"The letterbox is at the bottom of his door which is where some people have them - I DON'T KNOW WHY" - Alan Partridge
The second season of This Time with Alan Partridge (BBC1/iPlayer) was, in many ways, much like the first one. The premise was the same, the humour was the same - a mix of hit and miss but more hit than miss, and the storylines, as ever, were merely vehicles for the monstrous and yet ever fascinating Partridge (Steve Coogan of course) character to riff over.
Partridge is once again presenting lightweight teatime television show This Time with his co-host Jennie Gresham (Susannah Fielding) and, once again, he's jealous of her being paid more than him, being more popular than him, and, in his perception, hogging the limelight from him. Not least when her partner Sam Chatwin (Simon Farnaby) proposes to her live on air.
Partridge is, of course, a mess of anxieties, prejudices, insecurities, and biases but, crucially, he knows that to operate in the modern world he needs to at least to try to cover these up. Which, far more than his loud ties and colourful socks, gives the show much of its humour. A brief Jimmy Savile impersonation is immediately regretted yet a joke about Kirstie Allsopp's bridesmaids probably being called Fizz, Bubbly, Bolly, and Champers just about passes muster.
It's this straddling of the modern world and the old, phallocentric, one that Coogan does so well when, as he so often is, he's being Partridge. His comparisons are crude ("the equivalent of driving from London to Aberdeen with a permanent erection", describing a cocktail as "fizzy soup"), insulting (he tells the chief monk of a monastery that they only bang tambourines to confuse people into believing in God and asks mixologist Rosie Witter (Rosie Cavaliero) if her top is from M&S and if she bought it especially to go on the show), and patronising ("nosh is cockney for meal").
But they're also tinged, or daubed, with surreal and delusional touches. An awkward interview with the manager of a prison is interrupted by a boy looking through a spy hole in the door ("it's a boy's eye" - shrieks a distressed Partridge) and Alan boasts of staying up all night watching a complete box set of Judge John Deed. His reference points are scattered and hilarious. Clare Balding, Lewis Hamilton, Jenga, It's a Knockout, Pan's People, Michael Gove, Grant Shapps, and Ann Widdecombe. You just know the inner Alan is bursting to say more about them and that it might not always be an opinion that fits with the zeitgeist.
His awkwardness is key and comes through even in the strange way he says the word "bike" when predicting soon that we'll be able to swap said item for an hour of silence and his interview with a man who claims to have met Princess Diana and that she had used the terms "cheers, pet" and "aye" during their brief conversation in a northern leisure centre.
In series two, Partridge gets to visit a monastery as well as a borstal, pretend to be a murderer called Nero Costa, read a poem about the history of the BBC from the roof of Broadcasting House, dance to a steel band, hang out with the SAS in Herefordshire, go undercover on a chemsex expose, and, in a piece that was supposed to be celebrating the unsung achievements of female pilots in the war, fly a Spitfire over Beachy Head and Seven Sisters.
When the 'action' (if you can call it that) veers too close to slapstick or physical comedy (at one point, Alan has gone deaf after getting water in his ears diving into a pool) it falls flat and the passive aggressive exchanges with Ruth Duggan (Lolly Adefope) get quite tired as the series moves on but his exchanges with feature presenter Simon Denton (Tim Key), and his long suffering aide Lynn (Felicity Montagu) bring occasional comedy gold and the flirting with the make up lady Tiff (Nastasia Demetriou) allows Partridge, or here - you suspect - Coogan, to show there's life in the ol' dog yet.
The guest stars work pretty well on the whole. There's John Thomson as former drunken ventriloquist, now cleaned up, Joe Beasley, Tanya Moodie as therapist Izzy Barnes, and Nick Mohammed as Jennie's apologetic online troll Bhavit Sharma whose father, Partridge discovers, owns a car showroom and strikes a deal with.
There's also former Dr Who Matt Smith as Guardian journalist Dan Milner who takes offence at the show's blandness and its premise/promise to deliver everything "from zebras to Zionism" and with "chit-chats about Kit Kats, chinwags about binbags, and natters about matters". Lynn's getting a new hip (PVC, not titanium - although that's good enough for her according to Alan), the theme tune has been remixed to Partridge's chagrin, and Alan fulfils a life long dream of meeting HRH Princess Anne with predictably obsequious, and catastrophic, results.
But that's all there really is terms of a plot and that's fine. Alan Partridge is, and always has been, a character study in one man's vanity, vulnerability, and into his delusions and his sense of somehow not quite fitting in with this, or indeed any, world. Coogan plays him to perfection and though this vehicle is far from the sleekest Partridge has ever driven, the character is now so foolproof, and yet so multi-faceted, he cannot really fail. As long as Partridge messes up, Coogan succeeds. But it would be good to see Partridge out of his comfort zone, properly, next time round.
No comments:
Post a Comment