Dreadful Nonsense

In a stupid attempt to try and push myself on to write some actual content for this site, and also for something to do to fill the space before my inevitable death [Having just been told that I can’t have the Christmas holidays off work that I wanted, I am now resigned to the fact that I won’t have time to take the ferry, and will therefore have to fly home. Thus, dying is well up front in my mind. (If you haven’t met my phobias before - welcome!)], I was going to try and review something every day. I made that decision on Monday. It's not gone very well so far. But, onwards and upwards.

Today -
Series 3 of The League of Gentlemen (so far)

I have to first come clean and admit that, although I did enjoy the first two series, I haven't seen TLoG live since 1997, have never bought any of their merchandise, don't have either of the first two series on video, and may even struggle to identify some of their more obscure quotes or characters. I have never camped outside Reece Shearsmith's house, and despite being in the same building as all four Gentlemen at the same time, I didn't faint. What I'm trying to say here, people, is that I'm not one of *those* fans. One of those fans, I might hesitantly suggest, that were (let's say) affectionately mocked in last night's show.

The first series of TLoG came off the back of their Radio 4 series, which in turn came off the back of their Perrier win in 1997. Their aim with the television series, they have since revealed, was to have a low audience but high impact television show - one that would be vaguely recollected in years to come. A small cult following perhaps, which would allow them to play the Soho Theatre in the more quiet years of their career. What they didn't bargain on was the mass hysteria that eventually surrounded them and their every move.

As the first series was bizarrely picked up by every office wag that likes to repeat catchphrases ad nauseum, the second series was rushed into production, and the writers didn't have any way as much time to develop characters and situations as with the first, far more superior, series. This resulted in nonsenses like the "You're my wife now" rubbish being allowed to play a large part in the show. It meant that the more subtle characteristics and twists in plots were not allowed to develop in the rush to add more gore and 'darkness' into their self-styled comedy of the macabre. I felt that this affected the quality of the second series to a large extent.

So when the third series rolled along, I have to confess that I didn't exactly have high hopes. They promised old characters wouldn't be returning, but in the adverts, there they stood in all their glory - Edward and Tubbs returned from the dead. Therefore, the sight of them being killed off once and for all ("lines and lines and lines!") within the first two minutes of the show - before the opening credits had even rolled - filled me with great anticipation about what would lie ahead.

And they haven't disappointed. The first episode, centred around the worst love triangle seen on television was horribly enjoyable. The sight of poor Micky being seduced by a desperate Pauline was one thing, but to see Pauline stretched over the table while Ross... really, I still can't speak about it. It's on a par with Currie and Major. I haven't been able to sleep since.

In last week's main story, they made the bizarre decision to allow the talent of their prosthetics department to take the primary role, while story line relaxed in the background, but with something as stupid as reattached-arm-takes-life-of-it's-own, it's difficult to see what more they thought they could bring to a haggard old cliche. Please don't start emailing me in with your hate and judgement - I do realise that, more than once through the show, there may well have been a film reference that I didn't get, but I would suggest that at least four fifths of the audience didn't understand it. Unlike Spaced, this show tends to live or die on how accessible it's references are, and this time round they seemed more than usually obscure. And also - why in the world would a nun have painted fingernails?

I'm not sure if it's because I've haven't been concentrating up until now, but last night's episode (episode 3, in which Mike goes to London to become a stand up comedian) seemed to be almost bursting with back references. I was particularly pleased with the references to the old orange juice advert, and the "don't tell the one about the mau mau". This time round, I think the Gentlemen have got a better idea on which characters can hold down a storyline in their own right, and which ones should only be used in one-off appearances. The story ran on at a great pace, the twists in the tale - although not entirely unexpected - kept everyone's interest, and the arrival of Legz Akimbo with 'Vegetable Soup' was absolutely brilliant. The fag hag character will be screamed in my sister's face until she begs for mercy. I would only question the need for the car bomber's nationality to be Irish, but other than that I thought the whole show was great. We didn't see any more reveal of what is to come next week, as the final post-crash scene merely wrapped up the main plot of this episode, but judging by this, I think they've hit their pace spectacularly well, and have high hopes for the rest of the series - particularly Barbara's impending parenthood...

This entry was posted on 11 October 2002 at 11:25 am. 0 comments

Dreadful Nonsense

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