Archives for posts with tag: sitcom

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.

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.

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.

Earlier this year, I did a blog post about Scottish sitcom Two Doors Down. To be honest, there seemed so little fanfare about it that I honestly thought it wouldn’t be seen again. I have yet to find a single fellow viewer. And yet, we have a second series. Equally under promoted it feels but, nevertheless, it’s on.

Personally I’m delighted. It is beautifully low-key and pitched just right. You buy into the setting instantly. A perfectly normal couple with a grown-up gay son who has flown the nest contend with two nightmare neighbours but are too polite to do anything about. The fact said neighbours hate each other and contrast each other only adds to the constantly quietly brewing tension. Cathy and Colin, the snobbish nouveau-riche, are squared off against the slovenly and coarse Christine, with none of them even in the slightest bit aware of how they all put upon Beth and Eric.

One of my favourite episodes this series has been the car alarm one. A perfectly logical opening, an absent neighbour’s car alarm goes off and wakes everyone up, steadily builds as everyone invites themselves round to Beth and Eric’s for a cup of tea, which then becomes breakfast. Along the way we have Christine offering her pearls of wisdom, my favourite being why you should never live in a bungalow – “too many spiders” apparently.

It doesn’t matter that some episodes dribble into nothing, because it is more about what gets you too the end point as opposed to what it is. Not that it doesn’t sometimes build into a nice closing gag – firecrackers were part of the climax of the first episode of this series, and the writers cleverly threw some red herrings along the way, including a giant leg of Spanish ham.

There are those that argue that the show is so uneventful it disappears. That actually doesn’t bother me. If anything, I get bugged my comedies that spend their time pushing the set up to the final gag, becoming too OTT in the process. I actually feel I could encounter the characters in Two Doors Down, as well as the scenarios, which makes it all the more enjoyable.

There seems to be a fashion for cruel comedy right now, where the central character is unlovable and the aim is to pile as much humiliation as possible onto them. This show doesn’t do that – it is simply about the perils of being too nice. And if it remains a secret to so many, that’s fine.

A while ago, I wrote about some of the key differences between American and British comedies. The former was always gentler, nice people doing good things but plans going awry. Britain, meanwhile, relied on comedy monsters and anti-heroes, selfish people performing cruel actions. A British version of The Big Bang Theory would make Sheldon a lot crueler, his quirks becoming massive defects.

There are, of course, situation where this is reversed. Gavin & Stacey was either very heart-warming or quite twee, depending on how you view that kind of humour. Likewise, Americans can do dark and selfish as well if they want to, it’s just rarely seen on the big networks. Louis and Maron are good examples of this.

One that I am watching now that falls into this category is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. For the uninitiated, it focuses on three male friend who own an Irish bar and one of the guy’s sister working for them. Danny DeVito later appears as the brother and sister’s dad in a piece of casting that is both odd and excellent at the same time. The humour is certainly dark – the first season alone has plotlines on abortion, racism and child molesting, while the second opens with most of the cast pretending to be crippled. Family fare this is not.

It has to be said that all of the characters are hard to like. Dennis is cold and unemotional to the extreme, Charlie incompetent and temperamental and Mac is just an all-round asshole. Even Sweet Dee isn’t above being selfish and cruel, although she is more of a moral compass than the men. Between the subject matter and the characters, it has the potential of being an uncomfortable watch.

What saves it is how sharply funny it is. The molesting episode had a beautifully awkward scene where Charlie was surrounded by his family asking him where his apparent abuser had touched him, with a very creepy uncle getting a little too into it. I laughed hard and immediately felt bad about it, before laughing again.

As I’m only just starting the second season on Netflix, I can’t speak for the consistency of the show. I get the feeling that the plots are going have to get bigger in order to keep the level of crazy pitched right, although I’m not sure how many taboos it has left. Who knows? I may work through another couple of seasons and find a different tone to the whole thing. I hope it doesn’t go too safe though. A bit of darkness is a lot of fun when handled right.

As I mentioned in my previous post, there seems to be a bumper crop of comedies around at the moment. Amongst them is a long-standing favourite of mine, the glorious Friday Night Dinner. The set-up is surprisingly basic – a Jewish family get together every Friday night for dinner. The two adult sons are both old enough to live alone but also still have mum’s apron strings well attached. Dad is eccentric, although whether these have been always present or just developing through old age we are never sure. Nothing particularly extreme here.

But that is actually help, as such a basic premise allows the writer to hinge everything on a plot. No need to run ongoing narratives. Just a comfortable pattern of an opening situation slowly bubbling up into outright farce. There isn’t even a need for everything to be resolved, as we take it as given that the family will be back together next week, making another attempt to have a normal night.

Take the first episode of the new series, which was nearly perfect. Dad has invited a university friend over for dinner, only to discover he invited someone with a similar name who he hates. This man also happens to have irritating quirks, including blinking too slowly. The focus is on getting him out, which leads to the ridiculous lie of a grandma dying. As the episode progresses, more characters get sucked into the lie, including a barmy next door neighbour, until the grandma in question suddenly appears, causing the whole façade to come crashing down. The episode ends with the dad trying to insert a pineapple up his friend’s arse, for reasons you need to watch to fully understand.

What this show does well is balancing the need to for sight gags with ensuring the plot for the episode keeps momentum. Everything has its purpose, even a throwaway reference to a broken watch.

It also, for the most part, is brilliantly warm. Whilst the family may wind each other up, no one actually seeks to hurt anyone else, beyond some low-level humiliation. In fact, the only time there is a crack in the show is when other bystanders get roped in to situation. We accept Jim the neighbour, Grandma and Val could get caught up in things, but not anybody outside the circle. That is the only time uncomfortably funny becomes almost unbearable painful.

Nevertheless, it is still a pocket of joy. The fact that it is so unrewarded is a small outrage. Maybe its lack of a dark heart or the fact the humiliations are comparatively minor mean that the critics pass over it. Then again, a lot of programmes don’t get their due. Instead, their fans get to enjoy them, safe in the knowledge that, although it never shocks, it always entertains.