Trooper to Cooper

Recent British theatre has a penchant for probing the underbelly of this country's iconic comics. Following Cleo, Camping, Emmanuelle and Dick and The Play What I Wrote, Tommy Cooper now joins the roll-call.

This unashamedly lightweight tribute only briefly dwells on the intriguing dark side of laughter, but is hugely enjoyable none the less.

Comedy buff John Fisher's simple narrative recreates some of the loveable buffoon's finest routines, which bookend a single backstage scene illuminating his less fêted antics. He liked a tipple and was a prodigious pill-popper. There was also a mistress, Mary, a surrogate wife/manager.

Hefty praise must go to Jerome Flynn, who leads with a prominent jaw. Apart from sporadic high-kicking from a sextet of stocking-clad dancers this is his show. It is a long way from Soldier, Soldier to solo in the West End, but he convincingly pulls off the metamorphosis from trooper to Cooper.

At times, particularly after the interval, he seems to inhabit this gentle giant's ill-fitting skin, stumbling dazed as his tricks fall apart. Flynn is a stripling compared with his character's guardsman build, but thanks to padding is no mini Cooper. The only thing lacking is the despairing stare. Flynn is more amiable than alienated.

The gigs are re-enacted brilliantly. One-liners, rubber birds, flowers and spotted hankies pour forth in a torrent. The tempo is varied by longer setpieces. Flynn is good at everything from genuine magic to fall-about hoofing. His timing has an instinctive precision that could not be learnt from books.

The side is briefly let down by the dramatic filling in the vaudeville sandwich. What John Fisher does not know about variety is not worth knowing, but Flynn's lines here tend to plod. Emotional baggage is never fully unpacked. The midwife rejected this misfit, but he survived on brandy and condensed milk. Later, military service

must have scarred him. His onstage death, however, is dealt with extremely well. There is a genuine poignancy before this oversized clown returns for a heavenly encore.

The bar for this distinctive sub-genre has been set high by The Play What I Wrote. Jus' Like That! falls short but has lots going for it. Simon Callow's vigorous direction ratchets up the pace and teases out laughs in all the right places. And, most of all, Flynn's performance is heroic.

To tackle a personality as big as Cooper and not fall flat on your face is a significant achievement. In Flynn's hands Cooper knocks many modern stand-ups into a cocked hat. Or should I say fez.

Jus' Like That!