Why is it that the British get tv shows and indies right where Americans consistently fail? Is it because the culture of oversized and overdumbeddown can’t do subtlety right? Bet that’s at least some of it. Because time after time I watch really enjoyable, quietly appealing treasures made by BBC and co. with regular people doing regular (or sometimes irregular) things and it nearly always works in an infinitely superior manner to its American very distant cousins.
Take one of my favorites, The Detectorists, as quiet as a show gets, about two male friends who bond over treasure detecting in English countryside. Odd looking couple of Toby Jones and Mackenzie Crook, mismatched in age as much as appearance, but matched by their mismatch much as by their odd passion. They got three (albeit BBC length…meaning short) seasons out of it, all strangely compelling, quietly charming and somehow (despite having never detectored a single thing) relatable. Now there’s Truth Seekers, from the geeked out mind of Simon Pegg and his well rounded bestie. The well rounded bestie being the star of the show here, the plot revolves around a cable network installer obsessed with paranormal, whose latest partner inadvertently makes his life way more exciting and ghostladen than he ever might have hoped for. Again, not the sort of show Americans might go for, no lookers in the cast, no flash, no pizazz/cheap thrills, no laugh tracks, it isn’t even geared for laughtracks, the jokes here are way too subtle for that, mostly (minus maybe the urine drinking). But it works so well. The subtlety adds a strangely realistic dimension to otherwise very much out there proceedings. Plus as the show progresses, the grander conspiracy is unveiled and it’s pretty awesome. Short and sweet, it leaves you wanting more, just as it ought to, and theorizing on the goings on, much as it should. I’ve a theory, two actually…do you? And to continue with supernatural and British, check out Extra Ordinary…the title that ought to be one word, a story different enough to command its own grammar. A retired paranormal investigator turned driving instructor is reluctantly dragged back into ghost busting when a handsome, if bedraggled, single dad begs her to help him deal with the belligerent ghost of his long dead wife. Barry Ward is doing most of the comedic heavy lifting here with striking aplomb, from gross gags to mimicry, all so good. And there’s Will Forte to take care of the rest in a hilariously disturbing toupee covered turn as a has been pop star who sells his soul to the devil. The entire thing is funny because its realistically awkward and low key, although it features surprisingly good special effects for the presumably restrained budget. Or take the perfectly natural Sometimes, Always, Never…a quiet exploration of grief, a son and brother disappeared and a son and father left behind. Bill Nighy in all his sartorial splendor (the man actually plays a tailor here) and Sam Riley are the ones left in the aftermath and this is a story of them dealing with a closure free situation of having a loved one walk away and never return. Great quiet drama, much like quality tailoring…understated, minimal, great use of color. So there you go, my incomplete ode to subtlety of BBC, long may it live and prosper, and all the things they do right. The best they can do across the pond in that respect are mostly mumbling along, propagated by my beloved Duplass brothers. It isn’t the same and at times not even close, but it is a welcome alternative to the loud unoriginal dumb brashness or quaintness of the typical American cinema. Still waiting for someone to make that great again. But then again…maybe it’s best to leave it well enough alone.
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