"I am not what I am..." seems to have been the personal and professional ethos of both Wilfrid Brambell and Harry H. Corbett. In the latter's case this was a constant battle between artistic aspirations and typecasting, in the former's an approach to acting as a trade - and a battle with his attraction to trade of the rough variety.
In his autobiography, Brambell perceived acting as " the lesser of the arts" as it was "interpretive". Career-wise he was at stalemate, knew he was a character actor and was comfortable in the niche. Corbett, retaining a sense of the Chinese-whispered "Method" technique fashionable in the early sixties, was a talented mimic and character actor, but perceived himself more as a leading man. He could have joined the ranks of Burton, Finney and Harris had 'Steptoe' not held firm grasp of his ambition.
The BBC is embodied, in one producer character, as a gently patrician factory boss. The writers, Galton and Simpson, are expected to churn out scripts as a mill would cotton, and, in this nationalised industry, the actors are the workers on the shop floor.
Corbett's curbed aspiration is reinforced at key points throughout the film. Initially it is Finney who wins a job over him - in the end Corbett is second choice to Bernard Bresslaw. This is telling. In fighting the comic acting he so deftly made a talent, Corbett suppressed the life of his career out with Steptoe into any other sphere. Bresslaw, an equally skilled classical actor with a popular comedy persona, embraced these gifts and did well in both milieu.
The more Corbett fought for a credible acting reputation the more manacled he became to Harold Steptoe. Not all the fault of the typecasting as the film pointed out. Corbett was possessed of a near child-like rage and arrogance toward his career and women.
A key scene shows his initial joy at doorstepping paparazzi on the day after the first series of 'Steptoe & Son' began. He thought every glory would come knocking and did little of the footwork his contemporaries did. Like all "curses" this was self-perpetuated misfortune, self-fulfilling prophecy.
In his autobiography, Brambell perceived acting as " the lesser of the arts" as it was "interpretive". Career-wise he was at stalemate, knew he was a character actor and was comfortable in the niche. Corbett, retaining a sense of the Chinese-whispered "Method" technique fashionable in the early sixties, was a talented mimic and character actor, but perceived himself more as a leading man. He could have joined the ranks of Burton, Finney and Harris had 'Steptoe' not held firm grasp of his ambition.
The BBC is embodied, in one producer character, as a gently patrician factory boss. The writers, Galton and Simpson, are expected to churn out scripts as a mill would cotton, and, in this nationalised industry, the actors are the workers on the shop floor.
Corbett's curbed aspiration is reinforced at key points throughout the film. Initially it is Finney who wins a job over him - in the end Corbett is second choice to Bernard Bresslaw. This is telling. In fighting the comic acting he so deftly made a talent, Corbett suppressed the life of his career out with Steptoe into any other sphere. Bresslaw, an equally skilled classical actor with a popular comedy persona, embraced these gifts and did well in both milieu.
The more Corbett fought for a credible acting reputation the more manacled he became to Harold Steptoe. Not all the fault of the typecasting as the film pointed out. Corbett was possessed of a near child-like rage and arrogance toward his career and women.
A key scene shows his initial joy at doorstepping paparazzi on the day after the first series of 'Steptoe & Son' began. He thought every glory would come knocking and did little of the footwork his contemporaries did. Like all "curses" this was self-perpetuated misfortune, self-fulfilling prophecy.