Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders didn’t just make a show. They built a weird, sprawling, loud, and occasionally terrifying universe that basically redefined what British sketch comedy could look like for thirty years. Honestly, if you grew up watching the BBC in the late 80s or the 90s, their faces are probably burned into your brain alongside images of giant shoulder pads and increasingly expensive movie parodies. French and Saunders comedy wasn’t just about being funny; it was about being incredibly physically brave and arguably more obsessed with cinema than any other comedy duo in history.
They met at the Central School of Speech and Drama in 1977. At first, they didn't even like each other. That’s a real thing—they were in different cliques. But by the time they hit The Comic Strip club in Soho, they were a unit. They were the "girls" among the "alternative comedy" boys—Rick Mayall, Adrian Edmondson, Nigel Planer. While the boys were doing violent slapstick or political shouting, French and Saunders were doing something much stranger. They were observing. They were looking at how women talked to each other when men weren't in the room.
The Art of the "Fat and Thin" Dynamic
Most comedy duos have a straight man and a funny man. Think Laurel and Hardy. But with French and Saunders comedy, the roles were liquid. One minute Dawn is the wide-eyed innocent and Jennifer is the cynical bully; the next, they’ve swapped. They mastered the art of the "double act" by making it feel like a real, slightly toxic, but deeply loving friendship.
It’s about the status play.
They spent decades playing characters who were desperately trying to be more sophisticated than they actually were. Think about the "Modern Mother and Daughter" sketches. It’s painfully awkward. It’s Jennifer trying to be "cool" and Dawn being the embarrassed teen, or vice versa. They tapped into a specific British neurosis—the fear of being "common" or "boring"—and they turned it into high art.
You’ve probably seen the parody of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? That is perhaps the purest distillation of their energy. It’s grotesque. It’s loud. It involves a lot of makeup and a very genuine sense of malice that you just don't see in modern, "polite" sitcoms. They weren't afraid to look hideous. In fact, they seemed to prefer it. While other female performers of that era were being pressured to stay "glamorous," French and Saunders were busy putting on prosthetics to look like aging, bitter aging stars or bloated corporate executives.
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Why the Parodies Cost So Much Money
If you want to understand why the BBC eventually had to rein them in, look at the budget for their movie spoofs. We aren't talking about a few cardboard sets and a cheap wig. By the 1990s, French and Saunders comedy had become a massive production machine. They weren't just making fun of movies; they were recreating them frame-for-frame with a level of detail that was frankly obsessive.
Their Titanic parody? It used actual water tanks and massive sets. Their Silence of the Lambs sketch? It looked exactly like the film. They did The Exorcist, Misery, Harry Potter, and The Lord of the Rings.
- The Mamma Mia parody: They managed to get the actual cast members involved.
- The Madonna era: Jennifer Saunders' imitation of Madonna is legendary because it wasn't just a caricature; it was a character study in relentless ambition.
- The Spice Girls: They didn't just dress up; they captured the specific, chaotic energy of 90s girl power in a way that felt both affectionate and biting.
They once famously spent more on a single episode's production than some sitcoms spent on an entire season. But that was the point. The joke wasn't just the dialogue; the joke was the sheer audacity of two women from the comedy circuit standing on a multi-million pound set pretending to be Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio while eating ham sandwiches.
The Absolutely Fabulous Connection
A lot of people forget that Absolutely Fabulous actually started as a French and Saunders sketch. It was originally called "Modern Mother and Daughter." In the sketch version, Dawn played the daughter (Saffy) and Jennifer played the mother (Edina). When it became a full series, Dawn couldn't do it because she was busy with other projects, including The Vicar of Dibley.
This is where the history gets interesting.
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Even though they were a duo, they were also individual powerhouses. Jennifer wrote Ab Fab, which became a global phenomenon. Dawn became the "Queen of Sitcoms" with The Vicar of Dibley. Yet, they always came back to the sketch show. There was a gravity there. They knew that their specific chemistry—that weird, telepathic timing—was something they couldn't find anywhere else.
What People Get Wrong About Their Legacy
There’s this misconception that they were "safe" BBC comedy. That’s nonsense. If you actually go back and watch the early seasons, especially the stuff from the late 80s, it’s experimental. It’s surreal. They would have long, lingering shots of characters just staring at the camera. They would break the fourth wall constantly.
They were influenced by the "Alternative Comedy" movement, which was all about tearing down the old, racist, sexist jokes of the 70s. But they didn't do it by preaching. They did it by being funnier and more inventive than the men. They proved that women didn't have to play "the wife" or "the secretary." They could play the idiot, the villain, the hero, and the monster.
Honestly, without them, you don't get Smack the Pony. You don't get The Catherine Tate Show. You might not even get the specific brand of character-driven humor in Fleabag. They opened a door and then basically kicked it off the hinges.
The "Final" Shows and Beyond
They "retired" the sketch show multiple times. There was the "Series 6" in 2004, and then various specials. They did a massive farewell tour called Still Alive in 2008. But you can't really kill French and Saunders comedy. It’s a permanent fixture of the culture. Even now, when they appear on a podcast together or do a short clip for Comic Relief, the energy is exactly the same. They still make each other laugh. That’s the secret. You can tell when a comedy duo secretly hates each other. With Dawn and Jennifer, you're just eavesdropping on two best friends who think the world is slightly ridiculous.
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They are 2026's version of comedy royalty because they never stopped being relevant. They transitioned into books, film, and theater, but the sketch show remains the "North Star" of their careers.
How to Actually Appreciate French and Saunders Today
If you’re new to their work or just want to dive back in, don't just watch a "best of" compilation on YouTube. You miss the pacing. To really get it, you have to see the weirdness between the big parodies.
- Watch the "Extras" characters: The two women who work as extras on movie sets are their most underrated creation. It's meta-humor before meta-humor was a tired trope.
- Look for the physical comedy: Watch Dawn French’s face during the Baywatch parody. The sheer effort of trying to run in slow motion is a masterclass in clowning.
- Listen to the writing: Notice how they use repetition. They will say a name or a phrase until it stops being funny, then keep saying it until it becomes hilarious again.
- Check out their podcast: French and Saunders: Titting About is a perfect example of how their chemistry works without the costumes. It’s just two people talking, and it’s still better than 90% of scripted TV.
The real takeaway from their career isn't just that they were funny women. It's that they were geniuses of the form. They took the sketch show—a format that is incredibly easy to do badly—and turned it into a cinematic, surreal, and deeply human exploration of what it means to be a person (and usually a slightly embarrassed one).
Next Steps for the Fan or Researcher:
To truly understand their impact, your next move should be tracking down the original 1987-1993 episodes rather than just the later, high-budget specials. Pay attention to the "raw" energy of the live audience segments; this is where you see their improv roots from The Comic Strip. For a deeper look at the writing process, Jennifer Saunders’ autobiography Bonkers: My Life in Laughs provides a candid look at how they constructed those massive parodies under intense BBC pressure. Finally, compare their Harry Potter spoof ("Harry Potter and the Secret Chamberpot of Azerbaijan") to the actual film—the set design alone is a testament to their influence at the peak of their power.