#85 Killing It
28/08/22 11:42
As the mighty Miriam Margolyes recently observed, ‘England is fucking shite at the moment, they’re all cuntfaces and I hate it.’
That’s pretty much where I am right now, and as you well know, what I do when I’m in that frame of mind is seek out something lovely on the telly to get me through it. Ghosts series 4 won’t start for yonks, but in the meantime, I’ve been enjoying the second season of Only Murders in the Building, and am here to tell you it’s wonderful and you should let it be your pick-me-up in these cuntfacey times.
Cosy crime is a big thing right now, what with R*chard O*man selling three billion copies a second, and Rev Coles giving up God to get in on the act. I like a bit of larky murder, but OMITB is SO much more than that. I can’t remember when I’ve watched such a joyously inventive, ingenious, wryly meta series, but it also has a tremendous sense of warmth, like a cashmere wrap on a blustery day in Central Park. And it’s really, really funny.
If you’re not familiar then here’s the gen: it’s set in the Arconia, one of those glorious grand old apartment blocks in New York where doormen tip their hats and old ladies in fur coats totter about carrying little dogs. Our central characters are the unlikely trio of Steve Martin as Charles-Haden Savage, a has-been actor, Martin Short as Oliver Putnam, a has-been theatre director, and Selena Gomez as Mabel Mora, a wannabe artist who’s renovating her Arconia residence for her aunt. You can imagine how another series would have stuck with Martin and Short, exploiting the delicious chemistry of these two seasoned comedy performers, but adding Gomez to the mix creates a whole new dynamic, injects new blood, gives it an edge. It’s refreshing to see two old white men so gracefully share their stage.
In the first series, the threesome investigated a Murder-in-the-Building™, creating a successful true crime podcast in the process, and in the second instalment the experience is repeated, with a juicy new bloodbath to probe and pontificate on. This time there’s an added complication as they are also the suspects, and a rival podcast (hosted by Cinda Canning – Tina Fey sensationally channelling her inner B.I.T.C.H) is muscling in on their territory. In the course of their inquiries, they discover a network of secret tunnels in the building, inherit the victim’s pet bird, corner their prime suspect with a glitter bomb, and hold a ‘killer reveal party’ to unmask the baddie. As you may have gathered, the whole thing is unrepentantly, magnificently silly, but don’t let that lull you into thinking it’s lightweight. There’s more insight, craft and cleverness in this series than in the most po-faced mumbling ‘serious’ dramas. The writers and creators are constantly playing with ideas and form – an episode in the first series is almost entirely silent, thanks to one of the key characters being deaf. There are intricate, compelling sub-plots, mysterious flashbacks, hefty red herrings, superb cameos (Sting in a lift, anyone?), and really nifty dialogue. Every performance – particularly the leads – is bang on, and the cast is pleasingly diverse in a way that doesn’t feel like tokenism.
The denouement of the first series featured such spectacular clowning that it made me weep with laughter, and the latest series finale didn’t disappoint either – flamboyant, ambitious, twisty and downright hilarious. Plus, the tease for the next season was mouth-watering, starring PAUL RUDD *sigh* no less. With that, and Ghosts S4 on the horizon, living in England doesn’t feel quite so fucking shite.
Well, it does, but I’m running away covered in glitter, and can’t see the mess that’s left behind.
That’s pretty much where I am right now, and as you well know, what I do when I’m in that frame of mind is seek out something lovely on the telly to get me through it. Ghosts series 4 won’t start for yonks, but in the meantime, I’ve been enjoying the second season of Only Murders in the Building, and am here to tell you it’s wonderful and you should let it be your pick-me-up in these cuntfacey times.
Cosy crime is a big thing right now, what with R*chard O*man selling three billion copies a second, and Rev Coles giving up God to get in on the act. I like a bit of larky murder, but OMITB is SO much more than that. I can’t remember when I’ve watched such a joyously inventive, ingenious, wryly meta series, but it also has a tremendous sense of warmth, like a cashmere wrap on a blustery day in Central Park. And it’s really, really funny.
If you’re not familiar then here’s the gen: it’s set in the Arconia, one of those glorious grand old apartment blocks in New York where doormen tip their hats and old ladies in fur coats totter about carrying little dogs. Our central characters are the unlikely trio of Steve Martin as Charles-Haden Savage, a has-been actor, Martin Short as Oliver Putnam, a has-been theatre director, and Selena Gomez as Mabel Mora, a wannabe artist who’s renovating her Arconia residence for her aunt. You can imagine how another series would have stuck with Martin and Short, exploiting the delicious chemistry of these two seasoned comedy performers, but adding Gomez to the mix creates a whole new dynamic, injects new blood, gives it an edge. It’s refreshing to see two old white men so gracefully share their stage.
In the first series, the threesome investigated a Murder-in-the-Building™, creating a successful true crime podcast in the process, and in the second instalment the experience is repeated, with a juicy new bloodbath to probe and pontificate on. This time there’s an added complication as they are also the suspects, and a rival podcast (hosted by Cinda Canning – Tina Fey sensationally channelling her inner B.I.T.C.H) is muscling in on their territory. In the course of their inquiries, they discover a network of secret tunnels in the building, inherit the victim’s pet bird, corner their prime suspect with a glitter bomb, and hold a ‘killer reveal party’ to unmask the baddie. As you may have gathered, the whole thing is unrepentantly, magnificently silly, but don’t let that lull you into thinking it’s lightweight. There’s more insight, craft and cleverness in this series than in the most po-faced mumbling ‘serious’ dramas. The writers and creators are constantly playing with ideas and form – an episode in the first series is almost entirely silent, thanks to one of the key characters being deaf. There are intricate, compelling sub-plots, mysterious flashbacks, hefty red herrings, superb cameos (Sting in a lift, anyone?), and really nifty dialogue. Every performance – particularly the leads – is bang on, and the cast is pleasingly diverse in a way that doesn’t feel like tokenism.
The denouement of the first series featured such spectacular clowning that it made me weep with laughter, and the latest series finale didn’t disappoint either – flamboyant, ambitious, twisty and downright hilarious. Plus, the tease for the next season was mouth-watering, starring PAUL RUDD *sigh* no less. With that, and Ghosts S4 on the horizon, living in England doesn’t feel quite so fucking shite.
Well, it does, but I’m running away covered in glitter, and can’t see the mess that’s left behind.
- Only Murders in the Building – two series, Hulu (Disney+)
