Mini-Review: "The Office"

The original BBC television series "The Office" debuted in 2001 and ended in 2003, but thanks to Netflix, I just finished watching it last night (actually, early this morning). Yes, there is a current American iteration on NBC that is doing quite well in the ratings, but I wanted to understand what the quiet little fuss over the original was all about. Plus, it is not very likely that I will dedicate extra time to a sitcom, so since I essentially had to choose between the original and the follow-up, it was the Brit version for me. (My recent appreciation of certain other aspects of British pop culture had little to do with my decision; that would just be pretentious.)

First, the disclaimers. If you have never liked British comedies, if you found Monty Python to be a noisy mess, if you think "Shaun of the Dead" was only a sub-par slasher flick, the BBC "The Office" may not be for you. If watching a show that is ostensibly in English with subtitles on is too much work (or, ahem, if you can't see the subtitles clearly), this is definitely not the show for you. If awkward silences caused by unforgivably offensive buffoonery make you watch the TV through your fingers, cringing ... well, you might just enjoy this.

The premise is relatively simple, and has been followed many times before: workers in an office, whose actual work is of little consequence and may actually be sucking their souls away on a daily basis, must put up with a distressingly self-important manager while trying to preserve little shreds of their humanity in any way they can. The blunderbuss boss, played by Ricky Gervais, is an astonishingly indecorous boor, whose tragic flaw is that he believes he is making his employees' lives better by trying to be their friend, when he is actually a spectacularly inept, corporate-speak-spouting insecure little man. It is not an understatement to say that Gervais' David Brent is a classic character in television history for the depth of his self-delusion and cringe-inducing attempts to explain himself and his philosophies. Admittedly, part of the jaw dropping effect of Gervais' portrayal comes from the occasional jarring crudity that both British culture and British television permit as a matter of course (fair warning: I do mean crude; if you blush easily, this may not be the show for you). However, while the British expression of the uncouth may be outlandish to America ears, there is certainly an equivalent in American life; the slang may be different, but the sentiment translates perfectly.

The supporting cast is relatively small, with a number of essentially nameless office drones and a few well-drawn featured roles. Brent's sycophantic deputy, Gareth, is a particularly memorable character, almost horrifying in his inability to filter his base impulses. Like Brent, he trudges through life seemingly unaware of what others think of him.

The surprising element of the show, however, is the office romance between Tim, the relatively sane fellow who graduated university a few years ago, is holding down a respectable job in the office, but can't quite figure out what to do next, and Dawn, the pretty receptionist who is engaged to a lunkhead from the warehouse who is (of course) unworthy of her. While the unrequited office romance is a relatively stock trope, it is handled here with great delicacy and charm, which is all the more sweet in the midst of the prevalent indelicacy surrounding them. The furtive glances, the gentle touch to the arm that only the would-be lovers think appears innocuous, the emotional charge in the few unexpected moments of connection ... the show plays it all to perfection by underplaying all of it.

The documentary style of the filmmaking relieves the show of the need to add cue music or audience laughter, which allows the many awkward moments (the show's stock in trade) to fester without an external auditory break to relieve the tension. The camera also has the freedom to close in on Brent, in particular, allowing him to fill the screen with his nonsense as he speaks to the viewer, wherein his explanation of his actions inevitably leave him looking the worse for it. The show also uses a long zoom shot to good effect, capturing the reaction of the entire room as well as the actions of others from afar, heightening the voyeristic feel of the viewer's intrusion into often very private moments.

That's a lot to say about a silly little sitcom that ran only 14 episodes. However, it is rare that a television show will introduce characters that are this memorable, most of whom are simply slightly more pained and painful versions of people we know rather than cartoons played for slapstick laughs. The BBC's "The Office" is certainly not for everyone. It is often uncomfortable, and nearly impossible to understand without subtitles, but if you like that sort of thing (and if you like a nice romance, surprisingly enough), it is well worth the time.