It was only a matter of time. When you’re super-famous, it’s almost inevitable that you’ll end up flying a little too high, a little too close to the sun. Most of us would end up getting burned eventually. But if you happen to be a banana, you also run a serious risk of turning brown well before your time. The constant adulation from adoring fans, the extreme wealth, the red carpets – it’s bound to get to you eventually. When ABC announced that Bananas in Pyjamas would not be renewed, reference was made to revenue issues. This, quite frankly, ignores the fact that B1 and B2 have been out of control for some time now.
It was only a matter of time. When you’re super-famous, it’s almost inevitable that you’ll end up flying a little too high, a little too close to the sun. Most of us would end up getting burned eventually. But if you happen to be a banana, you also run a serious risk of turning brown well before your time. The constant adulation from adoring fans, the extreme wealth, the red carpets – it’s bound to get to you eventually. When ABC announced that Bananas in Pyjamas would not be renewed, reference was made to revenue issues. This, quite frankly, ignores the fact that B1 and B2 have been out of control for some time now.
Breakout roles for large pieces of fruit are rare within the entertainment industry. This is especially so for bananas. In the early days of film, bananas were often typecast: sidelined as being little more than skins on which comic actors would slip and fall. It wasn’t until 1967 and the acclaimed film adaptation of Tolstoy’s classic, Banana Karenina that fruit started to be viewed seriously in Hollywood. Even then, it would be several more decades before B1 and B2 would eventually stand astride the world, a mighty fruit colossus.
B1 (real name Brian Slagg) was born on the Sunshine Coast. A troubled kid, he came to Melbourne in the early 1990s searching for work as an actor. It’s fair to say that he had something of a slow start. After small roles in Home and Away and Neighbours, Brian first drew serious attention after his acclaimed performance as Willy Loman in Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. But despite the magazine covers and the awards, it was a chance meeting on the number 67 tram that was to change his life forever.
Barry Cavendish never wanted to be an actor. A shy child who dreamed of playing football for North Melbourne, he was renting a flat in Carnegie when he first met Brian. As he recounted to the New York Times in 1994, ‘It was clear that we should work together. The chemistry was obvious.’ Before breaking into the big time, they honed their act at hundreds of amateur nights and talent competitions. ‘It was a difficult time,’ recounted B1. ‘Those early audiences just didn’t get us. There were plenty of hecklers.’ Even worse, some people even tossed fruit at the budding superstars. ‘It was a shock,’ said B2. ‘They had no idea how insensitive they were being. It’s horrifying to be a working piece of fruit and to have someone throw a tomato at you. I’d be standing there and I’d suddenly catch a glimpse of a relative sailing past. It was pretty awful.’
Their luck changed when Play School agreed to include Brian and Barry – now calling themselves ‘Bananas in Pyjamas’ – in an animated sequence as part of the show. Just as The Simpsons had started off as a segment on Tracy Ullman’s program, it became obvious to everyone that B1 and B2 deserved a show of their own. They got it in 1991. Originally, the Bananas had wanted to do a hard-hitting current affairs program, but were eventually persuaded to do something for children. Despite their reservations, the result was a worldwide smash.
It’s impossible to downplay the impact of B1 and B2. Suddenly, doors were opening up. ‘It was nothing short of a fruit frenzy’, recalled B2 this week. There was the celebrated ensemble work ‘Fruit Salad’ by the Wiggles and both Barry and Brian were inundated with offers. B1 was the first to establish a movie career with the Western epic, High Plantain Drifter, whilst B2 chose more offbeat roles, including the cult classic Edward Bananahands. Having struggled for so long, the Bananas were eager to cash in. There were books, DVDs, soft toys and even their own fragrance; and they swiftly became a moneymaking machine. But as their fame grew and they started to earn some serious banana bread, Barry and Brian began to drift apart.
When news surfaced that Brian had lost the lead role in Baz Lurhman’s, The Grape Gatsby, a troubled portrait began to emerge. Pictures of a clearly disheveled B1 stumbling out of nightclubs and abusing photographers began to appear weekly in gossip magazines. B2, on the other hand, seemed to turn his back on acting altogether; releasing an album instead. Although a commercial flop, it’s hard not to listen to Barry’s rendition of Harry Belafonte’s ‘Banana Boat Song’ and not feel a little emotional. The cracks were starting to appear. Although the recent announcement caught many by surprise, to me it was inevitable.
Fame is terrible thing and extracts a high price from those who seek it. My only hope is that B1 and B2 managed to pull themselves together. I realize they may each be tempted to pursue solo careers, maybe with a view to lucrative reunion shows somewhere down the track. For all of the tragedy, it’s worth celebrating the fact that the Bananas have almost chalked up twenty-one years. It’s a remarkable achievement. I can barely get mine to make it through to the end of the week. In their prime, they were entertaining as well as healthy. Remember them this way.