Becoming Victoria Wood – Review

Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 30 minutes, Director – Catherine Abbott

Documentary looking at the early life and career of Victoria Wood, and how one influenced the other.

Becoming Victoria Wood saves The Ballad Of Barry And Freda – undoubtedly one of the greatest pieces of musical comedy there’s been – for almost the closing stages of the documentary. The joyous confidence with which Wood sings and plays the song from behind the piano has a burst of even greater energy and laughs than usual thanks to how Catherine Abbott has looked at the life of the late comedian and writer over the previous 80-minutes.

There’s plenty of admiration and praise throughout the film, even without the talking heads, but there’s an avoidance of a complete hagiographic feeling as we see how Wood’s early life influenced her work. Tales of her school and home life bring new meaning to songs and sketches as we see Wood’s rise from TV talent shows to her own series, often alongside the consistently amusing sight of Julie Walters. The ways in which life and work are brought together are quiet but effective. There’s a film of empathy and understanding here that comes through in the framing of the clips used throughout.

For 90-minutes there’s a breezy and engaging documentary here. One that gets a number of chuckles across in the excerpts of Wood’s work that are used, while capturing a lightly emotional aspect to them through the context they’re given. It’s lightly done but makes the film more engaging and effective, complimenting the love for the subject matter that’s present in both the way in which the overall film is made and the fond words of talking heads – which includes school friends, early career bill sharers and touring partners such as Jasper Carrott, performers such as Maxine Peake, who got her start in Wood’s sitcom Dinnerladies, and French And Saunders.

You can feel that Abbott, and many others involved, genuinely view Victoria Wood as an inspiration. Not just for her work, but the barriers she broke through on multiple occasions. The quietness which she lived her private life in is explored, having stemmed from her childhood, which some label as distant, and possible anxieties that contrasted with her stand-up persona, which we see grow in confidence over the years. It all starts to culminate with the chuckles and exuberance of Barry And Freda. Joy, laughter and a sense of heart and admiration.

A fitting and well-framed tribute to Victoria Wood that captures a lightly emotional honesty in the comedian and writer’s humour thanks to the context of her life and barriers faced given to her songs, stand-up and sketches.