So having binged my way through Peep Show (and loving it), it really stood out to me just how dark the comedy really is, in a way that perhaps you don't notice if you only watch an episode every week or two. Cripplingly, oppressively dark, in fact.
On the surface, most of the humour comes from how Mark and Jeremy can't seem to do anything without the other messing up their plans spectacularly. Usually this results in a cringey denouement in which one or both is publically humiliated due to a contrived and ridiculously unworkable plan of their own making. Super Hans' wacky antics usually lend an oddball levity to this otherwise rather bleak circus of failure.
Occasionally we have a moment of success. Mark getting on well with Johnson (initially, before Johnson betrays him). Mark and Jeremy occasionally sticking up for each other out of true friendship (Mark trouncing the Book Club dickhead, and Jeremy offering to dance with Mark when he's painfully alone at a party).
These moments of success usually come from Mark and Jez using their different personalities together in an additive, positive way.
But over time, a certain repetition creeps in. Slowly, you begin to realise that literally none of the significant events in their lives works out for Mark or Jez. Ever. Everything they do to improve their lives is doomed to awful failure, almost always due to their own inescapable character flaws.
But the ending of Season 9, supposedly the final season of the show, we see Mark and Jeremy back in familiar territory: Mark trying to win over the woman of his dreams and failing pathetically, and Jez suffering an identity crisis...the same kind he's been having and failing to do anything about for years.
The difference now is that in the last episode Jez is now a 40 year old slacker rather than a 20-something. He still doesn't have a career, a stable relationship, a stable friendship with Mark (or anyone else!) or even a sense of his true identity. He doesn't even know if he's gay, bi or what!
His "liberal slacker" lifestyle which is supposedly full of choice actually seems more like a depressing cover for the fact that he has zero choice, direction or confidence in his life and in reality he is just as lonely and isolated as Mark. His extroverted nature means he can cover that up superficially in social situations with more success, but in reality he lacks true friends and partners and his life is just as much of a social void.
Mark's attempt to get with April in the last series is uniquely depressing because, ironically, she may actually finally be "The One" for him. He's been calling girls "The One" since the first season, but for once this assessment actually rings true. April truly is intelligent, kind, funny and similar to him.
And yet (with Jeremy's help) Mark again f***s it up. And April leaves, presumably to never return.
The series concludes with Super Hans breaking up with his GF and planning to leave the country and Jeremy and Mark once again sat alone in their flat on their sofa. After 9 seasons, they are exactly where they started...but older and worse off.
In that last scene, Jeremy's mindless request to Mark to "pull him off" (which Mark immediately scoffs at and refuses) at first seems like a silly throwaway comment. But then Jeremy says he doesn't really know why he even said that. It's a grim shout out to Jeremy's nature: he's still a thoughtless hedonist who makes dumb decisions and doesn't consider or even know what he wants or why he does what he does. He's learned nothing.
Mark replies by asking if Jeremy would like him to read a book about Napoleon to entertain them both. Cue Jez scoffing. Again, this comment comes across not as a cutesy reference to Mark's character, but a reminder of his social ineptitude and obsessive nerdiness...it's an acknowledgement that he too is still the same...and has learned nothing over the years either.
In a way, the two men share an odd duality. Their traits may be polar opposites to the naked eye, but close observations show that their character differences actually make very little difference to how their lives turn out. To illustrate this point: Jeremy's problems are often caused by his stupidity: he comes up with moronic plans that have no chance of working.
By contrast, Mark's misfortunes are caused by his own intelligence: he compulsively overthinks everything, ironically leading to moronic plans that have no chance of working. The two are one and the same.
The last PoV shot is actually from the perspective of the wolves on TV. They howl and stare out at the lonely Mark and Jez, as if a reminder that they're slowly crawling fruitlessly towards their inevitable doom.
If Peep Show has a message, it seems to be this: People are shallow, self-obsessed neurotic creatures and the majority of us cruise through life as "worker drones", as Johnson would say. Life is often bitter and unhappy, and even your close friends are unreliable and vain.
It really is a rather bleak and morbid underbelly to a hilarious show, and I do hope that if the writers do bring back the El Dude Brothers for one final series they get a little bit of self-awareness, love and happiness in their lives, if even for a moment.
As terrible as Mark and Jez often are as human beings, I think they deserve it.
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Sunday, 1 October 2017
Saturday, 4 January 2014
Breaking Bad: Quick Thoughts So Far (Season 2)
So after a good friend pointed me to Breaking Bad a while ago, I have to say it's rapidly becoming my absolute favourite TV series since...well, since anything!
1. I'm a Chemist.
2. I like intelligent crime drama.
3. I like dark comedy.
4. I love media which depicts smartly written characters who have real motivations and personalities.
Breaking Bad satisfies all four in spades, with razor sharp writing and acting that I can only describe as absolutely spot-on.
I'm way behind, only now starting on watching right through after getting the box-set for Christmas. But the show is consistently fantastic so far.
I think the most fascinating aspect of the show thus far is easily the central shift of Walt's morality. Even more than his morality, actually: his humanity itself.
Walt starts Season 1 as a character who is almost unquestionably sympathetic. He's a decent man who, through a lack of assertiveness and simple bad fortune, has essentially been screwed out of everything he could have expected from life as a successful, honest scientist.
He's felt dead for a good chunk of his whole life. He has a stressful home life with a disabled son, a wife he struggles to express his emotions to...and biggest of all, a crushing sense that his brilliant understanding of Chemistry has got him nowhere but teaching to a bunch of uninterested, obnoxious teenagers. He's frequently too nice to offend others, and submits to pressure rather than pushing to put his desires and viewpoints across.
So when he's abruptly told he's dying of lung cancer (despite having never smoked, no less), it's understandable, even if certainly not condonable, that he begins to feel deeply sickened (and envious) when he sees the idiotic local drug pushers rolling around with more money than he's ever seen.
When he realises soon after he begins cooking that he must murder Krazy-8 to save his family from retribution, we see the despair and sadness wracking him terribly with guilt as tears flow down his cheeks.
Fast forward to Season 2, Episode 10, the episode I just finished. Walt's spent several episodes manipulating Jesse with Machiavellian grace, remorselessly lying to him and showing next to no compassion when Hank confiscated the funds he required to even have somewhere to live.
At the end of the episode, he has the following confrontation with a couple of up-and-coming meth peddlers he spots at the local DIY store. Going from the "silent partner" who very much prefers to force Jesse into getting his hands dirty, we see him suddenly assert himself as a street hardman directly:
It's like Walt has ceased to exist in this clip, with Heisenberg taking full control. Bryan Cranston is utterly convincing with his narrow eyes and ice-cold snarl - fabulous acting. The other guy may be bigger, but just look at that dangerous look in Walt's eyes, the thinly veiled disgust on his face, and you know immediately that he's not a guy you want to fuck with. At all.
After his "blowfish" discussion with Jesse, we see that Walt's toughness isn't bluster, either. He has nothing to fear from death, already possessing a death sentence.
Walt's disgusted look is doubly ironic considering that the big bald guy and his partner could almost be a mirror showing a more physically imposing Walt and a dirtier, more meth-y Jesse. A clever casting similarity I'm sure was deliberate.
I think the most heartbreaking thing is that as Walt becomes more adept at being Heisenberg, he starts losing everything that makes him Walt. In Season 1 he was a decent man making a lame effort at being a hardcore criminal. Now, he's sliding towards being a ruthlessly efficient hardcore criminal, but losing what makes him a likable, decent human being completely in the process.
Very interesting. And very funny. And very sad.
I love this show ;)
1. I'm a Chemist.
2. I like intelligent crime drama.
3. I like dark comedy.
4. I love media which depicts smartly written characters who have real motivations and personalities.
Breaking Bad satisfies all four in spades, with razor sharp writing and acting that I can only describe as absolutely spot-on.
I'm way behind, only now starting on watching right through after getting the box-set for Christmas. But the show is consistently fantastic so far.
I think the most fascinating aspect of the show thus far is easily the central shift of Walt's morality. Even more than his morality, actually: his humanity itself.
Walt starts Season 1 as a character who is almost unquestionably sympathetic. He's a decent man who, through a lack of assertiveness and simple bad fortune, has essentially been screwed out of everything he could have expected from life as a successful, honest scientist.
He's felt dead for a good chunk of his whole life. He has a stressful home life with a disabled son, a wife he struggles to express his emotions to...and biggest of all, a crushing sense that his brilliant understanding of Chemistry has got him nowhere but teaching to a bunch of uninterested, obnoxious teenagers. He's frequently too nice to offend others, and submits to pressure rather than pushing to put his desires and viewpoints across.
So when he's abruptly told he's dying of lung cancer (despite having never smoked, no less), it's understandable, even if certainly not condonable, that he begins to feel deeply sickened (and envious) when he sees the idiotic local drug pushers rolling around with more money than he's ever seen.
When he realises soon after he begins cooking that he must murder Krazy-8 to save his family from retribution, we see the despair and sadness wracking him terribly with guilt as tears flow down his cheeks.
Fast forward to Season 2, Episode 10, the episode I just finished. Walt's spent several episodes manipulating Jesse with Machiavellian grace, remorselessly lying to him and showing next to no compassion when Hank confiscated the funds he required to even have somewhere to live.
At the end of the episode, he has the following confrontation with a couple of up-and-coming meth peddlers he spots at the local DIY store. Going from the "silent partner" who very much prefers to force Jesse into getting his hands dirty, we see him suddenly assert himself as a street hardman directly:
"Stay OUT of my territory."
It's like Walt has ceased to exist in this clip, with Heisenberg taking full control. Bryan Cranston is utterly convincing with his narrow eyes and ice-cold snarl - fabulous acting. The other guy may be bigger, but just look at that dangerous look in Walt's eyes, the thinly veiled disgust on his face, and you know immediately that he's not a guy you want to fuck with. At all.
After his "blowfish" discussion with Jesse, we see that Walt's toughness isn't bluster, either. He has nothing to fear from death, already possessing a death sentence.
Walt's disgusted look is doubly ironic considering that the big bald guy and his partner could almost be a mirror showing a more physically imposing Walt and a dirtier, more meth-y Jesse. A clever casting similarity I'm sure was deliberate.
I think the most heartbreaking thing is that as Walt becomes more adept at being Heisenberg, he starts losing everything that makes him Walt. In Season 1 he was a decent man making a lame effort at being a hardcore criminal. Now, he's sliding towards being a ruthlessly efficient hardcore criminal, but losing what makes him a likable, decent human being completely in the process.
Very interesting. And very funny. And very sad.
I love this show ;)
Saturday, 19 February 2011
Movie Review: Fargo
So, yet another review ( I will really have to get back to Blood Bowl soon!) and yet another "Coen brothers" movie.
Fargo is quite similar in terms of themes to No Country For Old Men, yet also reminds me of a Shakespearian play in terms of the tragedies that seem to befall practically every character in the story.
Just like NCFOM it focuses on a merciless, senseless evil in a traditionally laid-back, moral rural setting and the impact such an invasion of darkness has on the casual observer.
Similarly, Fargo also has elements of dark comedy. I'd say it goes further than NCFOM in that regard (which is more thrillery all around) and goes into the territory of all out black comedy in places.
One point, in which a character screams incredulously "I got f**kin' SHOT! I got f**kin' shot IN THE FACE!" made me burst out laughing. It's peculiar that I can't pin down exactly why that scene is so funny, but the delivery and the context of the line (as well as the response of the other party) just showcases the edge on things perfectly. The events that unfold are so outrageously grim at points and so extreme that the instinct they grab hold of is the instinct to laugh.
The cast of this film are universally fantastic in their roles. Peter Stormare and Steve Buscemi deserve a special mention as characters Gaear Grimsrud and Carl respectively. The two are a great double act.
Carl is cowardly, anger-prone, nervous, loserish criminal and yet is more human than his partner. He can't seem to stop talking. We sense there is a shred of
humanity in him despite his unpleasant nature, particularly after the first death on screen.
Gaear Grimsrud has no such human spark. He hardly ever speaks throughout the film (much to Carl's annoyance) unless it's to make a threat or deliver a statement matter-of-factly.
He's a heavily built, intimidating man, yet also gives the impression that he is somewhat mentally slow - a brute in every sense of the word. Below this exterior there lies mystery.
His name doesn't sound American. Unlike Carl, he hardly ever begins yelling or getting angry - he simply kills people who anger him instead. He's like Anton Chigurh if he was obsessed with pancakes, less intelligent and a lot less professional.
He doesn't approach that almost metaphysical level of evil, but he has an animalistic, brutal simplicity that makes him a great villain.
Buscemi's character morphs throughout the picture. He starts off slimy, unpleasant and yet more eloquent than his partner, then slowly shifts towards losing that spark himself. In a way he seems to mingle with Gaear's personality - he loses any morals he may have had, while Gaear ends the film the more coldly rational of the two.
The plot itself is interesting. It's impossible to go into detail without spoiling it, but it concerns a car salesman named Jerry (William H. Macy) trying to prop up his financial situation by having his own wife kidnapped. Needless to say his hiring of Carl and Gaear to carry the task out is very ill-advised, and the whole plan quickly goes awry. It's hard to say who is more pathetic - Jerry or the criminals.
There are many parallels in the story between seemingly unrelated characters that show up in many different sub-plots, another nice trait of the film.
Following a trail of corpses and carnage is Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand), a pregnant cop in Brainerd, Minnesota (the setting for much of the story) who tries to fathom the situation unfolding before her. She, as Tommy Lee Jones in NCFOM, has a great line near the end of the film that provides some redemption for all that we see before.
So Fargo is a strange beast. It's a crime film, a comedy film and a strangely poignant tale all rolled into one. There is a brilliant irony to the story too that you will only get once you see it.
I'll leave you with one of Marge's quotes: "[It was all] for what? For a little bit of money. There's more to life than a little money, you know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well...I just don't understand it."
5/5.
[*][*][*][*][*]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJUvPZI3Cr4
Fargo is quite similar in terms of themes to No Country For Old Men, yet also reminds me of a Shakespearian play in terms of the tragedies that seem to befall practically every character in the story.
Just like NCFOM it focuses on a merciless, senseless evil in a traditionally laid-back, moral rural setting and the impact such an invasion of darkness has on the casual observer.
Similarly, Fargo also has elements of dark comedy. I'd say it goes further than NCFOM in that regard (which is more thrillery all around) and goes into the territory of all out black comedy in places.
One point, in which a character screams incredulously "I got f**kin' SHOT! I got f**kin' shot IN THE FACE!" made me burst out laughing. It's peculiar that I can't pin down exactly why that scene is so funny, but the delivery and the context of the line (as well as the response of the other party) just showcases the edge on things perfectly. The events that unfold are so outrageously grim at points and so extreme that the instinct they grab hold of is the instinct to laugh.
The cast of this film are universally fantastic in their roles. Peter Stormare and Steve Buscemi deserve a special mention as characters Gaear Grimsrud and Carl respectively. The two are a great double act.
Carl is cowardly, anger-prone, nervous, loserish criminal and yet is more human than his partner. He can't seem to stop talking. We sense there is a shred of
humanity in him despite his unpleasant nature, particularly after the first death on screen.
Gaear Grimsrud has no such human spark. He hardly ever speaks throughout the film (much to Carl's annoyance) unless it's to make a threat or deliver a statement matter-of-factly.
He's a heavily built, intimidating man, yet also gives the impression that he is somewhat mentally slow - a brute in every sense of the word. Below this exterior there lies mystery.
His name doesn't sound American. Unlike Carl, he hardly ever begins yelling or getting angry - he simply kills people who anger him instead. He's like Anton Chigurh if he was obsessed with pancakes, less intelligent and a lot less professional.
He doesn't approach that almost metaphysical level of evil, but he has an animalistic, brutal simplicity that makes him a great villain.
Buscemi's character morphs throughout the picture. He starts off slimy, unpleasant and yet more eloquent than his partner, then slowly shifts towards losing that spark himself. In a way he seems to mingle with Gaear's personality - he loses any morals he may have had, while Gaear ends the film the more coldly rational of the two.
The plot itself is interesting. It's impossible to go into detail without spoiling it, but it concerns a car salesman named Jerry (William H. Macy) trying to prop up his financial situation by having his own wife kidnapped. Needless to say his hiring of Carl and Gaear to carry the task out is very ill-advised, and the whole plan quickly goes awry. It's hard to say who is more pathetic - Jerry or the criminals.
There are many parallels in the story between seemingly unrelated characters that show up in many different sub-plots, another nice trait of the film.
Following a trail of corpses and carnage is Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand), a pregnant cop in Brainerd, Minnesota (the setting for much of the story) who tries to fathom the situation unfolding before her. She, as Tommy Lee Jones in NCFOM, has a great line near the end of the film that provides some redemption for all that we see before.
So Fargo is a strange beast. It's a crime film, a comedy film and a strangely poignant tale all rolled into one. There is a brilliant irony to the story too that you will only get once you see it.
I'll leave you with one of Marge's quotes: "[It was all] for what? For a little bit of money. There's more to life than a little money, you know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well...I just don't understand it."
5/5.
[*][*][*][*][*]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJUvPZI3Cr4
Sunday, 3 October 2010
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