Max & Paddy's Road to Nowhere

At its best, this six-part series is an insight into the characters first introduced to us in Phoenix Nights; at its worst, it’s a nonsensical farce. To fans of Phoenix Nights, these characters are already quite familiar, which is both a blessing and a curse. Some moments, particularly when the series delves into Max’s romantic past, flesh out the characters and add depth that was unseen in Phoenix Nights. On the other hand, a character like Paddy is so intrinsically two-dimensional that there is very little to expand upon.

The sentimentality woven throughout the relationship storyline is also a double edged sword. True, it brings variety to the series; yet, it is unapologetically sentimental, which is quite uncharacteristic of British comedy and more a part of the American comedy milieu. It doesn’t buffer the dramatic sentimentality with comedy; instead, we are witness to a teary eyed Max: no laughs or hints at anything but a truly dramatic moment. Normally that ought to be applauded, but when a bulk of the remainder of the series is farce, it only serves to further isolate the farce from reality.

If we look at other examples of “stupid” humour, such as Bottom or Blazing Saddles from the world of film, they are successful for their complete lack of anything hinting seriousness, despite tackling serious social issues as in the case of the latter. Other sitcoms, such as Waiting for God – although not trying to be a “stupid” comedy – avoid crossing the line of drama/over-sentimental with a buffer of humour.

That being said, the series is generally a mixed bag, depending on one’s taste in comedy. Some episodes, such as number five, are so contrived and short on laughs that they [writers] seem to be treading water. The final episode (in which they have a run in with a mentalist), however, is an example of how successful comedy is still primarily character driven. Inserting the right off-beat characters can transform a show from mediocre to laugh-worthy. Who doesn’t remember Matt Holness’ computer geek character, Simon, from The Office? The amount of memorable characters found in Max & Paddy’s Road to Nowhere is few and far between, which is not to say they are non-existent. Reece Shearsmith (of The League of Gentlemen fame), for example, has a funny cameo in which he gives new meaning to a Rod Stewart classic.



All in all, it’s worth a watch, but it pales in comparison to its predecessor.

Human Remains

Human Remains is a bleak series of six mockumentaries, each depicting the intimate lives of six couples of varying ages and social classes, and yet all unmitigatedly malcontent.  We, the voyeurs, become susceptible to morbid curiosity as their lives are slowly revealed layer upon layer, each one increasingly dreary.  For the camera, however, more often than not they put up a brave front, making their agony all the more pitiful.  This is particularly true of those relationships where one spouse is clearly dominate and in torturous control over the other, at times bordering emotional and/or physical abuse.  The victim will attempt to appear disaffected, but the pain and misery of their dejection nevertheless seeps through.

“Are you happy?” One husband sheepishly asks his wife, who simply replies, “No.”  Not willing to face such a jarring reality, he jovially retorts, “More than happy!”  We know the truth.

That multilayered clarity of emotion is a true testament to the acting abilities of the two stars and writers, Julia Davis and Rob Brydon.  Arguably, Davis portrays the authority of all but one of the relationships presented.  This authority is at times explicit and forceful, as in episodes one and five, at times subdued, as in the final episode, and others far more subtle, as in episodes two and four.  Only in one relationship is there a hint of the male being abusive towards the woman, perhaps because of its social implications.

Personally, that episode was the most difficult to watch and provided the fewest laughs, perhaps because the threat of spousal abuse in the real world is primarily at the hand of the male figure.  When a man is emotionally tortured by his wife, despite being cringe-worthy it was simultaneously laughable and judging by my own reactions, it is certainly culturally more acceptable to find humour among female inflicted spousal abuse than vice versa.  A defining difference of episode three, where the male is clearly abusive, is the allusion to – and indeed one incident I would classify as – physical abuse, which is clearly more serious than the simple emotional abuse presented at the hands of Davis’ characters.

Human Remains aired in 2000 on BBC.