"UK, BBC, Sitcom, Colour, 2005
Starring: Paul Whitehouse, Chris Langham, Alison King
Psychotherapist Peter welcomes an array of clients into the reassuring sanctuary of his practice. There's Monty, the London cabbie from Jewish Kingsbury who is a selflessly devoted carer for his sick wife; there's Johnny, the Italian wife-beater; there's Gary, the cockney who disapproves of therapy and is present to please his wife (played by Alison Senior); there's Terry, who believes he's black (but isn't) and is the subject of racial discrimination; and there's ... well, a large number of troubled characters, new ones popping up in every episode, even the last. Peter tries to listen to them without prejudice but is amazed or appalled by much of what he hears, to the point where occasionally his mask slips and we learn as much about Peter and his peccadilloes - especially his fantasies for his receptionist Rebecca (played by Alison King) - as we do about his patients.
The BBC approached Chris Langham with an idea for a show in which he would play a psychiatrist whose clients were all celebrities. Langham - no fan of the cult of celebrity - declined, but the BBC persisted. Langham suggested such a show might work if all of the clients were played by one actor ( la Alec Guinness's portrayal of the entire D'Ascoyne family in the Ealing comedy Kind Hearts And Coronets) and when Paul Whitehouse became involved the idea was made manifest. The result was a masterpiece. It's said that all great ideas are the simplest; it's also said that the archetypal sitcom is two people stuck in a room (think Steptoe And Son and Porridge) - Help was ready confirmation of both.
Langham and Whitehouse formed a terrific partnership as writers and as screen talent. The nave but essentially well-meaning Peter's interaction with his flawed clients formed the centre of the piece and much of the comedy sprung from the dynamic duologues. But this was more than just comedy: the show grappled with serious themes and shied away from easy exits. Rather than caricature their subjects the writer/performers treated them with humanity, unafraid to introduce sentimentality or melancholy but doing so sparingly, not in the overcooked manner of a cloying Hollywood movie. Both players had experienced therapy in real life and put their experiences to excellent use.
To say that one performer here was better than the other would be missing the point. Both played their roles to perfection. Nonetheless, it would also be wrong not to amplify the applause for the immense contribution made by Paul Whitehouse. He was never less than convincing in a myriad character transformations. Whitehouse is a talent with few peers in the history of television comedy, a man who excels in all that does. To watch him in Help was to observe (to quote a line from his work with Harry Enfield) a consummate artist.
