he’s banal and facile
Saturday, January 27th, 2007Some of you who drool over Steve Carrell are probably aware The Office originated on the other side of the pond. But for those of you who aren’t, you should know that its creator, Ricky Gervais, is the most talented funnyman alive. He’s so good that I can’t watch NBC’s Office. The BBC version was so subtle and biting — regardless of the Americanized show’s quality, I’d be disappointed.
Taking a lesson from George Costanza, Gervais ended his Office after just two seasons (12 epidodes) and a 90-minute special. “That’s it for me,” he said, walking out the door.
After leaving on a high note, Gervais was free to work on whatever the hell he felt like, and eventually he got around to another comedy for the BBC, Extras. He plays a full-time extra with aspirations to actually have a line or two with the stars of the movies he’s appearing in. His character, Andy Millman, is also working on a sitcom script (a la Seinfeld again?), which finds its way to the BBC after he gives a copy to Patrick Stewart. (Stewart, too, is working on a script – for an action movie in which he uses his mind mostly to make ladies’ clothes fall off. Hilarious!)
Gervais’ fantasticness shows in the celebrities he brings to Extras for cameos — Stewart, Kate Winslet, Ian McKellan, Robert DeNiro, Orlando Bloom, Samuel L. Motherfucking Jackson. Everyone wants to work with him, and he uses them to create awkward, uproarious caricatures. Stewart is obsessed with nudity; Winslet with sex; Bloom with himself. But perhaps the best of these cameos came during the episode I watched Sunday: David Bowie.
In the episode, Andy has recorded the pilot episode of his workplace drama but has sold out to do so. The BBC producers have forced the comedy to be lowbrow, and he has to wear a funny wig and glasses. And he has a catchphrase. It’s horrible, and he’s not happy about it. When a creepy fan recognizes Andy at a pub, he and his posse move to a celebrity bar — and run into Bowie in the VIP section. What happens next should win awards.
That’s the genius of Ricky Gervais in three minutes. The scene is not incredibly farfetched. The song is catchy. It’s ridiculously funny. Barry from EastEnders does the patented American Idol move of covering one ear while belting it out. And, at the end, while you’re still laughing so hard you’re crying, you start to realize that you feel bad for Gervais’ Andy Millman. It’s brilliant.
The problem, though, is that I am too affected. I watch too much TV, and I get sucked in. When Millman is hurt by an entire bar, led by David Bowie, singing a song about his hapless career, I pout. When Jack Bauer kills someone on 24, I whoop. (When it’s Curtis Manning, though, I sob.) When J.D. and Turk sing Guy Love on the Scrubs musical episode, I laugh so hard I have to rewind to hear all the lyrics I missed the first time. When Claire Fisher drives off to New York at the end of Six Feet Under — a montage that rates as probably the strongest five minutes of television this decade — I completely lose it and can’t get off the couch for an hour.
Maybe I should go outside more. Does anyone want to play putt-putt?