For a short time during the sixties, Gordon Chater was
possibly Australia's most popular television star. He appeared
in the highest-rating TV series, and won a Gold Logie for
his pains. The Mavis Bramston Show had introduced him to
the masses, in various personae - from Hitler to Carlo Ponti,
Napoleon Solo to a pie-eating slob whose charm-school tips
made him an audience favourite.
Chater might have seemed multi-faceted, but that was just
one side of him. Though he had his start in revue, he would
later reveal himself as not so much a comedian as an extremely
versatile actor. Almost certainly his greatest role was
the perverse Robert O'Brien in The Elocution of Benjamin
Franklin, described by its playwright, Steven J. Spears,
as "a play for one actor and a hell of a lot of technicians".
Rarely has the cliche "making the role his own"
been so close to the truth for a stage actor: Chater originated
the role in Sydney, took it to London and New York, and
even appeared a revival nearly a decade later. Occasionally,
others have bravely stepped into his shoes, but it will
be some time before the role will ever be associated with
anyone else.
Mavis and Benjamin Franklin took him from revue performer
to satirist to Serious Actor, but he always had a penchant
for slapstick and silly humour, robbed of any pretension
by his plump, comical features. In a clever piece of self-parody,
one of his Mavis characters explained his style of humour:
"Satire. That means getting into women's clothes and
saying dirty words."
Indeed, even Benjamin Franklin allowed him some cross-dressing
- as did his swansong, as the title character in another
one-man play, Lady Bracknell's Confinement. For all his
wit, there was a mischievous touch of low-key, camp humour
to nearly all of his favourite roles.
He was born in 1922 in the London suburb of Bayswater. Though
he caught the acting bug at an early age (much to his father's
disapproval), he decided to please his parents by becoming
a doctor, studying medicine at Cambridge - and in his spare
time, appearing in student productions. He never finished
his degree, joining the Royal Navy in 1943 - and conveniently
enough, working for an entertainment troupe.
A year after the war, he boarded a ship for Fremantle. Though
he later claimed it was an accident - he believed the boat
was heading for Shanghai - he immediately fell in love with
Australia, choosing to settle in Sydney.
Within two years, he was appearing regularly in radio plays
and serials, as a "stooge" to such comics as Roy
'Mo' Rene, Jack Davey, George Wallace and visiting Briton
Arthur Askey. By 1952, he had graduated to lead roles, winning
a prestigious Macquarie Award for his comedy performances.
With his light charm, he was perfect for the intimate revues,
produced by William Orr, which were a mainstay of Sydney's
Phillip Street Theatre during the 1950s. From the very first
revue, Top of the Bill (1954), Chater was a regular, appearing
with up-and-coming actors like Ray Barrett, Ruth Cracknell
and Charles "Bud" Tingwell.
There was some satire in these revues, but they relied more
on traditional slapstick. Yes, Please (1961) included a
solo number from Chater, in which - dressed in a dinner
suit - he smothered himself with flour, eggs and custard
pies. The legendary Noel Coward, after watching one performance,
paid Chater the ultimate compliment: "There's only
one person who'd be funnier doing that than you. Me!"
(He would later buy the rights to the act and perform it
at a benefit show.)
Chater had other work in this time - Chekhov's The Cherry
Orchard, television plays in Britain, even a role in the
movie Smiley Gets a Gun (1957) - but his reputation was
set. Carol Raye, a producer at Channel 7, eventually offered
him a television comedy series. "Gordon Chater was
suggested to me by Harry Chester, the chief financial executive
at the station," she recalled. "He said Chater
was an extremely funny man, but possibly too naughty for
television."
The revue series was planned from 1964, tentatively titled
The Gordon Chater Show, but changed - at Chater's insistence
- to reflect its ensemble nature. Sending up the "cultural
cringe" practice of casting minor foreign talents in
Australian TV shows, it was retitled The Mavis Bramston
Show, which Raye described as "a name used by Melbourne
actors to describe someone not all that talented."
The first episode was broadcast, in Sydney and Newcastle,
on November 11, 1964. (It went national the following year.)
As always, it was filmed live, and Chater was joined by
Raye (an experienced performer) and Barry Creyton, a younger
Philip Street performer. They were later joined by others,
including June Salter, James Kenney and Miriam Karlin.
Mavis would quickly become the country's highest rating
series - no small achievement, for a late Saturday evening
timeslot. Apart from the generally high standard of humour,
the series' fame depended on controversy, as morals campaigners
ensured it a consistent place in the top five. Even the
Prime Minister, Sir Robert Menzies, was said to keep a watchful
eye over the series. His only official comment: he found
it very amusing.
One of the most controversial sketch - about the delicate
art of flower arranging - was denounced as outright smut.
"I suppose it can be argued that we went a little too
far with this one," admitted Chater at the time. "However,
it was not pointless... When this is done it must inevitably
produce controversy, which is surely a healthy thing."
By then, he was one of Australia's highest-paid entertainers
- and fittingly, one of the busiest. Apart from Mavis, he
had a regular morning spot with Gwen Plumb on radio station
2GB, cheekily titled Pussy and Charlie. The program would
last for three years, inspiring the ubiquitous morning comedy
shows of 30 years later.
Eventually, the pressure of two regular gigs would take
its toll on Chater, who left Mavis in late 1965. He would
be replaced by some talented performers - including John
Bluthal, Ron Fraser and Reg Livermore - but none would have
either his impact or his ratings.
He remained on the Channel 7 payroll, biding his time until
another vehicle could be found for his talents. Eventually,
My Name's McGooley - What's Yours? was found, cleverly written
by Ralph Peterson.
Chater played the title role: a cantankerous pensioner,
living in a working-class Balmain flat with his daughter
Rita (Judi Farr) and her short-tempered husband Wally (John
Meillon).
Here was a bare-bones sitcom, where few jokes were cracked,
but the humour, and ultimate sadness, lay in the characters.
"Gordon Chater demonstrated not only the feeling for
comedy he is know to have," wrote TV Times' critic
F.C. Kennedy, "but also a hitherto untried sense of
dramatic characterisation... Here is a craftsman at work."
Despite the easier pace, Chater still felt the pressure.
In 1968, he was in hospital, officially recovering from
a heart attack. In truth, he had been suffering from severe
depression, culminating in an overdose of sleeping pills.
Though he recovered, he left McGooley and was given his
own, short-lived revue show, The Gordon Chater Show.
Apart from the occasional series - including the perennial
Snake Gully (1972), with he and Garry McDonald as Dad and
Dave - he would do little television work after that. Eventually,
The Elocution of Benjamin Franklin would take his career
in another direction.
The monologue premiered in Sydney in 1976. Chater was Robert
O'Brien: elocution teacher and homosexual transvestite,
whose life is disrupted by the arrival of Benjamin Franklin,
a 12-year-old stutterer. Despite a generous amount of humour,
the play is ultimately tragic. At its conclusion, O'Brien
is growing old in a mental hospital.
Greeted with rave reviews - announcing that Chater had joined
the ranks of Australia's great actors - the play toured
every state apart from the censorship-prone Queensland.
In 1978, London manager James Hammerstein bought world rights
to Benjamin Franklin. Despite his initial intention to cast
a more famous actor, Chater was considered irreplaceable,
and did 900 performances abroad.
American critics were just as impressed as their Australian
colleagues - the New York Post praised "some of the
best acting seen in New York this season" - but box-office
was disappointing. Chater, however, was given more American
work - appearing in such plays as Richard III and The Interview,
a two-hander with Keir Dullea, which prompted Chicago critic
Claudia Cassidy to tag the 57-year-old Chater "the
discovery of the year".
After mixed reviews for Lady Bracknell's Confinement and
a role in the patchy comedy film, This Won't Hurt a Bit
(1993), he sought an active retirement - publishing his
autobiography, [The Almost Late] Gordon Chater, in 1996.
One of his last television appearances was an ABC profile
in 1995. When Channel 7 would not provide archival footage
of Mavis and McGooley, Chater sent them a letter: "I
am 72 now, dying, and hope to have something to leave my
remaining family apart from my ashes."
His report on his health was misleading, but he made his
point. Channel 7 complied, agreeing to reveal Chater's brilliance
to another generation.
Chater, who never married, is survived by his niece Jane
Micklewright, his nephew John Riach, and their children.
