Channel 4’s documentary about the unexplained death of Stuart Lubbock is a desperately sad affair. For those unfamiliar with the episode, Lubbock was a healthy, young (31) Essex man who was found unconscious in a swimming pool at the home of Michael Barrymore at about 5.40am in the early hours of 31 March 2001. Lubbock died during or after a late-night party at the address, hosted by Barrymore, then the biggest name in British television. Lubbock and others had met Barrymore at a nightclub in Harlow, and were invited back. At 8.23am, Lubbock was officially pronounced dead.
Those are about the only universally acknowledged facts in the whole business. For Barrymore: The Body in the Pool, Channel 4 obtained extensive – and impressive – access to members of the Lubbock family, various lawyers, no fewer than four forensic pathologists who worked on the case, police officers, journalists, Barrymore’s ITV boss, and even the taxi driver who drove Lubbock and Barrymore to the party. Yet the mystery remains as disturbing as ever.
At one point, Paul McMullan, the tabloid hack who worked on the story for the News of the World, asks one of the most disturbing questions of all: if it had been some pretty young woman who had died that night, rather than a man allegedly part of a “gay orgy”, would the death remain unexplained to this day?
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The film has a suitably sombre tone for most of the time, but there are moments when the producers decide to insert some sensationalist thumpy music to up the dramatic pace – quite jarringly. Despite some hype along the way, the main scoop seems to be the release of a recording of the original phone call made to summon an ambulance. The question, then, remains: who, if anyone, killed Stuart Lubbock at Barrymore’s party?
Like most popular mysteries, conspiracy theories and high-profile unsolved crimes, there is plenty of speculation and expert opinion. Every person who watches Barrymore: The Body in the Pool is invited to weigh these up, and play amateur detective. It is hard to resist.
The forensic scientists, for example, agree that Lubbock suffered a serious injury to his anus, one that’s consistent with it being the subject of a violent penetration by some object or other. Might it be the pool thermometer, which has since gone missing? Or some other weapon? Was the injury acquired in some other way? Was Lubbock conscious at the time? Why was there little evidence of “restraint” or “struggle” injuries? Could, as Barrymore suggested, the injuries have occurred after Lubbock left his home, at the hospital, say?
Was Lubbock gay? His family vehemently deny the notion, though the tabloid reporting of the time consistently said it was a “gay binge” gone wrong. Why did he accept an invitation to go to Barrymore’s home? How did the cocaine and MDMA end up in Lubbock’s bloodstream (as well as the alcohol)? Could Barrymore swim (and thus might have saved Lubbock’s life)? Why did Barrymore leave his home soon after the ambulance arrived? How did vital pieces of evidence go missing?
And, most of all, why does no one who was there seem to have any compelling explanation – to the satisfaction of all concerned – about what went on? Barrymore, in his latest interview with Piers Morgan last year, still maintained that the death had nothing to do with him, that it was a tragic drowning.
So they do, and it is distressing to witness the pain and suffering that Lubbock’s untimely death still inflicts on those closest to him. His ex-wife (they had divorced before he died) testified to what a charming young man he was, though a little too wayward for their marriage to survive. We see his father Terry, and his brother Kevin, both apparently in poor health, still struggling to come to terms with what happened.
Though it is never spelt out, you come away with the impression that they will be gone before they have found the answers to their questions about Stuart Lubbock’s fate. Although the Essex police are confident someone murdered Lubbock that night – and they have their views on who that might be – there has never been a trial for any offence, and the sincerity of their beliefs does not in itself constitute a “guilty verdict”. DCI Stephen Jennings, currently in charge of the inquiry, states in the film: “I believe very much that Stuart Lubbock was raped and murdered.” But he cannot (thus far) prove it.
There have been coroner’s enquiries, arrests and various prosecutions, but nothing that resembles justice or resolution of the matter. The Lubbock family are frustrated beyond measure at the authorities’ failure to discover the truth. The anger is palpable, and prompts the same feeling in the viewer.
This is no ancient mystery from before the dawn of forensics since it happened in the 21st century. Huge amounts of material were collected at the scene at the time and most of the relevant parties are still alive. Three of them, including Barrymore, were once arrested on suspicion of sexual assault and murder, though the matter was later dropped on the advice of the Crown Prosecution Service. It is a literally pitiable display of official incompetence, partly admitted by the police.
Whatever happened, it seems Barrymore will never strike it lucky again. Though few people under the age of about 35 have ever heard of him nowadays, Michael Barrymore was once the most ubiquitous man on British television. He did everything – gameshow host, song’n’dance man, chat show favourite. His catchphrase – “Awight?”– was instantly identifiable. Now, despite sporadic attempts at a comeback, including Celebrity Big Brother in 2006 and a recent appearance on Dancing on Ice, he is an obscure figure, from a time before Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr, before the F-bombs started raining down.
Try as I might, I find it hard to feel all that sorry for Barrymore, despite his “troubled past” and the undoubted trauma of coming out as gay late in his life (in 1995, during a drag night in an east end boozer, as it goes). I’m just someone who can never separate the on-screen lovable, chirpy, cheeky Barrymore persona with the body in the pool. No mystery there.
