And sort of, potentially, both unglamorous, unprofitable

and risky in terms of his reputation.

I have limed her.

But this is Jove's doing. And Jove make me thankful.

And when she went away now, "Let this fellow be looked to."

Fellow, not Malvolio. nor after my degree. But fellow.

Why every thing adheres together.

He wasn't sure, A, if he could do it and, B, even if

he could do it, if the critics would accept it, if they wouldn't

just object to the fact he wasn't in cardigan and Wellingtons.

I will smile.

I will do everything that thou wilt have me.

Unforgettable. Unforgettable performance.

And I remember Richard Briers doing this extraordinary smile.

It was like the unveiling of some grotesque monument,

as this face opened up and this huge set of teeth manifested themselves.

But that was one of the really classic comic

performances of my lifetime.

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Sad, lady? I could be sad.

It does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering,

but what of that?

If it please the eye of one...

It is with me as the very true sonnet is, "Please one...

"and please all."

His Malvolio was sensational and it had comedy and it had tragedy

and it was quite heartbreaking at the end.

And tell me in the modesty of honour why you have given me

such clear lights of favour.

Bade me come smiling and cross-gartered to you.

To put on yellow stockings and to frown upon Sir Toby

and the lighter people.

His humanity and his comic brilliance came

together as Malvolio and just... It was an illuminating

performance of a great role in a great play by a great actor.

The success of Twelfth Night led to another collaboration.

This time, Branagh offered him the chance to perform on a world tour

in the most challenging Shakespearean role a senior actor can undertake.

I think it was brave.

He was not a natural traveller, but I think he also realised that

if he didn't do this now, he'd never do it.

No-one else, he didn't think, was going to offer him

a world tour playing King Lear.

When we were rehearsing it, he broke his ankle during rehearsal.

If he'd have decided he wanted to duck out of it, it would have been perfectly acceptable.

It was in Los Angeles where we opened, I saw Dickie waiting for his first entrance.

He had a sort of loose boot over his big plaster cast. That's...

It's not very nice when that happens to anybody, if you're to go on and play King Lear for the evening,

dragging the weight of that and the pain of that and everything.

Apart from myself, the only other actor I've seen more nervous...

In the wings I saw him, his whole body was shaking. He was holding a stick.

And then he went on and it was as if that never existed.

He went on and he was a lion, an absolute lion.

When I heard that Richard Briers was playing King Lear, I'll admit

I raised an eyebrow, but it came straight down again when I saw it.

It was the most astonishing performance,

done with extraordinary emotional truthfulness,

direct to the heart of the most difficult part in repertoire.

Kenneth Branagh definitely changed Richard Briers' life

by offering these fantastic Shakespearean parts.

Come, I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends

and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France.

It's easy to overlook the skill of an actor in a sitcom.

Wrong to, but it's easy to do it, because they make it look easy.

They're just there to be silly and funny a lot of the time.

But that takes a massive amount of acting.

Do not, when thou art king, hang a thief.

No.

'He said to me once, "It's like having a coach.'

"Brannagh is like having a sort of football coach.

"He sort of sits on the sidelines, and sort of, you know,

"tells you the important things that you need to do in order

"to kind of get you through the next 90 minutes."

Thou hast spoke the right.

'He always talked about acting as if, you know,

'sort of any fool could do it, you know.

'He wore his greatness lightly...'

..like a kind of loose coat around his shoulders.

Um, I admired that.

Playing opposite him was a sort of delicious agony.

I had mouth ulcers because I had to bite the inside of my mouth

so much trying to keep a straight face working with Richard Briers,

who was meantime stealing the scene.

Back in his pocket, thank you very much.

Dickie was Bardolph in Henry V.

He was Leonato in Much Ado.

And then, of course, came the great meeting of the 20th century,

that between Richard Briers and Robert De Niro.

There was this small scene where the old man says, "Come in, come in, I know you're there," the famous

scene in Frankenstein, and he's lurking outside, so Ken said,

"Look, when you say 'Come in, I know you're there, don't be frightened,'

"you may have to say quite a lot more." So I said, "What do you mean? I don't want to, you know,

"suddenly ad-lib. I'm not very good at ad-libbing. I have to painstakingly learn things."

He said, "Well, he has to be MADE to come in."

But I could see Dickie's back go like this. "What do I have to do?" "Make stuff up".

"I don't know if you've noticed, Mr Director, but I'm blind in this.

"I've got contact lenses in. I can't even see if he's there.

"What am I going to say? Does he want me to swear?" "No! You don't need to."

"Because he swears in his films." "I know, but that's... You don't have to do it."

"Cos I'm blind." "I know you're blind!"

And then we started the scene. "Hello? Who's there?"

So I'm saying, "Oh, come in, my dear. I know you're there, dear fellow.

"You mustn't be frightened." Nothing happened.

Won't you come and sit by the fire?

Please, don't be afraid.

Come. Come in.

"Come in. Come on, matey." Cut! You can't say "matey"!

You can't say "matey", Dick. It's Robert De Niro!

Anyway, it went on for some time.

In the end, I think, Robert came over to me and said, "I'll just come in.

"You know, I'll just come in. Dick, it's fine. I'm coming in.

"Don't say anything. OK. Keep the eyes closed."

"That seems very reasonable."

Ah, that's better.

I'm glad you finally came in.

A man shouldn't have to hide in the shadows.

He enjoyed it. I mean, he was never...er, he would be comic, but pretending that he was.

But he was never awed by it.

They had a conversation one day about where they lived.

"So where do you live, Robert?" "I live in New York."

"OK, where do you live?" "I live in Chiswick."

"Chiswick. Where's Chiswick?"

"It's West London, Robert." "West London."

"Mmm."

Not the most sprightly conversation, I don't think.

And Dickie would say things like, "He's mad, love.

"I wouldn't want all that money, being mad."

"I mean, you've got all that money, and you're mad. What's the point?"

"What's happened to the water?" asked Rhubarb, in a thirsty sort of way.

"The sun drank it," squeaked the birds.

"But I was so thirsty," said the sun, looking sheepish.

"Greedy," growled Rhubarb.

He had an amazing voice,

which meant that his performances continue to tickle our ears,

particularly his voiceovers.

I think Rhubarb may be the greatest thing he's ever done.

It's just perfect.

"May I... May..." said Rhubarb.

"You've eaten the feast!" squeaked the birds.

I remember him saying that he could never understand why it caught on.

Because it was so mad, and so crazy, and so wobbly.

But that's what its appeal was to kids, particularly.

It was completely anarchic.

"I have a message from General Custard, sir," said Betty.

"General Custard needs help right now.

"Crow Indians flocking together at Rookery knock."

But he was anarchic like that, vocally.

He was never frightened of sort of doing, you know, extraordinary voices.

"We will have sport with um pink cat called General Custard,

"And um green dog called General Rhubarb Little Big Hat.

"We'll harum-scarum," said Crow's Feet.

"Let the war party commence."

I remember being amazed at how he could switch from voice to voice,

and he'd never have to think about it.

He never had to have the voices played back in to him.

He could just run with them.

And I remember thinking that is an incredible gift.

This man so absolutely gifted.

"He who laughs last laughs longest," Custard catcalled.

And that cat was just so horrible,

and he gave him that "ree", you know, that quite a nasal sort of droning.

"What's that?" screeched Custard.

"A hot air balloon," announced Rhubarb.

"Well, with you driving it, you won't run out of fuel!

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

He could encompass just about everything that the theatre or television or cinema could offer.

I can't think of anything he couldn't play,

no role you wouldn't cast him in.

Richard Briers, I think, was probably the most versatile actor of his generation.

In 1996, he proved his versatility once again...

How does my good Lord Hamlet?

..reuniting with Brannah.

Well, God-a-mercy.

Do you know me, my Lord?

Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.

-Not I, my lord.

-Then I would you were so honest a man!

Your task, I believe, was to take on the role of Polonius

and give it a new slant.

Er, now, many people, I know, have played him as a kind of bumbling fool,

-playing him for laughs.

-Yeah.

-You didn't go the same way.

No, I play him very sexy.

You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo.

Before you visit him, to make inquire of his behaviour.

You've got this lovely scene, which is normally cut,

of Polonius and his servant. A tiny part called Reynaldo.

And Polonius does all the talking.

Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris,

And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,

what company, at what expense.

I said, "I know he's a tiny part, but the reactions on his face from what I say,

"his reactions are very important.

"You will get somebody really good, won't you?

"Although it's a tiny, weeny part."

He said, "I've got Gerard Depardieu."

-Do you mark this, Reynaldo?

-Ay, very well, my Lord.

And I had all the responsibility for the lines,

and I was saying, so and so and so and so,

"You understand, Reynaldo?" He said, "I do, my Lord," in this wonderful French accent.

Very good, my Lord.

So that was at...I had several glasses of Chardonnay after he'd gone back to his vineyard.

He didn't ask me back with him. But that was again an honour, and who would know that I'd be

playing that with the greatest French actor in the world, you know. Unbelievable. Dead cheeky.

I went round to work, and my young mistress thus I did bespeak -

"Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy star. This must not be."

And then I prescripts gave her,

that she should lock herself from his resort, admit no messengers,

receive no tokens. Which done, she took the fruits of my advice.

And I thought Briars, again,

had this ability to bring out the ugly side of characters.

We all think of him as immensely likeable from his television work,

obviously, and he was, but he could bring out the ugly,

repellent side of human beings.

There was a seamy, sweaty side to him, which he enjoyed playing. He loved playing those characters.

He did a couple of very sinister types on the television

and he loved doing that, playing the nasty major or the, you know,

people with a little bit of bile or attack in them.

I can't think.

I mean, I've never done anything so far as remember.

I'm sure it would be something that you'd remember.

What else was in this file?

Nothing. That's what's so odd.

There was a wonderful thing he did with John, which they

had great larks in,

where he played a villain in an Inspector Morse with black -

dyed black hair, and they behaved outrageously, I think,

the two of them on the set, but he was marvellously malevolent in that.

He's let them know how much he wants it. A fatal error.

They'll vote for Julian, in spite of his wife,

because he doesn't seem so ambitious.

Though of course he is - probably more.

And I was startled by it.

I mean, this terrible black hair and everything. He really went for it.

I really do control the future, Shelley.

Dennis can be master, but only if you do what I want.

In character, he had a huge energy and enthusiasm

and a very mischievous

sense of humour, which was very infectious.

It was quite a one-man party. It was always good fun,

lots of laughs when he was around.

And he was always looking for the next glass of wine,

so it was, yeah, quite a party atmosphere.

-Have you any...

-One of the great lacks in my life, Chief Inspector,

is a regular concubine.

-Look, this is really...

-Sorry, sir, but if you wouldn't mind...

I was so grateful to Richard, cause John didn't make friends easily

and Richard and he were very close,

and our children were very close.

One image that I have of him...

My husband and he loved doing barbecues, but they were hopeless at it.

And they would take about five hours to heat up.

I remember one, and we, the family, were quivering

because they would get very angry with their barbecues,

so we were sort of hiding inside, and it was rainy, and the two of them were having a few bevvies,

and they were trying to get this damn thing to light.

They put paraffin on it, they put gin on it,

and eventually they got some very burnt sausages which tasted of paraffin and gin!

He adored his family, and they adored him.

And he was very supportive to Lucy and Katie, his children,

he adored his grandchildren.

He was a very family man.

He was blessed with Ann, who put up with all his tantrums

and things, and was the perfect wife for him, and adored him,

as did everybody, I think.

In 2000, Richard swapped home life in London for a TV location in the Highlands

when he accepted the lead in a Sunday night comedy drama...

What's my foolish husband up to now?

..playing Lord of the Manor, Hector MacDonald, in Monarch Of The Glen.

-Where are my Marmite soldiers?

-I had them court-martialed and shot.

I always have Marmite soldiers with my boiled egg.

Bairns will be bairns.

I am Hector Naismith MacDonald, 14th chief of an ancient line.

Laird of Glenbogle, Ochintumble and Blairweary,

or to you, girl, just plain "sir"!

Ach, away and play with your lineage!

He immediately knew which bits were the funny bits

and which bits were the build-up,

and which bit was too long and which bit we should cut, and all of that.

He was secure in his acting.

He knew what he was doing, and he knew how to make the material work.

And, you know, that's lovely to be with when you're less secure, as I certainly was.

Drop it. Drop it!

Turn round slowly.

Hande hoch!

Sorry, Kilwillie, but for you the war is over.

When people say to me, what is Richard like?

I would say say he's exactly as you imagine him to be,

but with expletives thrown in every sentence.

And man goes to see quack, says, "Doctor, I've a cricket ball stuck up my whatsit!"

There's something we need to talk about.

Doctor says, "Howzat?" Man says, "Don't you start!" Don't you start!

They had a little sort of house they all shared, he and Susan, and Al,

and I used to up there in the evening, so there would be Richard, as a sort of Buddha, you know,

sitting with all these kind of young actors and

actresses around his feet, but, you know, they loved him - I loved him.

Mother, father.

I remember thinking, "Tonight, "I'm just going to go upstairs

and learn my lines for the next day, prepare myself,"

and then inevitably my phone would ring in the room,

and I'd go, "Hello?" And he'd go, and it would be Richard on the other end, going, "You coming down, love?"

"You coming down?" "All right, I'll be there."

"Hurry up, will you?"

So I'd, so I'd, I'd sort of go back to my lines,

and I'd just...couldn't do much more because it was so irresistible.

I did enjoy our little chat.

Turn that wretched hurdy-gurdy off!

We had a kitchen in the house that we lived in, and I used to cook for myself quite a lot,

and of course, Dickie never did. And he one night, he said,

"Could you teach me how to make an omelette?"

I showed him the kind of rudimentary basics of making an omelette,

and I remember putting parsley in

and he went, "Parsley? Brilliant idea!"

Er, you know - so basic, but he loved it.

HMS Glenbogle, do your worst!

After three series playing the irascible yet lovable

Hector MacDonald, Richard made a dramatic exit from Monarch Of The Glen, in 2002.

And I read the script, and I said, "God, you know, you're going to be

blown up, and everything!" He said, "I know, darling.

"It seems rather odd in this show, doesn't it, but the thing is,

"I don't want to be tempted to come back!"

'He said, "I know what I'm like."

'"And I'll just have to be out of work for a week or two,

'"and then I'll immediately think, well, I'd better go back.

'"So if I'm dead, I can't go back."'

He never stopped.

I mean, he was a workaholic, I think. He really couldn't...

When we were doing things, he'd say, "I've got to go, I've got a voiceover."

Dickie just never, never stopped.

He did some absolutely wonderful,

heart-breaking things on television.

Dad was commissioned for Comic Relief,

although there weren't many laughs in it.

It was really focusing on elder abuse in all its forms.

And my mum, Jean Heywood,

started to develop Alzheimer's and was taken into care.

And, er...Dickie played the dad.

That's never your slip.

I'd be ashamed to put you in an old rag like that!

(Oh, God!)

Dad was as good a performance as he ever gave

because of the huge amount of stuff he had to cover as that character.

So it was probably one of his finest performances.

Your mother is just a column of figures on a balance sheet.

The less she consumes, the better.

That woman would have given her life for you

and you can't even raise your voice to help her!

I don't want to see her undressed.

I think often, the bleaker the circumstances that you're filming,

the more hysterical the actors get.

And, er...certainly, Dickie wouldn't have let it get grim.

We laughed and laughed throughout in the most inappropriate places.

In 2010, Richard appeared in London Assurance at the National Theatre.

It would be his last stage role.

APPLAUSE

He wasn't terribly well then. He had the emphysema then.

But he did, um...so little

and it showed so much.

He played a very doddery old ex-soldier called Spanker.

And he just walked very, very, very slowly.

I remember thinking, that's the simplest thing in the world,

but it is absolutely done with the knowledge of the comic effect.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Permit me to introduce you to Sir Harcourt Courtly.

-Oh, how do you do?

-Enchante!

'He was absolutely not what you'd expect.'

HE LAUGHS

He was famous, and I'm sure other people have mentioned it,

he was famous for absolutely foul language.

Heaven!

There was one moment where, I can't even remember why,

backstage, three or four actors

had to crowd into a tiny cupboard-type space

while the set revolved around them before they could re-enter.

During the dress rehearsal, four characters exploded onto the stage

helpless with laughter because Richard was going,

"This is the biggest effing stage in the whole of effing Europe

"and all they can do with us between effing scenes

"is crowd us into this effing cupboard!"

And they were helpless for the rest of the scene.

Where have you been, darling?

Er...I was outside.

Why did you not come in earlier?

I didn't think I did.

LAUGHTER

He just had to stand there and the audience were so pleased to see him.

They were so pleased he was there.

And, indeed, um...it was wonderful to see him.

And he was brilliant.

I think he knew...well, I hope he knew, just how skilful he was.

Au revoir, monsieur.

The fellow is a frog!

LAUGHTER

His final illness was awful.

Awful.

But still, with all the breathlessness

and all the...nasty things he had to go through,

he would make light of it

and have you laughing at something that you were hating.

You know?

He wouldn't give in until it...went too far.

Wish it could have held off a bit.

"I have played," so he says,

"every possible part.

"And I used to know 70 speeches by heart.

"I'd extemporise backchat, I knew how to gag

"and I knew how to let the cat out of the bag.

"I had a voice that would soften the hardest of hearts,

"whether I took the lead, or in character parts."

Richard Briers died on 17th February 2013.

He was 79.

He was a firecracker of a performer.

He was like a humourous hand grenade

that exploded, and his humour went in all directions.

He was a selfless actor, which is, you know, remarkable.

Careful!

Got this, too.

He did love making The Good Life. He really, really loved it.

There was something magical about that time.

HE LAUGHS

I'll remember him on a boat on Lake Toronto at midnight,

a bit drunk, singing live Louis Armstrong songs.

Very funny, right down to the bones.

Even tragedy could be funny with Richard.

Goodbye, you magnificent animal!

I loved him very much, and he was my friend.

# Grab your coat and grab your hat, baby

# Leave your worries on the doorstep

# Just direct your feet on the sunny side of the street

# Can't you hear that pitter-pat there?

# That happy tune is yours now

# Life can be so sweet... #

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