Alan Bennett: interview

Alan Bennett‘s gentle Yorkshire tones and middle-class appeal too often pigeonhole him. But from his early days in ’Beyond the Fringe‘, through his pioneering television screenplays, to his latest work, ’The History Boys‘ – now a new film – a sly subversiveness has always permeated his work. Famously wary of journalists, the Camden resident grants Time Out a rare and candid interview to discuss the eroticism of education, the Queen‘s sense of humour and why he loves ’Footballers‘ Wives‘.

On the set of 'The History Boys' with Nicholas Hytner and Richard Griffiths

Bennett likes to write about himself. Witness his two volumes of diaries and self-reflective essays, ‘Writing Home’ and ‘Untold Stories’, the latter of which, published last year, marked a new openness in his approach to autobiography. In a 658-page volume of collected diaries and essays, he broke new ground by writing about his sexuality and his long-term partner, Rupert Thomas (including a detailed account of how both were victims of a violent homophobic assault in Italy in 1992). He described in detail both his grandfather’s hushed-up suicide and his mother’s mental illness. He wrote much of ‘Untold Stories’ in the wake of the discovery in 1997 that he had colon cancer: he figured he could be less coy in memoirs that would appear posthumously. He recovered from cancer – but published nevertheless.

His dramatic writing, too, has often reflected his own experiences (think of ‘The Lady in the Van’ or the ‘Talking Heads’ monologues), but Bennett bristles at the idea of other writers doing the job for him. A mistrust of journalists runs through his diaries, not least when he remembers how the Guardian once added an ‘Oo ’eck’ to one of his quotes. He feels that interviewers and editors too often jump on his stereotyped image and once, the rumour goes, cancelled an interview with the Independent on Sunday after a journalist tagged him ‘winsome’.

I’d argue that Bennett is a more radical writer than he is often given credit for. The familiar, welcoming surface of his work for stage and television – think Thora Hird, Patricia Routledge and the safe dramatic locales of grammar schools, suburban sitting-rooms and Yorkshire tea shops – veils material that is more biting and radical than it first appears. In the case of ‘The History Boys’, Bennett argues, provocatively, that a little grope here or there in the classroom is more enriching than being taught by a teacher who cares only about exam performances or – brace yourself – ‘gobbets’. Such a claim is never made entirely explicitly or even presented in a manner that could be called controversial, which points to another characteristic of Bennett’s writing: you can read his work in any number of ways. No wonder he attracts the approval of both the literary establishment and Middle England. While his plays sell out at the National, his audio CDs top the bestseller lists at WH Smith. His work identifies no real distinction between high and low culture. He’s written as much – probably more – for television as for the stage, and cinema remains a rare, even distant pursuit for him. He’s produced two original screenplays, ‘A Private Function’ (1984) and ‘Prick Up Your Ears’ (1987), and adapted both ‘The Madness of King George’ and ‘The History Boys’ for film, but he generally prefers the intimacy of television to the machine of cinema.