BIGHEADS & BIG FUN
Fantastical comedy fans will love touching
BACK in the 1980s, British comedy was in a state of civil war.
The likes of Bernard Manning and Jim Davidson were standing their ground, but all the momentum was with Ben Elton’s band of “alternative comedians”.
One man stand stood apart from the fray.
This was Frank Sidebottom, an enthusiastic Altrincham FC fan with a head made of papier-maché.
It was an act so bizarre and so inexplicably funny it felt like you had dreamed it.
My first live encounter with Frank features as one of the clips in Steve Sullivan’s documentary (sadly, I couldn’t see my young self in the crowd).
It was August 1992, and I went to the comedy tent at what was then called the Reading Rock Festival to see a comedy character I’d known from Saturday morning kids’ TV. I found myself fighting to get into a cult.
I remember a feeling of panic as security guards tried to fight back the hundreds of rock fans pushing to get into the tent.
Then Frank bounced on to the stage. “Guess who’s been on Match Of The Day?” he squeaked in his distinctive nasal voice.
“You have in your big shorts!” roared back the drunken crowd. Frank had recently appeared on the programme (in big shorts) to celebrate one of Altrincham’s giant-killing cup runs.
Everyone seemed deliriously happy for him.
Frank’s identity was a closely guarded secret until 2010, when the death of musician Chris Sievey was announced. As this fascinating film reveals, this wasn’t the stage he ever wanted to be on.
“There were times when Chris resented Frank,” says DJ and Frank’s former band member Mark Radcliffe. “He was a good pop writer and a good musician, and he could make records really well. I think Chris wanted that more than anything else.”
He and his brother had recorded a session for Apple Records, and later Chris’ band The Freshies got to No54 with I’m In Love With The Girl On The Manchester Virgin Megastore Checkout Desk. The film suggests it could’ve been a huge hit, had a BBC technicians’ strike not ruined a Top Of The Pops appearance. Frank was originally the Freshies’ groupie and their comedy support act. But Sievey realised his invention was the bigger draw.
In 1989, he supported Bros at a packed Wembley Stadium, where he was booed off while performing his version of Bohemian Rhapsody. Still, after years of rejection, Sievey was in the limelight. But it turned out OLEG Ivenko took a leap into the unknown when he was cast as ballet star Rudolf Nureyev in Ralph Fiennes’ movie The White Crow, out now. The 22-year-old Ukrainian, the lead in the Tatar State Academic Opera and Ballet Theatre, had never acted and couldn’t speak English. But Fiennes, who directs and stars as Nureyev’s
1992 would be the height of his popularity. The year he played Reading was also the year of his surreal chat show, ITV’s The Fantastic Shed Show.
Success didn’t go to his head (it was big enough already), but it did fuel his addictions. His wife Paula says he had a childlike relationship with money.
His health suffered as he blew his pay cheques on booze and drugs.
Comics, friends and family (including Ross Noble and Johnny Vegas) talk about how the line between Chris and Frank began to blur.
“When he wore the head he was Frank,” says Radcliffe.
Record boss Tosh Ryan says: “It was schizophrenia almost.”
When Chris died penniless, aged 54, author Jon Ronson – another former bandmate – set up a Facebook page to fund his send-off.
Frank’s Fantastic Funeral raised
£20,000. Three years later, another
£60,000 was raised for a statue in his hometown of Timperley. Fans also coughed up for this hilarious and touching documentary. It’s a worthy tribute to a genuine cult hero. dance teacher, was so impressed he gave him a year to brush up on his language and acting skills.
I caught up with Ivenko
– a Manchester City fan – in a London dance studio…
How did you get the role? About three years ago, I got an email inviting me to a screen test. I decided it was spam and deleted it.
A fortnight later I received another one and decided it was safe to reply. Then I was contacted by a casting director.
I knew other dancers had been contacted too, so there was serious competition.
Then I went to St Petersburg, where they were casting several parts. That was where I met Ralph. It was