Archives for posts with tag: comedy

A recent Twitter thread piqued my interest. This is rare, as I rarely have time to click on links or open entire threads. But this was a subject I was passionate about, namely the argument that Friends should have finished with Rachel being with Joey rather than Ross as they were a better match. Cue much contention on my timeline. So here is my two pence worth.

One of the big arguments in favour of Joey is how he treats Rachel compared to Ross. They are on an equal footing- both recognise the other’s hotness but still have respect for each other. Joey doesn’t at any point stake a claim to her. Yes, the brief time they are together the plotline isn’t exactly sizzling, but that is more the fault of the writers never treating their coupling as one that would work. It would have been ten times better on screen if they had put the effort in and made their relationship the end goal.

Ross, meanwhile, is possessive. As the thread writer stated, he has had a crush on Rachel since high school and hated every guy who has dated her for taking what he sees as his away from him. His jealously is always about the threat of losing his ‘property’. Rachel is never treated as his equal. In fact, it’s his need to be superior over her that plays a big part in the initial break up.

To illustrate this point further, let’s compare his jealousy to Chandler’s regarding Monica. Ross always sees the guy dating Rachel as taking something belonging to him, and that she should only be with him. Chandler’s jealousy revolves more around Monica finding someone better for her than him – he never presumes he is her only option, that he is the only one she has a right to be with. Both of the times this happens, first with the funny guy at work and then with the soulmate, Chandler’s instincts are that Monica has found someone better for her. Ross never sees the other guy as better for Rachel.

Interestingly, Monica’s one big jealousy flare up over Chandler with Wendy is similar to Ross’s, in that it is very much driven by ‘he should be with me, not her’. This makes me wonder if rather than this behaviour being ‘Ross is a bad boyfriend’ and it is more a family trait the writers have woven in.

The defence of Ross seems to be that he is funny. Now, don’t get me wrong, the sofa episode is a piece of comic glory and he has his moments. But funny doesn’t excuse possessiveness. He wouldn’t be less funny if he treated Rachel better. Besides, most of the humour is based on him doing something dislikeable and getting punished for it: breaking into his ex’s apartment to get a shirt back, dating a student and then emotionally blackmailing her dad etc.

So where does that leave us with Rachel and Ross getting back together again at the end? Well, I always saw the show as the evolution of Rachel. We meet her as someone whose only ambition was to live off her husband’s credit card. Over ten seasons, she builds an amazing career, becomes independent and proves to be an excellent mother. Her rekindling of her love with Ross disrupts her move to Paris, which suggests that history is going to repeat itself and that Ross’s controlling nature will stifle her personal growth. Unless, and I hope this is the case, that they both still go to Paris, that Rachel gets her time to shine and that Ross has learned his lesson and takes the passenger seat for once. Maybe then they are right for each other after all.

Sometimes I wonder rather than genres of TV we should just have two categories: “investment” and “disposable”. Investment TV is anything you need to watch regularly, say once a week, in order to understand what’s going. In other words, episode 10 will only make sense to those who have dedicated time to the first 9. Disposable TV is where you can dip in and out at will – each episode is self-contained or has minimal references to what went before.

The latter category has your talk shows, panel shows, some sitcoms depending on how much they invest in long-term plotlines, and animated comedies. Don’t get me wrong, you can still binge watch and diligently follow these shows, you just don’t necessarily get a pay-off.

One of my new favourite disposable shows is Bob’s Burgers. I have seen only four episodes and I couldn’t even tell you if they were from the same season or not, but it doesn’t matter. What is important is has it kept me entertained, which it undoubtedly has.

I find it far superior to Family Guy. The gag rate is much higher and it moves along at a quicker pace. Most importantly, it actually feels far less dark-hearted. There seems to be an increased need to make everyone an arsehole in FG, which BB doesn’t have. Instead of maliciousness, the driving force is pure eccentricity.

Everyone can find someone to identify with. I personally want to be Louise, with her constant energy and fearless drive. In the episodes I’ve watched she has brought down playground dictators, been an effective defence lawyer and rescued missing pets. The truth is I am probably Tina. Plain, easily panicked and happy to be in the middle of the road, albeit an eccentric one.

It may not be as edgy or willing to confront social issues as some its rivals, but I feel that it is no less funny. In fact, because it is not distracted by trying to make a point, the humour is allowed to be at the core.

So yes, it is disposable TV. But don’t let that make you think you are not watching high quality. Because you are. It may not be investment TV, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worthy of your time.

Graham Linehan is a personal hero of mine. He has created some of my favourite shows, including Father Ted, Black Books and The IT Crowd. He is also collaborating on Motherland, a pilot I enjoyed last year, which is missing some of the trademark absurdities of his other shows but is compensated by allowing the characters to zing off each other.

His current big project though is Count Arthur Strong. As with his other works, this is a collaboration, this time with Steve Delaney. It focuses on an out-of-work former variety star (played by Delaney), his eccentric friends and the put-upon ‘straight’ man Michael. The standard episode revolves around Arthur having some bizarre scheme in his head, which impacts on Michael’s hopes of a quiet life.

The most recent episode progressed as follows: Michael got called up for jury service, while Arthur got addicted to doing good deeds, everyone being followed by a vision of Brian Cox staring dreamily off into the landscape. In doing so he messes up both Michael’s jury service and gets entangled with organised crime, before everything reaches a climax with him overdosing on ‘gratitude’.

This is essentially a comedy of errors writ large. And it is joyful. This is largely because it is written in an innocent way – this is no black-hearted sitcom, with cruel people and comedy monstrousness. Interestingly, the first two series were put on in obscure timeslots, particularly series 2, which is strange when you consider how ‘family’ orientated the show is. No bad language, no sex, and minimal bad behaviour – this is something a ten-year-old could joyfully watch with their parents.

There are some Linehan trademarks. The absurdity has already been hinted at, but also the ensemble nature of the cast is a classic feature of his work. A small retinue of regular and semi-regular characters that have their oddities, but none of them nasty. It isn’t afraid to be tender either. In episode 1, a rare moment of clarity from Arthur helps save Michael from a mistake.

Steve Delaney is great as the eccentric and easily confused Arthur. The malapropisms are a nice touch, showing the character’s delusions in a light way. Rory Kinnear plays the unfortunate Michael well, and the rest of the cast all allow their moments to shine as well. All of this – the kindness in the characters, the warmth in the jokes, the silliness in the plots – makes this the perfect family sitcom. It’s a shame the BBC didn’t realise this two series ago.

In a year of celebrity deaths, the one that struck me most was Victoria Wood’s. It seemed shocking that someone who was still at the top of their game and producing brilliant television comedy and drama was being taken from us. No retirement, no dwindling into irrelevance. Just one day, gone.

Television obituaries tend to be clip shows, and, as we reach the anniversary of Wood’s death, so we have Our Friend Victoria, a clip show of her best works, each based around a theme and presented by a close friend and colleague. The most recent episode, for instance, focused on her take on appearance and was presented by Maxine Peake, who was discovered by Wood when she was casting for her sitcom Dinnerladies. The episode featured stand-up, sitcom clips and sketches around diet, fashion and beauty.

Amongst the highlights was Wood’s many mockings of exercise classes and their over-exuberant but under-qualified instructors, including ‘Fattitude’, the class for ‘Fatties with Attitude’. This was Wood showing that she was more than just someone who could write killer lines with perfect word choice and throw together a great comic song, she could also do physical comedy as well.

The drawback of shows like this though is, however well intentioned, the need for talking heads as it were distracts from the clip. A good example in this episode was the Shoe Shop sketch, a personal favourite of mine. Played out in full, this is a sketch that builds on the manic energy of eccentric shop assistant Julie Walters, her exaggerated mannerisms becoming more frantic with each line. Instead, it is interrupted whilst Walters discusses the rehearsals and other contributors offer their views, cutting of the energy and making the sketch feel oddly disjointed. Weirdly, in praising Wood, they accidentally tarnish the very beauty of the scenes they are trying to sell.

So what’s the solution? Well, one option is to perhaps make the show twice, one with the sketches just as they are, the other with a ‘commentary’. Whichever is screened on TV, the other could be made available online. The other is just to show Wood’s work in its entirety, either on screen or online, with a red button service for commentary for anyone who wants it.

This gripe may seem unkind, but I feel it is justified. When you are celebrating someone for being funny, you want people watching to find it funny. Anything you do to distract from that lessens the brilliance that you want people to see. Wood made a career out of sketches that built in energy and the viewer deserves to see that uninterrupted. We are watching to see her, not to hear what everybody else thought about her.

One of the things that struck me about the 2016 TV BAFTAS was the disparity between the winner of the male comedy performance award and the female. The latter was won by Michaela Coel, a new talent who is black and edgy in her humour. Her win was packaged not only as a BME triumph, but one of women prepared to be ‘ugly’ to be funny. It is a source of wonder to me that men are never asked to sacrifice their physical appearance to be seen as comedy gold but women are – as if being pretty is a barrier to writing a good joke and delivering it superbly.

Anyway, the male winner was Peter Kay, a popular established figure. It was almost as if the judges were trying to balance the two out – Coel a critical darling that was still comparatively unknown to the British viewer, Kay an everyman figure of immense popularity. One for the broadsheets to show that British TV is diverse, the other for the tabloids to cheer on as a ‘people’s choice’.

None of this is to do down Kay. He is an excellent writer and performer, with the same ear as Victoria Word for how words actually sound as well as the ability to show the slight absurdities of normal life. Car Share, which also picked up best sitcom last year, is a great example of this. The premise is simple: two co-workers get involved in a car share scheme and travel to work together. During their journeys, they discuss their lives, gossip about work and explore some of life’s odder moments. Of course, over time they discover they have feelings for each other, but never truly express them except in small gestures.

Kay’s co-star is Sian Gibson, playing the bubbly and naïve Kayleigh, the yin to Kay’s yang character John, a grumpy, no-nonsense manager. The conversations are zippy and worthwhile listening too twice if you can – the first time you are bound to miss a gem of a detail. Plus you have the little details that only people like Kay think of in a sitcom, like comedic road signs.

Then you have the secret third character, the radio station Forever FM. It’s essentially a parody of local commercial radio stations, where the music is squarely middle of the road and with adverts for companies accompanied by jingles or poorly thought through slogans. Worryingly, I find myself enjoying the music more and more.

It is also the source of one of my quibbles though. I find the where the characters pretend to be in music videos dull and a little cringey. I do wonder if this is Kay and Gibson’s way of filling thirty or so seconds when they aren’t sure where to go with the dialogue.

My other quibble is that, actually, I don’t want the characters to fall in love. I find it frustrating that we can’t have a man and a woman spending time with each other without it progressing beyond platonic. It would definitely lose something if they got together. For a start, it wouldn’t be a car share. It would just be a man and woman going to work together.

Despite this, it is still easy one of the best British sitcoms of the last few years. Keeping it simple has meant that they can just focus on the writing and the characters, the two things that matter. For once, being popular and a critical success are going hand-in-hand.

Adapting a novel for the screen, big or small, must be one of the most challenging projects on TV. It’s all very well having the plot nicely written for you, but this becomes a hindrance. Do you stick to it rigidly, digressions and all? Do you focus on just the main strands but axe some minor characters, who could actually be the most interesting of them all? Do change the ending to suit your ‘vision’?

However you answer these, you are bound to ruffle feathers. Be too close to the book and you risk making something pointless – after all, people may as well just read the story and get the full flavour unless you do something original. Lose a minor character and you remove potentially some of the best moments or give them to someone entirely unsuited. Change the ending or a major plot point and people will howl at the moon if you even put the slightest foot wrong with the change.

When it’s a book you love, you feel very protective of what is created. You have your vision and woe betide anyone who doesn’t go along with it. So I was nervous about the recent adaptation of Decline and Fall, a book I read as a precocious teenager. Or, at least I was nervous, until I realised I couldn’t remember most of it. I definitely recollect enjoying it and finding it funny though.

I suppose then, that this adaptation’s one and only test was to be funny. It stood a good chance with Jack Whitehall in the lead role of Paul Pennyfeather. Yet I was surprised by how lifeless he seemed to make the character. Of course, that is partially due to the nature of the story – the pitfalls that occur are caused by others’ actions on to him rather than his own agency. Even so, book Paul always seemed more robust than TV Paul. This could be partially due to a reader having more access to an inner monologue and the narration, where the satire is probably sharper. It could also be a faulty memory of mine.

Nevertheless, quietly politely rarely carries a story well, so it falls onto the supporting cast to give the story its life. They do this admirably, in particular Vincent Franklin as agnostic minister Prendergast and Douglas Hodge as Grimes, a man who is nearly always ‘in the soup’.

There are hints at the satire that Waugh was aiming for in his novel. The Bollinger Club and the government officials who manipulate their way to the top and stay there, largely by passing blame on to those underneath. The ‘trendy’ approach to maintaining discipline in prison. An education system that focuses on please parents over teaching children. All as true now as then. I can’t help feeling it couldn’t have been more savage though. This was satire with gloves on. What it needed was for a brick to be hidden in it.

The coarser end of the humour spectrum is rarely my bag. I am not one for fart jokes, and innuendo really needs to be delivered pitch perfect to raise a smile. I often find that shows like South Park, that at their best offer the most biting satire on TV, let themselves down by filling a gap in the plot with toilet humour.

So it’s a surprise to everyone, including myself, that I make time for Benidorm. There are so many reasons why I wouldn’t watch it. There not one, but two, jokes, that revolved around a character farting and leaving a bad smell, another around urination, and another about that well-worn trope of kissing your mate’s grandma.

Yet somehow, I find something to laugh at. This week’s biggest laugh revolved around a character resorting to wearing a multi-coloured kaftan. Base, I know, but the sheer daftness of the entire show allows your guard to drop. Nobody tunes in expecting something deep anyway.

This series seems to have learnt from its previous dip in form. Last series saw many established characters missing – Madge Garvey and Liam the most missed – whilst those that were still around looked lost. The only saving grace was Johnny Vegas and Elsie Kelly reprising their mother and son double act of The Oracle and Noreen. No signs of them this series so far, but I’m hopeful.

Even if they are missing, there is enough to compensate. The Dawson’s, new and slightly underused additions last series, are being bolstered by the arrival of Loretta, the aforementioned lascivious nan. I’m expecting plenty of scenery chewing from her. Also, Liam is back, giving Kenneth, one the strongest characters, his sparring partner. Their odd couple dynamic – Kenneth all flamboyant and crude homosexuality with minimal morality but a fantastically sharp tongue, Liam slightly camp but straight with a rigid moral compass and work ethic but without the intellect to match – fizzes.

I’m still not sold on Joey, however. The dumb youngster character is overused in shows like this. Perhaps it’s just me and my paranoia that we are living in a society that celebrates stupidity, but I cannot find him funny at all. I would much prefer Tiger to be paired off with Robbie and allow those two characters to really develop, rather than have an odd friendship triangle.

As I said before, don’t watch this expecting clever, erudite humour. It knows its audience and plays to it. Something must be working anyway, it’s on its ninth series. Not many other comedies get to say that.