In her memoir’s initial section, esteemed actress Alison Steadman recounts a specific meeting with spectators post one of her early career performances. Joyfully revealing, “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the real me!” she expressed.
The lead character in her pleasing autobiography unmistakably reflects the real Steadman, yet also mirrors the author’s own imaginings. She’s far from the beastly Beverley of Mike Leigh’s iconic Abigail’s Party, rather, a heartwarming emulation of personalities from later TV series like Fat Friends and Gavin & Stacey. Immemorable in 2024, she still describes “birds of the feathered variety” to delineate (presumably) from the near-obsolete synonym for young females. As a devoted Liverpudlian, Steadman credits the legendary St Cilla and affirms she’s had a “lorra, lorra fun so far” with her own characteristic emphasis. Her biography displays the casual flow of a talkshow, scattered with exclamation points and italics.
Viewers can hardly picture a more quintessential depiction of 1960’s Merseyside. Expectedly, she spends her childhood a mere penalty kick’s distance from Anfield, within a tight-knit family of fervent Liverpool Football Club enthusiasts (concealing her own son’s preference for Manchester United from his grandmother). Despite being forbidden, she furtively enters the Cavern Club and procures autographs from the enchanting Paul McCartney and a bitter John Lennon. Her parents, despite their working-class status, show touching support when she attends acting school and patience over her roles in contentious endeavors like The Singing Detective.
The book also offers thoughtful content. A distressingly common account of a violent sexual encounter emerges into a chance meeting with the perpetrator later on. With admirable courage, she declares, “I’ll never forget what you did, ever”. Admirers of Abigail’s Party will delight at her recollection of spotting an early model of Beverley at Selfridge’s make-up section in 1977 while preparing for the part.
Further mention of Paul Muldoon, a poet: ‘He spoke of his father, a simple market gardener, hardly able to pen his own name.’
Alison Steadman’s “Out of Character” offers an energetic and easily enjoyed memoir written by an actress who only a cruel person would dislike. Luke Morgan has received the Lawrence O’Shaughnessy Award.
And a controversial investigation is delivered by “The Lost Music of the Holocaust”. As far as “Out of Character” is concerned, for the most part, it is a carefree journey through a predominantly joyous life. It vaguely mentions her marriage and subsequent divorce from Leigh. Little secrets seem to be revealed elsewhere. As Beverley famously exclaimed in Abigail’s Party, “We’re not gathered here for chitchats, we’re here to have a good time.” A sentiment which seems quite valid.