By Paul Bradley
Monster: The Ed Gein Story Netflix
Woody Allen used to talk about an old joke: two elderly women are at a holiday resort, and one of them says, “Boy, the food at this place is really terrible”, and the other one replies “Oh, I know; and such small portions.” As if the sheer volume of something could somehow make up for its bad quality. And now, having attained the wisdom of age, I see that not only is life itself like that – too much of everything, most of it dire – but TV channels have actually adopted it as a model. I mean, look at what we have: hundreds of channels, and barely enough decent content to fill one.
Which brings me to Halloween, which, in the spirit of Woody Allen’s joke, and the squeeze-every-drop age we live in, has become a month-long season of spooktacular dross; and to Netflix, which has so many grimy new scare stories it started releasing them three weeks ago. The centrepiece this year seems to be The Ed Gein Story, which is the third instalment of Ryan Murphy’s “Monster” anthology series telling the stories of some of the murderers who loom large in the imagination (the previous series were Dahmer and Menendez, still on Netflix).
Gein’s name is only now becoming generally familiar, but his impact on crime and horror culture has already been substantial: not only did he partly inspire the likes of Ted Bundy, but “the butcher of Plainfield”, as he was known, was also the germ behind films like Psycho and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He’s played here by (Charlie Hunnam), as a somewhat backward farmer, working meekly under the baleful eye of his mother Augusta (Laurie Metcalf). When she falls ill, Gein’s loneliness drives him into a relationship with local outcast Adeline (Suzanna Son), and ultimately to a series of gruesome murders that would shock the country.
There’s obviously a dark and fascinating story here, at least for those with the stomach for the worst of true crime. And it starts with an episode that’s a bit heavy-handed and familiar, but solid enough in setting up the overbearing mood in the family home, and in introducing the awkward, mouse-voiced central character. But the lurid tones there soon spread everywhere, and the focus moves away from the formative home towards the more culturally-mythologised Gein, bringing in ill-judged elements that were never part of the real story. In the end it’s unwatchable not because of the story but because it feels unreal; and weirdly, too, at times it feels as if it’s preaching at us for having an interest in such unspeakable crimes, even while it lingers too long on them itself.
Obituary RTE1, Tuesday, 10.15pm
Also suitable at this time of year, there’s still the odd, faint pulse of life in the rigid cadaver of RTE’s programming: Obituary, which has returned somewhat unexpectedly for a second season, is one example that, while not exactly bursting with life, at least has you wondering if you just saw some movement. It’s a dark sitcom which in practice is not always as funny as it should be (it is RTE, after all), but which comes with a deliciously dark premise that’s pleasantly far from RTE’s normal shouty, wig-wearing line of comedy: Siobhan Cullen plays Elvira, a struggling freelance journalist who has decided to keep her obituary-writing career busy by, well, making sure there are plenty of obituaries to be written.
As we rejoin her this year (covered in blood to begin with), Elvira has plenty of problems: her father’s death, guilty dreams, a vicious new owner (Vivienne Birch, played by Mairead Tyers) at her paper setting the journalists against one another, and a new intern called Ruby who is just as ruthless. In fact, once she steals a story from Elvira, Elvira begins to put a satisfying new plan together…
…and you can probably see where that goes, though of course there are other elements (like that sick cat) that leave you puzzling about plot points still to come. In all honesty, for the first of a new run it was a fairly dull episode: I can’t quite shake the feeling that the show has never lived, and will never live, up to the ghoulish potential of its basic premise. But it has a mordant tone, and a certain style, and Cullen is perfectly cast, so it still stands out from the majority of RTE’s comedies. Oh, and it’s set in the fictional Donegal town of Kilraven, if that lends it any extra interest.
Riot Women BBC1, Sunday, 9pm
Sally Wainwright’s latest BBC drama Riot Women is even heavier on the sassy-women-of-a-certain-age than the likes of Happy Valley, but despite the darkness the tone is generally lighter than you might expect. Take one of the very first scenes, in fact, in which the stressed and depressed Beth (Joanna Scanlan) is attempting to end it all – and would do it to if she just didn’t have to keep answering the phone. Then we’re quickly introduced to various other women of a similar age, all of whom have their own struggles: the menopause, empty lives, meaningless jobs, a feeling they are just becoming invisible. But instead of doing the normal things, instead of giving up, instead of doing therapy, they decide to form an angry rock band. As Beth says dryly, “We sing about being middle-aged and menopausal and invisible. And you thought the Clash were angry.”
It’s a decent idea for a show, and it’s as well-played as you expect from a cast that include not only the excellent Scanlan but Tamsin Greig as a retiring police officer, and Lorraine Asbourne as the pub-owner Jess. There is some drama, though it’s not all convincing, and there are some laughs, although too often the humour falls into twee Richard Curtis territory. As patchy as Evorel.
The Chair Company Sky Comedy, Monday, 9.45pm
It was always hard to explain the appeal of I Think You Should Leave, the sketch show in which Tim “you sure about that?” Robinson usually played angry men goaded and frustrated by corporate life. Well, he’s turned that kind of situation into a whole series now in The Chair Company, in which his character William, instead of receiving praise at a big office event on his behalf, is instead humiliated when his chair collapses under him. Unable to just laugh it off, he begins to investigate the manufacturers, negotiating past the recorded messages to discover what looks to be a vast furniture-based conspiracy.
The first episode was not always that funny – more a well-observed cringe, as when a hovering waitress spoils a sincere family moment. But the plot, and the characters (that caretaker possessive of his “indoor wheelbarrow”), are so unpredictable that you want to keep watching. Robinson’s William is a wonderfully coiled spring, and presumably, if you enjoyed his ITYSL rants, there will be some extended angry scenes to follow here – quite right too, if he’s going to be dealing with the awful corporate world.
