I do like a good theatrical memoir: they tend to promise a wealth of on and offstage anecdotes, some insider insights into the life of an actor, and at least a few targeted attacks on people who crossed the memoirist in some way.
On this front, with Beyond Togetherness – A Life, Barry Creyton delivers – in spades. Shovelfuls, even (to mix the metaphor).
As Creyton states in his preface, “Some names have been changed to protect the innocent, others have been stated clearly to expose the motherfuckers.”
In just short of 350 large format paperback pages, Creyton tells us his story from birth to the present day, covering more than 70 years as a musician, actor, singer, composer, director, author, and writer for the stage, small and big screens, and radio: the hits, the misses, the unexpected opportunities, the disappointments, the personal dramas, the friendships, and the enmities – all set on a truly global stage across Australia, the UK, east and west coast USA (and some bits in between), Europe, and beyond.
I must admit I wasn’t aware of the full scope of Creyton’s career. I knew something of his early work in Australian television from old internet clips of The Mavis Bramston Show, that groundbreaking and culture-shifting satirical sketch comedy show that ran from 1964-68, in which Creyton was a key performer and writer for its first two years (including writing its theme song “Togetherness”, which helps give this book its title).
I also vaguely recall seeing him on Australian TV in the 1980s, but I had no idea what a full and rich career he had on several continents in theatre, tv, radio, and film. If a singer-dancer-actor is a triple threat, Creyton has been at least a sextuple threat (maybe not the dancing so much, as he willingly and humorously admits).
I somehow missed most of his live stage work in Australia, perhaps because much of it took place in northern Sydney theatres I didn’t frequent very often, like the Ensemble and Marian Street, or in other cities entirely.
I do, though, know of almost everyone he’s ever worked with (and even directly know some), and that in itself is an astonishing roll call (role call, perhaps?). Not all of Creyton’s co-stars escape his sometimes acerbic or even vicious assessments, including some very famous and awarded actors.
That, of course, is exactly why we read memoirs like these and, to be fair, Creyton is equally wholehearted in his admiration for those who deserve it, which is just as entertaining.
As you might expect for someone who has made as much of his living from writing as performing, the book is a delight to read: well structured, highly engaging, truly hilarious in parts and unashamedly sad and emotional in others.
Creyton doesn’t often go beyond his personal experience to commenting on the industry (although he does dive into politics, particulary US) but just his life experience alone is more than enough to fill a book.
There are some quirks I noted. Creyton’s expression typically ranges from very British to cultivated Australian but for some reason the spelling is almost uniformly American. This might be deliberate, to convey a sense of his multi-continental career, but feels more like the editor used a US spellchecker. It feels odd.
This extends to using some US terminology, like “flashlight” instead of “torch” which also rankles against British expressions like “One could be excused for …”.
A bit more seriously, there are some glaring typos: “Ugly Dave Grey” instead of “Ugly Dave Gray”, “Row vs Wade” for “Roe vs Wade”, “Redcliff” for “Redcliffe”, for example. These seem all to be proper nouns so maybe the spellchecker didn’t pick them up.
These are not dealbreakers, but in someone so erudite, articulate, literate, and precise, they do stand out.
Some fact-checking would have been good, too.
On a Melbourne wall in the ’50s, some high-minded soul wrote:
“What would you do if Christ came to Carlton tomorrow?”
Under it was the reply:
“Move Ron Barassi to centre forward.”
It’s a great joke but it was in the 1970s and famously referred to Hawthorn and Peter Hudson being moved to centre half-forward. There is no “centre forward” position in Australian Rules football.
Someone should have picked this up and, in a book of recollections, it does make me wonder how many other facts should have been checked. Especially from someone who is happy to point out errors in other people’s memoirs.
In his Acknowledgements, Creyton doesn’t give the usual thanks to editor or publisher, so maybe there was no outside oversight.
I noticed there was no summary of the book on the back cover, either, just two colleague blurbs that are also reproduced inside the book, along with other praise.
On the whole, these are minor quibbles that in no way stopped me enjoying the book. It is a romp, and a delightful one. If Creyton has a big ego (and he admits he does), it’s indisputably well-deserved and tempered by bursts of humility.
It’s certainly a part of what makes Beyond Togetherness – A Life a cracking good read.
Recommended.