Kaff’s facets: a rather superior celebrity memoir, this - and to be expected for these days, Ms Burke is as well-known for her writing and directing as she is for acting.
It’s warmly funny, self-effacing and the opposite of the usual aggrandisement; rather this than the ghosted ‘autobiography’ of a 22-year-old whose life began and ended on X Factor. Burke conjures as much farce and surrealism out of the lunacies of ‘the business’ as she does pathos from a motherless child largely reared by her not much older brothers since her father proved to be a bit useless and drunken.
One suspects there’s more sadness there than she’s saying, but it’s her choice and she keeps close control lest anyone start to pity her.
Best are the comic turns: teaming up with James Dreyfus, pre-Gimme, to annoy a prissy director, earning them both trips to “cunt corner”; Ray Winstone telling a method-acting Charlie Creed-Miles to go down the shop for some fags, and Kathy following suit, because his character was lower status in Nil By Mouth; or deciding when a director slagged her off to “take it on the chins.” Best is when, post Cannes win, she becomes irritated by the deluge of offers, “and I just wanted to get back to the theatre and write some fucking plays.” Mais oui, Madame.
From Lynda La Hughes to Queen Mary I taking in Perry the teenager and AbFab’s belligerent magazine executive Magda en route, she’s certainly got range. Earthy is a term of approval rarely heard these days, but Our Kaff has it in spades. More, please, Mrs!