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Inside My Brain
After Life (by Ricky Gervais)
03/12/2019
There are people who have made enormous contributions to comedy who still remain rather anonymous in the United States. Larry David and Lorne Michaels for example. They've been the driving forces - writers, sometimes performers, talent scouts - for decades of comedy, and yet probably 25x more people know their products than know their names. Saturday Night Live, Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm. In that regard, they're somewhat unsung comedic geniuses.
Another on that list is Ricky Gervais.
Mind you, I'm not a comedian compared to these people, or to even ordinary comedians. I'm funny compared to regular people, and that's about it. Which leaves me insightful into this world that I love. What that means for true comedians is that I'm a dreaded critic. Comedians hate critics and executives because we can't create like comedians can. All critics can do is review and attempt to punch-up jokes/lines/scripts. I've accepted that.
Back to Ricky Gervais. He embodies what I truly admire about my favorite comedians. That is, he walks around and observes the same world the rest of us do, and finds a different way to see things. Sometimes it's awkward, blunt, and almost contemptuous, but it's different, and it's damn funny. Did I mention The Office is his brain child? Another decade-long world-renowned smash.
I don't do much internet research. I'm not connected. When I saw "After Life" and Ricky's adorable face and dad-bod (are we still saying that?) belly pop up on Netflix, I didn't know what to expect (frankly, I expected it to be a stand-up special), but I was excited to give it a whirl.
After watching, I can say this: Not everyone will be able to handle this show. After Life is super funny and deeply moving, but it's not for everyone.
The only thing I can compare it to is taking all the wit and self-absorption and psychological problems of the four main characters in five seasons of You're the Worst, and slamming them all into one character (Ricky Gervais as Tony) over six half-hour episodes. It's a journey, and a heavy one. You'll also find a couple familiar whiffs of some Office awkwardness, but shifted over to the dark end of the spectrum a few notches.
Here's where I try to give you all the reasons why it's so great without providing spoilers.
We're greeted off the top in most, if not all, episodes with Tony watching videos of his wife, who has died of cancer (breast cancer says the internet, but I don't recall when they mentioned that on the show). Some are videos she secretly made for him for after she passed; some are playful videos of him sneaking up on her during pre-illness days and scaring her with an air horn while sleeping or painting. She's never mad; you can tell from these contemporaneous clips that their relationship was close and loving and fun. These videos are woven into the fabric of the show, and keep us grounded in Tony's nearly hopeless mental state.
Tony is depressed, perhaps suicidal (another character challenges whether he is or isn't, which I thought was an excellent inclusion to the show in and of itself), but channels this through a delightfully fun lens of the Freudian id. He finds freedom in his numbness and detachment, being able to say and do anything he wants. No worries, no cares. In the event of truly fucking something up, he keeps suicide in his back pocket as "a superpower" that he can always fall back on. This leads to a great deal of the show's comedy...his frustrations and abrasive interactions with the people surrounding him, be they co-workers, would-be muggers, a new postman, his detached/bored shrink, or grade schoolers(!).
The nature of his work is another source of the show's comedy. Tony is employed as a feature writer for a small, free newspaper, the Tambury Gazette, which puts on its front page the likes of a boy who can play two recorders simultaneously, with his nose, or a man who received five of the same birthday card. With only six episodes and a lot of healing to do, it's no surprise that our main character occasionally gleans a snippit of insight from these otherwise eccentric individuals who seem to be seeking small-time fame or recognition, and if you want to go deeper, for a variety of reasons.
On a personal level, I do enjoy Ricky weaving in some of personal beliefs. Followers of his work and life know that he's a avid atheist (which his character defends to a co-worker in the show) and lover of animals. One of those might be tough for people to swallow. (Just know that I'll be judging you, but in different ways, if you have a problem with either.)
Further weighing on viewers processing his wife's passing, there are other heavy parts to this show. Tony frequently visits his dad, who has dementia. He bonds, in an odd way, with a drug-addicted co-worker. And in addition to our main character's suicidal references, there are two suicides: one mentioned as happening in the past, and another (arguable assisted) that happens during the show. As such, I wouldn't lazily classify this as a dark comedy. It's both dark AND a comedy.
Outside of the comedy of dissing co-workers and threatening children, I think our favorite parts are supposed to be Tony's interactions with Anne, an older widow he meets at the cemetary. While we find Tony's therapist ineffective, sometimes yawning or engaging in Twitter spats during sessions, Anne helps by providing true perspective on what we humans are doing here on this earth. In the end, we don't find a fully healed Tony, but he does declare himself no longer suicidal. And if we're continuing our brief detour into Freud's teachings, Gervais' character seems to accept that holding on to the pain only serves to feed his ego, of the person he perceives himself to be. Holding onto it doesn't equal holding on to her. I don't want to step on the lesson that they directly discuss because I want you to watch and experience this masterpiece of a show for yourself.
Have fun!
-Tony