This preference can also be seen in our
comedy output in which it seems that we favour the outspoken knobheads over
anything else. Again this differs to America who for some reason seem to prefer
fucktards like Homer Simpson, Peter Griffin and The Bluth Family. I'm not
saying that we don't like them too it's just that when we have to get creative,
our collective psyche produces things that are a touch darker. Our most popular
characters include such dicks as Basil Fawlty, Jim Royale, Malcolm Tucker,
Victor Meldrew, David Brent and of course Alan Partridge. Although the cause of
their dickishness varies with each, the common theme seems to be that all of
them are more than willing to speak their mind and with little regard to how
much of a twat it might make them seem. My theory for this is that as a nation
we tend to be quite repressed and so hide our frustrations through sarcastic
politeness and life threatening stomach ulcers. Therefore watching someone who’s
clearly free of our crippling self-awareness is like a nation-wide
therapy.
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| Norfolk's maddest man! |
Although British sitcoms have had a
particularly dodgy history of translating to film, the latest of our creations
to attempt the leap of faith is Alan Partridge however the movie deserves
credit right away for not doing the ball-numbingly dull cliché of simply having
the characters go on holiday. Everything from On the Buses to Kevin
and Perry Go Large have tried that and unsurprisingly this valiant attempt
at not learning from a previous mistake has usually resulted in ninety minutes
of pure sun-baked shite. If they're all just lemmings mindlessly following each
other over the cliff though, then Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa is the
first to notice the twatting chasm of death and decide to fuck it right off.
Rather interestingly, it seems that this film is instead drawing inspiration
from something like Dog Day Afternoon in which a botched hostage
situation becomes a media clusterfuck. To summarise the plot, Alan's radio
station is about to be taken over by a bland corporation that intends to make
redundant any of its employees that have committed the bastard sin of being
over thirty. As a result, one of the staff goes absolutely apeshit with a
shotgun, takes over the radio station, ties up the management and makes Alan
the middle man between him and the police. The film is kind of like a Norfolk
based remake of Die Hard and about as cool as that probably sounds.
There's a simple question that will quickly
assess whether or not you'll like this film- ‘do you like Alan Partridge?’ If
the answer is no then I imagine that for you this will be the comedy equivalent
of smearing jam up your arse and then spooning in some horny fire ants to clean
it out. Luckily for me though I answered yes and so what followed was not only
one of the funniest films of the year but pretty much the funniest film I can
remember seeing at the cinema. I mean I probably laughed a lot more whilst
watching Dunston Checks In but that was 1996, I was about seven years
old and children are morons. There was a toddler at my house the other day and
he laughed more at his own feet than the carefully crafted wanking jokes I was
writing. The fucking idiot. Anyway for anybody who’s yet to meet Alan, he's
self-obsessed, arrogant, easily agitated and so basically a prick. However, I
still find him sympathetic because all of this comes from his need to be famous
which in itself is due to his insecurities and desire to be loved. Plus he has an
appreciation that's almost equal to mine for the Bond Franchise and in
particular Roger Moore which is I think enough to excuse anybody of almost any
behaviour. It's depressing how often I talk to people about that franchise and
end up mentally screaming, “Stop getting Bond wrong!”
I think one of the reasons that this film
works so well is because a film is exactly what it is. Other than fucking off
to Spain, another problem that movies based on sitcoms have is that they tend
to feel like one episode of the show but forced to last a longer running time. The
genius of Alpha Papa is in recognising that an episode of a sitcom is
very different to one of those weird fleshy, trunk, foreskins that some people
have and so cannot simply be stretched out. The Simpsons Movie was
particularly guilty of this with one of its biggest problems being that it
really felt like it dragged. The other main problem of The Simpson Movie
was simply that it was shit. Perhaps though a trip to the land of movies is
easier for Partridge because he, as a character, is bigger than any one of the
mediums he's appeared in. He's done sitcoms, chat-shows, Internet Radio Shows
and has even written a book that was rather brilliantly entitled I
Partridge: We Need To Talk About Alan. With all that, I suppose a film
seemed obvious to the point that you wonder why it's taken twenty years for
them to get around to it. I need another Mr. Bean movie as much as I need a
glass thermometer snapped halfway down my cock but an Alan Partridge film seems
more than logical.
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| "There must have been quite a few angels." |
If I was to criticise Alpha Papa then
I guess it feels like it was probably once a much longer movie than it has
finally ended up being. As a result there are certain sub-plots that seem a
little un-explored as though, like a gay chap in Russia, they were simply cut
or removed with sociopathic ruthlessness. An example of this might be a subplot
involving a love interest for Alan that could probably have benefit from a
little more development. It's not that I don't believe anybody would sleep with
him- it's just that I don't believe anybody would sleep with him for free.
Although you know what, fuck it! I'd rather have a leaner running time and
non-stop hilarity than the indulgently long and smug comedies of someone like
Judd Apatow. I remember going to see Borat and although it was funny,
I'd seen all the best bits in the trailer. Thankfully this isn't the case with Alpha
Papa which contains about three jokes every two and half seconds. Coogan
has been playing Partridge for so long now that it must be like being possessed
for him with the two consciences inhabiting the same fleshy frame. The role
seems to come so naturally too that the performance becomes layered with so
many ticks and nuances that I know I'm going to be noticing new things for years
to come. I'm not sure what Coogan's face is made of but it must be the same
mushy gloop as what Jim Carrey's malleable pink meat flapper is.
I could be wrong but with the regularity of
one liners and genius of the script Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa could well
end up being the British version of Spinal Tap. I won't ruin any jokes
except to say that the title of this blog was my favourite line and coupled
with Coogan's performance, it just cracked me the fuck up. I'd been laughing
most of the way through but this was the moment that I became particularly
grateful for the strength of my internal piss-organs. Those who know about
Partridge's history will know that he once sunk into a depression and became
dangerously addicted to the chocolate jaw fucker that is Toblerone. Ever since
then he's always seemed like he's on the verge of another melt down and as long
as he is, I know I'll keep on watching.
Follow this blog or I'll fucking cut you.
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