| Product: |
Office, The |
| Date: |
04.09.04 (14284 review reads) |
| Rating: |
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Advantages: Love it...
Disadvantages: ...or hate it
The last ten years saw the rise of two love-'em-or-hate-'em formats: fly-on-the-wall (Airline, Club Reps, The Osbournes to name but a few) and the new generation spoof treatment of staid TV formats (The Day Today and Knowing Me, Knowing You with Alan Partridge). It was inevitable that somebody would at some stage try to combine these genres. The Office was a low budget and unambitious attempt at pulling off a spoof fly-on-the-wall series, although this was not the first time such a feat had been attempted - BBC2's series People Like Us had gained a cult following but failed to make it into the mainstream.
Ricky Gervais, the writer and star of The Office, was first seen on Channel 4's 11 O'Clock Show (the show that also launched Ali G) with brief comedy spots that failed to set the nation on fire but got his brand of humour noticed by the executives. He was then given an offbeat chat show on Channel 4, which had limited appeal and failed to pull in the viewers. The Office, which Gervais co-wrote with Stephen Merchant, slipped onto our screens without much ado on a weekday evening in 2001. Aptly, its initial popularity stemmed from people chatting at work the next day. "Did you see that 'office' thing on BBC2 last night?".
At first glance The Office seems insignificant and weak, and its comedy value appears thin, but after watching two or more episodes its hidden depths start to emerge. The show is set in a Slough paper merchants. A grey and drab opening sequence sets the scene of a stupefyingly boring location which typifies the British workplace. Littered around the offices of Wernham Hogg are extras and bit-part actors who do a fantastic job in their portrayal of the clerical workers; their bored and dejected expressions sometimes verge on suicidal. The rhythmic humming of photocopiers and fingers tapping at keyboards are the only noises to break the silence. It's a place where the characters around you are the only thing that can make or break your day. And in this particular case, they normally break it.
The Office's piéce de résistance is a man named David Brent (Ricky Gervais) - the boss. He has elements of everything that we all hate in the stereotypical 'manager'. Brent is selfish, insensitive, slimy, and manages to combine an inflated sense of self-importance with a lurking insecurity. Moreover, David Brent is lives under a constant delusion that he is a master comedian, yet none of his staff seem to be remotely amused by his jokes. His humour is naff, highly insensitive and badly judged ' hence we find ourselves laughing at the humour in an ironic way. Anyone who has seen Gervais' other comedy work will observe that Brent's character contains more than a whiff of Gervais himself, with overtly offensive jibes about "Jeremy Beadle's withered hand", "Ethiopians with flies on their faces" and "Ian Botham walking to John O'Groats for some spastics". If Jim Davidson had said half of those things he would surely have been banned from television for the rest of his life.
But the character of Brent is multilayered and embodies as much tragedy as it does comedy. We see Brent laid bare for the lonely and pathetic man he really is: desperate to be liked. He seeks constant reassurance from his employees that he is funny, sensitive, intellectual and above all, a great boss. Yet Brent's quest to be wanted seems entirely fruitless; his staff harbour a quiet loathing towards him. Sometimes you wonder if an average bunch of office workers really would stare in stunned silence at this man's fatuous comedy turns, if only for the fact that he deserves a laugh of sympathy. But it remains crucial to the show that not one 'Office' employee finds Brent funny - and so they stare in muted disbelief, while the viewer at home cringes with embarrassment.
Brent's right-hand man is Gareth Keenan, a petty and infuriating team leader, played by the scary looking Mackenzie Crook. Like Brent, Gareth is another caricature made up of many elements of dysfunctional people that are commonplace in everyday life. He is obsessed with the small world of company politics amid his hunger to brown-nose his way up the corporate ladder. Gareth's many quirks include his over-zealous adherence to rules and regulations, and his constant pursuit of women which makes for disastrous results when combined with his condescending views about the opposite sex. "If you expect me to go in there afterwards", he says to one female employee (whilst pointing at her vagina), "make sure he uses protection, because I don't do sloppy seconds".
Tim Canterbury, played by Martin Freeman, is the voice of reason. He plays the role of the typical viewer when implanted into such a situation - his facial expressions and dry sarcasm provide a running commentary on the madness that surrounds him. He is bemused by the enigma that is David Brent, is constantly aggravated by Gareth, whilst providing us with the male half of a simmering office romance with Dawn (Lucy Davies), the office secretary. Like Tim, Dawn hates her job and sees nothing but futility in the whole company. The interaction between all the characters is a joy to watch. Nobody really likes anybody else, but they struggle to get along. The casting of the show's lesser characters has been carried out with great precision, from Keith, the overweight and obnoxious accounts clerk, to Chris Finch, the offensive chauvinistic sales rep. The lads in the warehouse also portray a microcosm of male-dominated British workplaces, with their trading of porn videos and sexist banter.
The production is carefully contrived to emulate a typical fly-on-the-wall show. At times it is easy to forget that this is a work of fiction, as the camera work is often shaky and the scripting seems unplanned (which, of course, much of it is). The "reality footage" of the "camera crew" is interspersed with interview-style set pieces featuring the four main characters, all broadly tying in with the thrust of each episode. We see countless clips of Brent's banal philosophising whilst nervously adjusting his tie and stroking his revolting goatee beard. During another point in the first series there is a delightful crossover moment as Tim suddenly breaks free from one of his interview pieces and walks out of the room to ask Dawn for a date. We can only assume that this is what he asks her, though, as Tim has turned off his "Big Brother" style microphone and can only be seen talking to Dawn in silence. For the real anoraks like myself, this is a glaring mistake in the show as the characters never wore clip-on microphones in the first place.
A story line of impending redundancies roughly carves its way through the first series although some episodes can be seen as standalones which make little reference to the ongoing story (these are the episodes picked out for in-flight entertainment on Britannia and Airtours!). David Brent fails to take on board the reality that some of his staff are to be laid off, and continues to dig an ever-deepening hole for himself by assuring them that their jobs are safe despite knowing otherwise. Matters come to a head in the final episode of series one when Brent is forced to break the bad news but does so in the most thoughtless of ways by attempting to soften the bombshell with the announcement that he has been promoted.
Series two builds itself around Brent's jealousy towards his new boss Neil (played by Patrick Baladi), a man who is handsome, has good leadership skills and is universally admired by all the staff. Brent feels shattered and undermined by Neil's arrival and goes into denial at the fact that Neil is everything Brent has always aspired to be. Here we see the now famous 'Brent dance' scene which was probably the most broadcast clip of 2003. To fully appreciate the scene you must first see the moments leading up to it, in which Neil impresses his staff with a carefully rehearsed dance from Saturday Night Fever to raise money for Comic Relief. Neil has gone to great effort to perfect his routine, and has even hired a Bee Gees outfit, but we see Brent seething with hatred as he watches Neil stealing the limelight, before attempting to upstage him with his impromptu "ner-ner-ner-ner-ner-ner" routine. Towards the end of the series Brent ties himself into knots over Neil's popularity until the point where he loses focus on his work and is eventually given the push by the company. This makes for a genuinely moving piece of fabulous acting by Ricky Gervais as his voice breaks whilst begging Neil for his job back.
Series two also explores Brent's obsession with political correctness, and we observe him trying too hard to convince people that he is not prejudiced towards race, gender or disability. Consequently Brent manages to upset just about everyone in his bungled attempts to be a modern boss. It is quite apparent, however, that behind the mask Brent is indeed the worst kind of racist, homophobe and sexist who has hijacked modern-day political correctness in the workplace as a platform to further himself with. Perhaps the most telling moment of this comes as Brent refers to a racist word used in an old film, but attempts to justify it with the line "that was in the 1940's before racism was bad."
Both series have a long running subplot in the "will they won't they" relationship between Tim and Dawn, which knits the episodes together with a little hint of soap opera. This is finally resolved in the two Christmas specials shown in 2003. For anyone who has not yet seen these final shows, I will not divulge the ending as the beauty lies in the surprise. The Christmas specials also show us what happened to David Brent since his departure from Wernham Hogg, and follow his attempts at finding a girlfriend. Again, there is a definitive 'ending' here which is warm hearted and poignant. The format of The Office was tweaked slightly for the 2003 Christmas specials, as for the first time ever the spoof "BBC production team" could be heard posing questions to the main characters during their pieces to camera, giving the show more of an investigational feel.
After 14 episodes it now seems almost certain that Gervais will not write any more material for the Office. Naturally he feels that the only direction for the show's popularity is down, and it's a safe bet to follow the Fawlty Towers formula and quit on a high.
So what turned this lowbrow comedy into a soar away success that won two Golden Globe awards? The concept is fairly original but without Gervais the show would be nothing. His awkward, cringe worthy behaviour and funny little mannerisms are central to everything that takes place. Many people are turned off by The Office - they complain of waiting all episode for a joke to come along. Well, The Office is really a different breed to everything that has gone before. There are no real punch lines to be found, just biting observations of real human characteristics. I suspect that in order to enjoy the show you need to have worked with a 'David Brent' at some previous point in your life.
Series 1 and 2 are available on BBC DVD, and a boxed set including the two Christmas specials has been released on DVD in time for this Christmas.
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