New Full Monty, same old Britain: ‘I was feeling the same fury again’

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Amid the costume dramas and romcoms that dominated 1990s British and Irish cinema, The Full Monty stood alone. For one thing, it turned a $3.5mn comedy-drama about out-of-work Sheffield steelworkers forced to resort to stripping into an unlikely $258mn global hit. But this was also a subtly polemical crowd-pleaser: the men’s clothes-shedding act served as a metaphor for the denuding psychological impact of unemployment. While the protagonists of The Commitments (1991), Brassed Off (1996) and Billy Elliot (2000) followed and achieved their dreams, Robert Carlyle’s Gaz and co were driven by desperation and found only temporary escape: the next day they would again be signing on for benefits payments.

That sense of inertia feels oddly familiar in the Britain of today and finds fresh expression in a new streaming series, also titled The Full Monty, which comes to Disney Plus later this month. The show may be set 25 years after the original but many of the same concerns still apply, especially in the north of England. It begins with clips that wryly make reference to the long-delayed HS2 railway plan, the botched Covid response and the demolition of cooling towers that serve as a reminder of Sheffield’s industrial past. “Seven prime ministers, eight northern regeneration policies later . . . ” reads one caption.

“The movie came out of a well of fury and anger at what was happening, particularly in the post-industrial north of England,” says Simon Beaufoy, writer of the 1997 film and the new series. “I was feeling the same fury again, yet it’s arguably worse because, while you can see a wrecking ball hitting a factory, this is an invisible hollowing-out of our social services, hospitals, schools, transport, social care, once again hitting the poorest most.”

Beaufoy, an Oscar-winner for Slumdog Millionaire in 2009, sensed that this was the moment to go back to the story. “This great rebirth of television meant now felt the right time to do it, and do it with The Full Monty because those characters are loved. We could do something hard-hitting without it being unpalatable.”

Carlyle had no hesitation about returning to the role of Gaz, who now works as a hospital porter but is still a pathological blagger. “Simon’s writing is so spot on — heavily political but with a small p. You see what feels like 50 years of austerity in the eyes and lives of these characters. People have had enough and things need to change.”

Carlyle’s co-stars are also back, hats and everything else firmly left on this time. Each is to some extent becalmed and provides a focus on different aspects of failing state support. Horse (Paul Barber) grapples with online applications for jobs and disability benefits and yearns for the fellowship of the old dole queue. Dave (Mark Addy) and Jean (Lesley Sharp) are caretaker and headteacher respectively of the crumbling Sheffield Spires Academy. Guy (Hugo Speer) personifies rampant, careless privatisation, a self-made businessman content to oversee shoddy school repairs before cashing in on a rebuilding contract.

Such brutal socio-economic reality, leavened with capers and empathy, is as rare on British TV today as it was in 1990s cinemas. The long-running, Manchester-set Shameless deteriorated into poverty-porn panto, although its writer Danny Brocklehurst has successfully mined similar territory in Brassic. More recently, Sophie Willan created the Bolton-set Alma’s Not Normal, based in part on her experiences as a sex worker, and won a well-deserved Bafta.

Steve Huison (as Lomper) with Robert Carlyle, Paul Barber and Mark Addy in the 1997 film © Alamy

“Whenever I’ve told anyone about Alma, the following question is: and that’s a comedy?” says Andrew Chaplin, who directed both Alma’s Not Normal and the Full Monty series. “There is a Ken Loach version of The Full Monty, desaturated and bleaker, but I was mindful of making it uplifting as well as real.”

For all that the political and economic climates then and now can seem oddly similar, sexual and gender politics have changed beyond recognition. The 1997 film was remarkably progressive in its discussion of body image, depression, homosexuality and masculinity at the height of lad culture but remained, as Beaufoy acknowledges, “an unbelievably male environment”. He has co-written the series with Alice Nutter with whom he previously collaborated on Trust, about the abduction of John Paul Getty III.

“Our mindsets have changed,” says Nutter. “Representation isn’t woke, it’s necessary, because white men were sold this idea that you will always be somebody by virtue of sex and race. Suddenly they feel robbed of those privileges, when actually everybody’s having a terrible time.”

“The series has room to explore some more female spirit,” adds Sharp, who returns the role of Jean. “She has gone from being the support structure to this wonderful man, to finding her own voice and imperative.”

Beaufoy’s and Nutter’s writing is as cautiously optimistic about the resilience of community spirit as it is angry about the shrinking welfare state. One thing it avoids is the B word. “We debated long and hard about bringing Brexit into it,” Beaufoy says. “If we get a second series, we should be bold and come out of the woodwork on that, the idea that ticking the ‘No’ box felt like getting back at promises unfulfilled.”

With the BBC often paralysed by a fear of perceived bias and Channel 4 still re-emerging from the existential threat of privatisation, Beaufoy, while unstinting in his praise for Disney’s hands-off support, fears a loss of ambition — even among streamers.

“Television has become very aspirational,” says Beaufoy. “Broadcasters and streamers have got more careful and frightened of what they make, so it has become increasingly about lives we don’t live, with beautiful people in beautiful places behaving badly.”

Nutter observes that the other option is often crime. “It’s a lot easier to get something made when there’s murder or a child missing than it is to talk about the situation people are in now, where all you’ve got are friends, family and food banks.”

But in The Full Monty’s world, these are not negligible notions. “It addresses the way communities and society can find ways of thriving and moving forward, even if that’s not supported by a political system,” says Sharp. “It’s about people saying: this doesn’t work. How can we make it work?”

On Disney Plus from June 14

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