Grid Effect

What the hell was that? I mean, it was fantastic, but it was certainly unexpected. When we tuned in we were bracing ourselves for ninety minutes of hilarious misunderstandings and Andy’s frustration, not eighty minutes of every character one way or another in some form of crisis. Good lord, even Clive Owen was a prick and he was only on screen for about two minutes.

The finale was done in superb form, bringing back several bit players and focusing on the main ones (Andy, Maggie and Darren). The stages of Andy’s career are essentially what everything revolved around, from unsatisfied and shallow to disgruntled, unappreciative and bitter to redeeming and soul-searching, and how his former agent and best friend were indirectly effected by his poor decisions and self-interest. A common tale, or so I am told. But one we can never recall being illustrated with such grace, humor and accuracy.

The Maggie storyline was particularly depressing. For a good while it wasn’t beyond the pale that she would attempt suicide and at that point we began to miss the days where she clumsily tried to pick up men. It was nothing short of devastating to see the typically happy-go-lucky character so disillusioned by her professional and social status. Ashley Jensen gave a really heart wrenching performance for the full eighty minutes that should really earn her a couple nominations at the Golden Globes and the Emmy’s.

Am I going to have to start watching Ugly Betty now?

Stephen Merchant, even in his most humiliating scenes managed to draw laughs, such as leaping over the barrier at the BBC and his run in with Andy outside of the Car Phone Warehouse. The few comedic scenes there were generally involved Merchant playing the typically clueless agent. From taking off his windbreaker, to dancing to car phone ring-tones to being completely ambivalent about Maggie’s desperation, I nearly pissed myself laughing. It’s probably a good thing he was strictly rendered for comedic effect, because with that scrawny, lanky frame and the goofy demeanor, he would be hard to take seriously.

And its yet another award winning performance from Ricky Gervais. Who, as great as Maggie was, exhibited so many emotions and mindsets in an eighty minute period that he should really consider a Bill Murray type career after this. He embodied all the above transitions and embodied them well. For someone who’s typically known as something of a goofball, we were pleasantly surprised that he could carry a scene so well as his final plea for forgiveness from Maggie.

In fact, the body of the “Big Brother” stint was probably the funniest and most dramatic act of the mini-movie. The commentary on reality television and the self-serving nature of celebrity was exquisite and pointed and summarized my opinions on trash reality television more succinctly than I could ever hope to do (paraphrasing): “We wheel out the disenfranchised for the amusement of multi-millionaires”. It seems like Gervais and Merchant had a lot they wanted to get off their collective chests.

As much as I was enamored with the conclusion, the lead up to Andy’s realization and the entire character arc was as articulate as anything we’ve seen on television since Mad Men ended its first season. The firing of the extra pleading with Andy for a line was particularly cringe-inducing. In his desperation to be taken seriously, Andy not only smiled in the man’s face (promised him his best effort) and stabbed him in the back (directed a PA to fire him), but also demanded that Maggie no longer approach him on set as to prevent the other extras from believing, “they’re equal to him”.

What a transition. All while juxtaposed to Maggie’s real life problems, Andy is decidedly worried about becoming one of the biggest celebrities in the world when his troubles pale in comparison to Maggie’s, who after being humiliated by Clive Owen was reduced to janitorial work. But Andy was so self-involved at that point that he failed to even know where she lived or where she worked.

It wasn’t all gloom and doom, there were some great comedic bits. Including everything mentioned with Merchant, there was the “queer bench” scene with George Michael who I didn’t recognize at first. The trading of barbs with the abrasive dude from Hell’s Kitchen (who had to have no idea what the theme of this movie/episode was going to be) and the audition scene with the girdle (when Andy was still in good humor and seemed to signify a turning point for him, since it was in front of his arch-nemesis).

Ultimately though, it was a story about the perils of celebrity and the downside to believing your own hype. Would Andy had been grateful for what he accomplished instead of projecting his petty nonsense onto everyone around him, he would have been content. Instead his obsession with attaining a respectable celebrity status led to his abandonment and ironically, made him wholly unpleasant. The celebrity he achieved with “When The Whistle Blows”, regardless of what he thought of his fans was what he ultimately longed for, more so than being an artist. Fame, she’s a cruel mistress.