Sir William Connolly CBE – better known to us all as Billy – is without doubt a truly established part of our Union’s cultural landscape, and has been for what feels like forever, but in the best possible sense. Having started out as a folk singer in the late 1960s, Connolly moved into stand-up comedy, and it was the start of a long and esteemed career, which would see him branch out into acting, presenting and art.
His launch into the big time came with a 1975 appearance on BBC’s Parkinson, and he would go on to rack up the highest number of guest turns on the Saturday night talk show. With Connolly quickly becoming a household name, he rounded out the year by topping the charts with a parody of Tammy Wynette’s song ‘D.I.V.O.R.C.E.’. Sandwiched amidst all of this was a seven-week tour, which culminated in his playing gigs in Dublin and Belfast, at a time when tensions were at a high, with three members of Irish cabaret group Miami Showband having all been killed in a sectarian attack just three months earlier.
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With the Troubles as their backdrop, the performances were captured by filmmakers Murray Grigor and David Peat, being intercut with some behind-the-scenes footage of Connolly, the end result being presented under the title of Big Banana Feet, taken from the giant novelty footwear that he wore on stage during his shows. The documentary – inspired by D.A. Pennebaker’s 1967 film Don’t Look Back, which chronicled Bob Dylan’s 1965 tour of Britain – had limited theatrical and home video releases, before the distributor went bust, and the film seemed to vanish, with only some very poor quality VHS copies in circulation as a record of its existence.
Fortunately, two 16mm prints had survived – one deposited by Murray Grigor at the University of Southern California’s Pacific Film Archive, the other having surfaced in a private collection – and a full restoration has been carried out by the BFI. For the first time in many decades, audiences now have a legitimate opportunity to see this raw and unfiltered look at the Glaswegian folk hero in his prime, firmly reminding us of the power of his performance and stage presence, blending his storytelling craft with his musical talents, with a mix of trademark wit and ribaldry, and never missing a beat when it comes to cocking a snook at convention.
What Grigor and Peat have managed to capture here in Big Banana Feet is not only the essence of a performer who is coming into his own and clearly approaching the height of his powers, but also what a parlous backdrop there was to Connolly’s Irish shows, with the Troubles presenting such a volatile powder keg which could easily have ignited at any point. Although not captured on film, the knowledge that in the region of 30 weapons were confiscated from audience members at one gig shows just how dangerous the situation genuinely was, and despite Connolly’s banter and bonhomie, you sense a very palpable tension at times.
Not that Connolly steers away from areas of controversy, and there are moments which in the hands of another performer may have seen things come rather badly unstuck, yet you see the master craftsman that he is reading the room and being able to get the crowd on his side with potentially contentious material. Rather than inflaming tensions, Connolly shows us all that laughter can be a great healer, and comedy can help to bridge the divide between folk, bringing them together by providing a release valve. Brave is the heckler who attempts to take on Connolly, and he soon cuts them down to size with retorts which also acknowledge the setting against which he is performing.
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As well as Big Banana Feet, we get a decent amount of extras in this set, including a 2024 appearance by Grigor, as well as Connolly’s then-road manager Billy Johnson, at the Glasgow Film Festival. We also have Clydescope, a 1974 short feature by Grigor taking a look at the history and legacy of the Clyde, with Connolly as our guide, providing plenty of light-hearted moments throughout. Another of Grigor’s short films – the 1975 documentary BLAST – offers a fascinating look at the short lived Vorticist art movement of the early 20th Century, which is enlightening and captivating in equal measure. We also get a brief demo of the level of restoration work carried out on Big Banana Feet, with the side-by-side comparison showing us just what a poor state the existing materials were in.
A very nice addition comes in the form of an accompanying booklet, with writing by Grigor alongside pieces by journalist Claire Buchanan, academic David Archibald, and BFI content remastering lead Douglas Weir, as well as a reproduction of a contemporary review. While not technically a ‘lost’ film, Big Banana Feet’s future seemed uncertain, given the fact it was out of circulation for so long. However, with the BFI’s work in preserving it, this seminal documentary feature is thankfully now in a fit state to be enjoyed for decades to come. When it comes to an intimate and candid look at peak Connolly, this BFI package showing us the Big Yin at his finest can surely be considered a Big Win.
Big Banana Feet is out now on Blu-ray from the BFI.
