Among the criticisms rightly levelled at the BBC are that its commissioning editors are overcautious, unimaginative, unadventurous and over-reliant on star names and proven formulae.
So I really didn’t have much hope for The Wrong Mans (BBC2, Tuesday), the latest vehicle for the painfully ubiquitous James Corden. Since Gavin & Stacey — which I know we’re all supposed to have cherished beyond measure — Corden has become as inescapable a part of the BBC furniture as David Jason was in the Eighties, or Robson & Jerome were in the Nineties. If Corden had pitched a script based on the Albanian telephone directory, I’m sure the BBC would have commissioned it like a shot. As indeed they did when Corden proffered something nearly as ominous: a comedy thriller set in and around Bracknell.
Bracknell? Oh dear. Wasn’t the so-dull-it’s-funny theme done to death when Ricky Gervais set The Office in Slough? Comedy thriller? That’s even worse. The reason the comedy thriller is the most reliably disappointing genre ever invented (apart from maybe jazz funk) is that each half of it continually undermines the other: the jokes and pratfalling prevent the build-up of tension; the necessary darkness, death and menace make the humour look tasteless and intrusive.
How come, then, that The Wrong Mans has turned out to be one of the most inspired and reliably enjoyable things on TV this year? Let’s start with the premise: Mathew Baynton plays Sam, the second most useless worker at the world’s dullest town council; and James Corden plays the worst — Phil Bourne, an insufferable attention-seeker from the postroom loathed by everyone for his irritating banter, his desperate courting of popularity and his pathetic fantasies of becoming an adventure hero.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in