Quote:
Originally posted by Freddy@Sep 9 2005, 12:53 AM
I have stopped at the end of the eighties mainly because the likes of Minder and Fools and Horses continued into that decade and after that nothing I can remember of significance.<div align="right">Quoted post</div>
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Au contraire, I'd argue that the past fifteen years wipes the floor with the 1980s when it comes to almost every type of comedy. Sitcom in particular was fading fast by the late 1980s, but the following years saw the debuts of (I'm listing everything in alphabetical order to eliminate bias)
Absolutely Fabulous, Black Books, dinnerladies, Father Ted, I'm Alan Partridge, Marion and Geoff, Men Behaving Badly, The Office, One Foot in the Grave, Phoenix Nights, Rab C Nesbitt, The Royle Family, Spaced and
The Vicar of Dibley. All those were hugely successful as well as critically acclaimed - so I'll throw in a few lesser-known personal faves too:
Green Wing, Human Remains, Roger Roger, Trevor's World of Sport and the jaw-droppingly black
Nighty Night.
Sketch comedy got several shots in the arm with
Big Train, A Bit of Fry and Laurie, The Fast Show, Goodness Gracious Me, The League of Gentlemen, Little Britain,
Smack the Pony and assorted Alexei Sayle-fronted series, while Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer were largely responsible for shifting the overall tone away from the politicised agitprop of the 1980s towards a return to Pythonesque "surrealism" (by which I mean plain silliness: I doubt Luis Buñuel would have recognised their stuff!). Spoof chat shows also proliferated, notably
Knowing Me Knowing You With Alan Partridge (fake host, fake guests),
The Mrs Merton Show and
The Keith Barret Show (fake hosts, real guests) - and comedy increasingly dominated real chat shows, notably those fronted by Graham Norton and Jonathan Ross.
There was also an upswing in satire in general and political satire in particular - the highest-profile example being
Have I Got News For You, a topical news quiz recorded 24 hours before transmission, both to keep things topical and to give BBC lawyers a chance to vet it for libel. It was first shown in 1990 and is still running fifteen years later, having survived the sacking of chairman Angus Deayton. Appearances on the show can be high-risk -
Daily Mirror editor Piers Morgan and the late Paula Yates would readily agree with this - but it can also boost a flagging career or kick-start a relatively new one: the colourful Tory MP Boris Johnson owes it a huge amount.
But
HIGNFY seemed almost cosy besides
Brass Eye, a satirical series in the true sense of the term, taking no prisoners and leaving nothing unscathed. Produced and fronted by Chris Morris, it was perhaps most notorious for its use of real celebrity talking heads who he'd somehow persuaded to utter the most abject drivel on camera (and even in the House of Commons in one memorable instance, as David Amess MP asked a Home Office minister about a nonexistent drug called "cake"). Originally aired in six episodes in 1997, the most famous edition is probably the one-off 2001 revival, which mercilessly skewered the media's laughably inconsistent and ill-informed obsession with paedophilia.
But probably the single most influential television comedy programme of the 1990s - even though its initial ratings were relatively poor - was
The Day Today, a mercilessly accurate parody of the pomposity of contemporary news programmes - so much so that it's barely dated even a decade on. It spawned a new generation of comedians, typically a decade younger than the alternative comedy crowd, leading lights including Steve Coogan, Chris Morris and Armando Iannucci (who was active more as a writer-producer than a performer, but has a strong claim to being considered the most important figure in contemporary British comedy).
Big-screen comedy has generally been less noteworthy. Hardly any of the people responsible for the series mentioned above have made a successful transition - many haven't even tried, while of those that have, only Steve Coogan's virtuoso turn in
24 Hour Party People and the surprisingly effective zombie spoof
Shaun of the Dead really stood comparison with their TV work. Most big-screen comedy has been far less inventive and innovative - while perfectly pleasant entertainment,
The Full Monty didn't really deserve to be the UK's all-time box-office grosser (for a time), and the immense promise of
Trainspotting (not really a comedy but with rather more laughs than many that were) was generally unfulfilled - though Peter Mullan's
Orphans is an underrated gem. I also can't think of a single post-1990 comedy that comes anywhere close to the verbal glory that was Bruce Robinson's
Withnail & I, for my money a strong contender for the title of funniest British film ever made (the other great 1980s comic masterpiece,
Gregory's Girl, saw a very muted sequel in 1999).
The mere fact that Richard Curtis is the largely undisputed big-screen comedy king of the last decade or so pretty much says it all -
Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill, Love Actually have largely defined non-UK notions of "British comedy", in much the same way that Benny Hill's influence was similarly baleful in the past (and Barbara Cartland is the sole representative of English literature in a great many countries). I don't dislike Curtis' films as such - they obviously know their market and exploit it ruthlessly, and God knows the British film industry could do with more people with that degree of commercial savvy - but if you compare them with almost any one of the television programmes mentioned above you'll see what the problem is: they present a tourists'-eye view of a cosily parochial never-never land, and they don't really reflect what's happening in British comedy at all.