EastEnders' comeback kid: how Danny Dyer became a proper naughty national treasure
You want a clump, is that it? I’m gonna iron you right out.” On Friday night, Danny Dyer makes his long-awaited return to EastEnders and wastes no time in taking his place at the heart of the Albert Square action.
Dyer’s character, Queen Vic landlord Mick Carter, is incandescent to find daughter-in-law Whitney in his bed - with Woody, Mick’s replacement as pub manager. Salt-of-the-earth Mick throws cocky Woody’s clothes onto the street (“I’m taking the rubbish aht!”) and tells him to sling his hook. The pair soon come to blows. Yes, it’s full-on fisticuffs within the first minute. A good ole Cockney tear-up. Welcome back, Lord Daniel Of Dyer. We’ve missed you.
It won’t be the first sighting of Dyer on BBC One this week. He recently donned his best whistle for the Bafta TV Awards, where he was nominated in the Must-See TV Moment category for his glorious turn on genealogy series Who Do You Think You Are?, during which Dyer discovered he was descended from King Edward III, as well as William The Conqueror and Thomas Cromwell.
“I need to get my nut around this,” growled the genuinely shocked actor. “And then I’m gonna treat myself to a massive ruff.”
(He was ultimately pipped to the golden mask gong by the equally memorable “racer snakes vs baby iguanas” chase sequence from Planet Earth). David Attenborough against Danny Dyer was truly a clash of the TV titans. This time, the 91-year-old naturalist came out on top.
To add insult to injury, an iguana proceeded to troll the defeated Dyer live on-air. In a subtitled video message of thanks, the victorious reptile said: “OMG is that his Royal Highness Danny Dyer? Better luck next year, buddy.” Cut to Dyer’s disbelieving shake of the head and rueful chuckle in the auditorium.
Both these appearances - his triumphant return to Walford and self-deprecating Bafta cameo - are testament to Daniel John Dyer’s status as a bona fide national TV treasure. A position that, just five years ago, few would have bet on him ever attaining - and just the latest twist in the fluctuating career trajectory of this unlikely hero.
Born and bred in Canning Town, East London - no “Mockney” accents here - Dyer’s working-class parents split up when he was nine. A few years later, he began attending a local drama school for children of single-parent families. By 14, his gifts had been spotted by a talent agent and he was cast in landmark Granada crime drama Prime Suspect 3 - the one about the murder of a rent boy.
The self-confessed “spotty teenager” found himself working alongside Helen Mirren on a show which won two Baftas and an Emmy. Not a bad first credit for a rookie actor.
Further TV bit parts followed, in the likes of Cadfael, Frost, The Bill and Soldier Soldier, before Dyer landed his debut big screen role in cult clubbing comedy Human Traffic. As fast-talking slacker Moff, he stole the 1999 film from under his co-stars’ noses. “The weekend has landed” went the tagline. Dyer’s career had lift-off.
His next breakthrough, which might surprise casual observers of the Dyer oeuvre, came on stage at London’s Almeida in the premiere of Harold Pinter’s Celebration. Dyer went on to appear in two more Pinter productions, including the National Theatre’s revival of No Man’s Land. The Nobel prize-winning playwright became his close friend and mentor. “Harold made me the man I am today,” says Dyer. “He was the only one who could really tell me off. I miss him dearly.”
The Noughties, however, saw Dyer starring in low-budget Britflicks of, shall we say, variable quality. They weren’t all without merit - Borstal Boy, Goodbye Charlie Bright and The Business are worth your time - but following the success of gritty hooligan fest The Football Factory, Dyer found himself typecast in hardman action roles. A Cockney Tom Cruise. A cut-price Jason Statham in straight-to-DVD gangster stinkers.
Dyer was often the best thing in them and remains refreshingly candid about his questionable choices. “Thirty-five f______ films,” he says. “Some are s___, I’ll hold my hands up, but I’ve also made some f______ brilliant ones. Every actor has made shit films. Michael Caine’s well-known for making s___ films but he’s still a national treasure.” Hard to argue with that.
It’s this image of Dyer - the professional geezer, all swagger and rhyming slang, always up for a pint and a punch-up, shouting “Proper nawty!” and “Jog on!” - which is seared into the public consciousness, making him something of a joke in snooty circles.
He milked his hardman phase for far too long, undoubtedly - hosting blokey cable series like Danny Dyer’s Deadliest Men, endorsing provincial nitespots as “Proper gaffs” and doing an ill-fated stint as a lad mag’s agony uncle - but there’s far more to Dyer than this. The man can act, even if he’s less adept at picking roles.
One part he was born to play, however, was his current one. Dyer vowed to resist the lure of EastEnders as long as he could (“I’ll do it when I’m 50, fat and bald,” he joked when the soap’s bosses first approached him in 2009) but four years ago, he finally caved in. Well, there were mortgage payments to keep up and he’s a father-of-three these days.
As devoted family man Mick, Dyer is smartly playing against type: Mick’s an alpha male but a big softie beneath the surface and certainly no hardnut. The role has reinvented Dyer in the popular imagination and rescued his career from the DVD bargain bin. He has formed a winningly fiery double act with Kellie Bright as screen wife Linda, full of chemistry and convincing romance.
Dyer’s ambition, he said, was to become “the saviour of EastEnders” and create “the greatest soap character of all time”. Perhaps not as immodest as it sounds: his arrival in Albert Square increased ratings and he won the Serial Drama Performance prize at the National Television Awards for the two years running.
It’s a demanding role, which he says involves learning “50 pages of dialogue per day”. As the pub landlord, he’s in pretty much every episode. Indeed, the pressure took its toll and three month ago, it was announced that Dyer would be taking a "short break" from the show, amid rumours of excessive drinking.
Dyer, who turns 40 this summer, clearly battles with his demons but it’s partly this vulnerability that make him so well-loved and so rounded a performer. The strong suspicion is that Dyer feels a tad trapped by his geezer image and, like Mick, is a sensitive soul underneath. As Dyer himself says: “Embrace your ' insecurities and contradictions. Don’t let 'em drown the f___out of ya.”
That’s another crucial element of Dyer’s appeal: he’s flat-out funny, all twinkly charisma and tongue-in-cheek machismo. See his throwaway critique of pretentious gastropubs: "You're going in for a drink and a laugh with your mates. You don't need a six-course Thai menu and an interior by Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen to do that." Or his attitude to healthy living: “If the body is a temple, mine’s a f______ windowless shed.”
When the credits rolled on Who Do You Think You Are?, the newly regal Dyer dismissed the BBC camera crew with: “Get off my driveway, paupers.” He’s also smarter than he looks. Several years ago, he remarked: “Is it me or is this Donald Trump geezer completely off his strange-looking nut?”
Each year on September 11, his classic 2012 tweet goes viral again: “Can’t believe it’s been 11 years since them slags smashed into the Twin Towers. It still freaks my nut out to this day.” After two months off our screens, Danny Dyer's back with a bang. It promises to be the latest chapter in the chequered story of this authentic, irresistible and deceptively talented force of nature. Proper nawty.
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