What happened to Ricky Gervais?
His latest major television project, After Life, feels like the culmination of this divisive, oft-controversial comedian and what he has been attempting to give audiences for almost 20 years, since The Office made him a household British and American name. Gervais, as grief-stricken widower Tony, has lost touch with the purpose of life to such a degree he no longer cares about offending anyone; and is resolved to say what he wants, when he wants, to whom he wants.“It’s like a superpower…” he boasts with the freedom of someone with nothing to lose.
Yet what on the face of it is billed as a dark, mordant comedy with a bad boy streak, with the wilfully offensive Gervais having the vehicle to create a comic monster filled with bitterness – David Brent spliced with One Foot in the Grave’s Victor Meldrew – never actually comes to bear. After Life is underpinned with a powerful sense of at times mawkish sentimentality to the point you wonder whether you *should* be laughing at the clear, telegraphed comedy built around Tony’s refusal to edit himself? It almost feels too personal to laugh at, given Gervais wants us to simultaneously wince and care about this broken, sad and nihilistic man.
What it left me wondering is this… is After Life really about Tony, or is it in some bizarre way about Ricky?
Mission Impossible III may not be the strongest outing in the franchise, but it may be the most human.
Surprisingly, this works as both a strength and to the film’s detriment in the eyes of many. For everyone who considers Mission Impossible II the weakest episode of the saga, which you can find my thoughts on here, not far behind will be a detractor of JJ Abrams’ sequel to John Woo’s own take on Bruce Geller’s kitsch 1960’s series. This, to me, is hard to fathom, and not simply as a big fan of Abrams and the dominance his works have achieved on pop culture, both in television and cinema.
The reason this revisionist disdain for MI:3 is strange to me is because Abrams’ movie arguably saved the franchise, and allowed Tom Cruise to not just reinvent his character Ethan Hunt but position Mission Impossible as a series which blended fantasy escapism with a relatable heart and soul.
Looking at Extras, the second comedy project from Ricky Gervais & Stephen Merchant, a decade on, you realise for all the Leveson enquiries, disgraced newspapers and changing models of television, the world of media and entertainment looks a great deal similar. Few lessons have been learned. Most structures and institutions remain the same.
Because, let’s not split hairs, Extras was and indeed remains a quite clear cautionary tale about the lure and subsequent perils of fame. Not just fame either but fame for fame’s sake, both of which are areas Gervais’ show touches upon the deeper it propels into its narrative over the course of two six part seasons and a feature-length Christmas special finale. Extras turned out to be much like The Office, its predecessor that took Gervais from a memorably offensive supporting player on late-90’s edgy Channel 4 comedy and made him a star of international, indeed Hollywood proportions. Not in style, not even in story, but in the sense of how it constructed a story arc around a concept and concluded in strong, often quite dramatic fashion. Though it lacked the iconic nature of The Office, Extras had the heart, many of the laughs, and certainly had the *point* of why it existed, right up to the very final scene.