1971-79: STAGE: MOLLY, COMEDY THEATRE (1978)

Simon Gray's Molly marked a return to the West End for TP in 1978 when he was cast as the irascible and impotent older husband of a femme fatale.

The story line bears close resemblance to Terrence Ratigan's Cause Celebre (based on the infamous 1930s Rattenbury murder case) and Gray had first written it as a television play for The Wednesday Play slot on BBC Television. Coincidentally, it aired just a matter of weeks ahead of TP's own appearance in the same strand in A Crucial Day in the Life of a Grocer's Assistant.

Simon Gray

It was a good play, perhaps even a fine play, and there was little doubting the pedigree of the production with Stephen Hollis's assured direction and a widely admired and lauded cast (TP starred alongside Billie Whitelaw, Barbara Atkinson and Anthony Allen), however, it was just not robust enough a piece to survive the choppy, commercial waters of the West End that prevailed in the winter of 1978 (later to be dubbed the 'Winter of Discontent').

Despite having opened to some very fine notices, including a virtual love letter to Billie Whitelaw by Bernard Levin in his Times review, Molly lasted only five weeks in the West End.

The premature close of the play was a bitter disappointment for the cast who felt that the box offices receipts were more than survivable, however the theatre management had their eyes on another production which was in search of a West End home. That their mid-race change of horses backfired on them (their new horse surviving not much longer than Molly had) was scant compensation.

For TP, the whole experience was a considerable and personal let-down. Not yet fifty, the role of a kindly orge in his advanced years was an exciting challenge. He also greatly admired Simon Gray's writing and found the playwright to be 'a man of the most infinite charm', despite being a very tough taskmaster.

Perhaps, in a career marked by so much theatrical success, he was not accustomed to failure on this scale. It left a bad taste in the mouth.

Years later, reflecting on the experience, he'd remark with more than a taciturn edge, 'Sometimes, that's just the way the cookie crumbles'.