Jamie Kenna nominated for the London Theatre Award 2013 for The Cheeky Chappie: ‘His jokes are tellingly about sex and adultery – and we follow him entirely rapt, as he sees none of the former and clumsily wanders into the latter as a result’

A comedian stops short in the middle of a joke, frozen by the overhead sirens. We hear a bomb take hold somewhere in the distance, and are allowed a moment to absorb the sorrow of the situation and the look of dread on his face before  he  rights himself and storms straight back into the stand-up. It is a well-picked simile.

Sweeping the great waters of bygone talent, “The Cheeky Chappie” plunges back to wartime humour and fishes out a loud-suited and efficiently garrulous character - Brighton variety act Max Miller. This short but sweet biographical tale concisely deliver’s the stand-up’s reputation, as well as exposing the sore and distinctly un-cheeky reality underlying his humour. All quick tongue and no action, the woes and triumphs of the man and his career are intelligently portrayed through music hall interludes, and excerpts from his old sets.

With a stern wife who after a miscarriage turns her back on any marital pleasure, and the pain of a lost child, Max charges on relentlessly to become almost orbital in comedic reputation. His jokes are tellingly about sex and adultery – and we follow him entirely rapt, as he sees none of the former and clumsily wanders into the latter as a result.

The ensemble supporting Mr. Miller act as fleeting characters in his life: admirers, scornful BBC executives, the doctor – and whilst he and his wife, lover or both play out the dramatic backbone of the piece, wonderful irony is utilised in songs of the era. “Babyface” for example, resounds particularly painfully when following the scene where his wife loses all motherly hope and ambition.

This was a hugely skilful and nostalgic production. The charming Jamie Kenna gives a spotless and multi-faceted performance as Max Miller. Laura Martin Simpson as Kathleen is a pool of withheld and all-too British emotion - as she deftly bypasses her role as wife to become the sexless mother figure, and Sarah Moyle in turn depicts Anne (Max’s lover) with adorably dowdy panache. All three leads shine, whilst the talented ensemble of winsome theatre folk stoke up the ongoing metaphor of Miller’s life as a show with stylish rigour.

Perhaps because it is a depiction of a real life lived, we skip out the clichés and are left feeling deeply for Max, Kathleen and Anne, but it has to be said that just like Max Miller, writer Dave Simpson has his act all polished and ready to entertain. The end result is certainly the same; standing ovations in this century and the last.

The Arts Theatre, Leicester Square