Can ‘The Full Monty’ Lightning Strike Twice?

Forget the insanely ripped physiques and MTV-level choreography of Magic Mike — it’s the dad bods and the dad dancing of The Full Monty that got both critics and cinemagoers hottest under the collar. Indeed, the feelgood tale of six unemployed Brits who form a Chippendales-style act to make ends meet bagged four Oscar nods, winning Best Original Musical or Comedy Score. It also netted an astonishing $258 million (on a budget of just $3.5m) in global box office: until Titanic came along a few months later, it was the U.K.’s highest-grossing film ever. But can the unlikely strippers still be as crowd-pleasing “25 years, seven Prime Ministers and 100 broken political promises” on?

Yes, hot on the heels of Fatal Attraction and True Lies, The Full Monty is the latest big screen classic to get the belated small-screen treatment. Rather than a straight-forward remake, however, the eight-part series continues the original story with all the original main cast. And the last quarter-century has been kinder to some than others. 

Lomper (Steve Huison) is now mixing business with pleasure, running an old-school café named Big Baps with his long-term partner Dennis (Paul Clayton): this time round returning screenwriter Simon Beaufoy makes sure the gay relationship isn’t just implied. Guy (Hugo Speer) is living the suburban dream with a much younger pregnant girlfriend (the actor’s dismissal for inappropriate conduct means his story is cut short half-way through). And Robert Carlyle’s Gaz, now a hospital porter with a teenage daughter and grandson, still has a zest for life, cooking up harebrained schemes involving Banksy-esque graffiti artists and abducted canine winners of Britain’s Got Talent. 

Given a much rawer deal, Dave (Mark Addy) is a disillusioned caretaker at the dilapidated high school ruled with an iron fist by his adulterous headmistress wife Jean (Lesley Sharp). Gerald (Tom Wilkinson, whose screentime lasts barely five minutes) seems to have resigned himself to a life of moaning about modern pop culture over copious amounts of tea. While Horse (Paul Barber) has the most sobering storyline as a geriatric hoarder who spends his days trying to navigate the red tape of the UK’s disability allowance system.

The Full Monty has always been about more than just a bunch of out-of-shape guys getting their kit off, of course. Instead of rallying against the Thatcherism that brought the steel communities to its knees, though, this adaptation raises all kinds of more universal questions about the state of Tory Britain. From the proliferation of food banks to the one-size-fits-all approach to mental health, every storyline is grounded in the current age of austerity. 

At times, its socio-political slant can feel like a box-ticking exercise. For example, the fifth episode is dedicated to housing officer newcomer Darren (Miles Jupp) taking in a Kurdish asylum seeker and her teenage son. A noble cause, for sure, but one that feels like it’s been plucked from another show entirely. It’s also prone to speechifying: you’re never more than a few scenes away from a call-to-arms about the importance of the arts, for example, or a diatribe about cuts to the education system. 

Anyone expecting a purely feel-good comedy may therefore be left feeling slightly disorientated by how much it leans towards the gritty realism of Ken Loach. Proof of how close to the bone things get is the real-life advice numbers, displayed at the end credits, to help viewers who have experienced similar issues. 

Perhaps that’s the influence of another new addition, co-writer Alice Nutter, formerly of politicized anarcho-punks Chumbawamba (yes, the “Tubthumping” lot), who famously poured a bucket of water over Deputy PM John Prescott at the 1998 BRIT Awards. It’s just a shame none of the protests here are as entertaining. 

However, Nutter may also be responsible for one of The Full Monty’s improvements, the increased agency of its female characters. Little more than a bit-player in the movie, Sharp regularly takes center stage in the TV show thanks to her affair with colleague Dilip (Phillip Rhys Chaudhary) and terse friendship with music teacher Hetty (Sophie Stanton). Gaz’s daughter Destiny (Talitha Wing), meanwhile, makes the biggest impression out of all the new faces as a teenage tearaway with ambitions of becoming Sheffield’s answer to Cardi B. 

So, where’s the stripping, you may ask? Well, there isn’t any. This revival almost entirely ignores the original’s cheeky concept, save for a brief callback to the “You Can Leave Your Hat On” routine during what can only be described as the world’s most amiable hostage crisis. Amusing as the half-remembered reprisal is, you’ll be glad the show doesn’t require any more physical exertion, if only to save the older cast members’ knees. 

The chuckles elsewhere are few and far between. There’s a darkly comical misunderstanding in which Lomper’s penchant for racing pigeons sees him accused of human trafficking. And there are some nice lines about domestic drudgery. “The cowardly way would be to carry on until we hate each other” remarks Darren trying to gently break up with wife Paula (Kate Coogan) for a second time. “Isn’t that what everyone does?” comes her reply. Yet the more farcical elements – a joyride that gets wildly out of hand, a precarious rescue mission atop a soccer stadium floodlight – largely fall flat. 

Some fans may be disappointed at this lack of belly laughs, and indeed the lack of any bellies. To be fair, The Full Monty Version 2.0 is more interested in reflecting the UK’s national consciousness than tickling the funny bone, something its bleak disposition undoubtedly achieves. It won’t get anyone throwing their knickers but the aging gang still deserves a round of applause for avoiding a more obvious encore. 

Jon O’Brien (@jonobrien81) is a freelance entertainment and sports writer from the North West of England. His work has appeared in the likes of Billboard, Vulture, Grammy Awards, New Scientist, Paste, i-D and The Guardian.