Extras Series Finale

Dear Ricky Gervais,
It really pains me to write this. Really pains me. You have no idea. You see, I’ve been in love with you for a very long time. I adore everything you’ve ever written or acted in. So you can imagine how hard it is for me to break up with you. And no, I didn’t plan to do this through a letter, but face-to-face is more difficult given that you don’t even know I exist. And the fact that you’d probably issue a restraining order against me that bandied about the term “stalker” if we ever did meet.

Alas…

I just watched the series finale episode to Extras, "The Extra Special Series Finale" and I’ve determined that we need to spend a little time apart. It’s not me, Ricky. It’s you.

You are a comedian, Ricky. You are a funny man. So to make me endure nearly two hours of mostly humorless, indulgent and sentimental tripe was just not fair. There is a reason that, say, Chris Rock has never been cast as Hamlet. We like our funny men to be funny. Seeing you mope through two hours of film was like going to a dry wedding. It was a total bummer.

Don’t get me wrong, you did have some moments of sublime humor and your castmates, particularly your hapless agent, were brilliant. And I did love the ending. But all in all it was a bit of a bummer. So we have to spend a little time apart Ricky. But don't worry, like any good stalker, I will be back.

Abiento,
M.Q.

Week 6: Extras, Season 1, Disc 2

Okay, I still really love this show but let me just say it would be a lot funnier if I knew who random British actors were such as Les Dennis. Les Dennis, anyone? Anyone? I thought not. Apparently he's a sad-sack has-been from the British stage and screen. He's just the sort of person I hope our own Tom Cruise will grow up to be one day.

There was an episode on this disc that starred Samuel L. Jackson but sadly, never once did Mr Jackson ever scream to Ricky Gervais, "What you mumblin' about, you cracker-ass tea-drinkin' muthafucka?" Although there was a hilarious scene in which Maggie tries to hide her sambo doll from her black date, then proceeds to pantomime the black doll humping a white doll to prove she's not a racist. This is the kind of thing that went on in my rural Ohio hometown all the time. Except that no one wanted to disprove their racism. And sambo dolls were celebrated. And dating a black man wasn't even in the realm of possibilities if you wanted to keep all your teeth intact and your car un-burned. Otherwise, just the same sort of thing. Pip-pip.

PS: if you rent Extras, be advised to turn the subtitles on while you watch. We're fairly confident we missed out on half the jokes in the first few episodes because that cracker-ass tea-drinkin' mofo is a bit of a mumbler.

Week 6: Extras, Season 1, Disc 1

My husband and I are currently baby poor (meaning that every spare dollar we have goes to daycare and diapers and tiny jars of things like “pureed pea and ground beef soufflé”). As such, we have no extra dimes for luxuries such as HBO. So, we watch the Sopranos and Entourage via Netflix rentals a year after we’ve heard all the spoilers already. It kind of sucks, but every once in a while we stumble across a gem that hasn’t had a lot of hype, like the lovely little pearl called Extras.

This show is the brainchild of Ricky Gervais, creator of the BBC’s original The Office series. In Extras, he plays essentially the same verbal-diarrhea-plagued character he did on The Office, only this time as a man making a living as a movie extra. It’s a great premise because every half-hour episode centers on a different movie set and has a different guest star. The first episode, entitled “Kate Winslet”, has a hilarious story line of Kate Winslet instructing the extras how to properly have dirty phone sex. All while she’s dressed in a nun’s habit. Brilliant.

The show is a lot of fun and Gervais is a master at developing socially awkward dialogue that makes you squirm in your seat. I love Ricky Gervais so much that I’m absolutely convinced that if I ever met him, I would become so completely baffled and tongue-tied that instead of saying all the hilarious, witty things I had planned, our meeting would instead go something like this:

RICKY: Oh, ‘ello, then. Nice to meet you.

ME: Ha ha ha ha! So funny!

RICKY: I just said ‘ello love. That wasn’t funny. It was jus’ a regular greeting. A salutation if you will.

ME: Wheeeeeee!

RICKY: [confused] What’s that?

ME: Duur, uh…

RICKY: [whispering to his companion] What’s this then? You didn’t tell me she was mental.

ME: No, ah…I not…mental.

RICKY: She’s a complete sodding retard, i’nt she? Look a’ that. She’s got drool runnin’ down the side of ‘er mouth.

ME: [trying to touch his face] No! I smart! I really smart, Ricky Gervais! Ricky Gervais!

RICKY: [winking to his companion] Oh, yes. Sure you are. You’re the bloody Noble prize winner, aren’t you, love? Got the trophy back at home, do ya? Right next to your white paper on splittin’ the atom?

ME: Glurspank!

RICKY: Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to get her retard germs on me.

ME: [after Ricky leaves] Bloody hell.