Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story: Knowing him, knowing him [movie note]
Starring Steve Coogan, Rob Brydon
Adapted by Martin Hardy (Frank Cottrell Boyce and Michael Winterbottom) from the novel by Laurence Sterne
Directed by Michael Winterbottom
Hilarious, though it was disconcerting that a substantial amount of the time I was laughing alone. Partly this was because of my familiarily with the collected works of Alan Partridge, so that I knew why Steve Coogan, playing "Steve Coogan", tut-tutted every time some exclaimed "Aha!" at him. But maybe I'm just easy -- after Rob Brydon (playing "Rob Brydon") claimed he was a co-lead, I guffawed at the "in order of appearance" in the opening credits.
Coogan, who also plays Tristram and Walter Shandy, has a quality which for good reason is rare in comedians: subtlety. His stock gag sees him trying to be clever and feeling satisfied in his cleverness, and then there comes a moment of anagnorisis when he realises he's dig a hole for himself. Coogan sometimes signals his miniature tragedies with a twitch or an eye movement; more often he simply does nothing and we (I) laugh in anticipation of what he may do when he does react. Brydon's point-scoring is enabled by Coogan's refusal to suffer fools -- which makes his own foolishness more poignant. (The other eyecatching performance is a tiny one by Gillian Anderson, part-time queen of costume drama. That reminds me, I need to find the Bleak House DVD.)
Coogan and Brydon wouldn't be nearly as funny talking to the camera: Winterbottom's structure is a persuasive argument against mockumentary. He gives up on the holistic adaptation of the novel early on, preferring to integrate odd snippets of Sterne into Coogan's interaction with his cast, crew, family and other hangers-on. As far as I've seen, the prolific Winterbottom has yet to make a great movie (though In This World came pretty close), and this isn't it: it's funny, nothing more. But as the director in Tristram Shandy (Jeremy Northam) knows, it's enough.
A MINUS
Further research: lots of stuff at the BBC's Life of Alan Partridge page, like this audio clip from his sportscaster days about Linford Christie's groin.
Adapted by Martin Hardy (Frank Cottrell Boyce and Michael Winterbottom) from the novel by Laurence Sterne
Directed by Michael Winterbottom
Hilarious, though it was disconcerting that a substantial amount of the time I was laughing alone. Partly this was because of my familiarily with the collected works of Alan Partridge, so that I knew why Steve Coogan, playing "Steve Coogan", tut-tutted every time some exclaimed "Aha!" at him. But maybe I'm just easy -- after Rob Brydon (playing "Rob Brydon") claimed he was a co-lead, I guffawed at the "in order of appearance" in the opening credits.
Coogan, who also plays Tristram and Walter Shandy, has a quality which for good reason is rare in comedians: subtlety. His stock gag sees him trying to be clever and feeling satisfied in his cleverness, and then there comes a moment of anagnorisis when he realises he's dig a hole for himself. Coogan sometimes signals his miniature tragedies with a twitch or an eye movement; more often he simply does nothing and we (I) laugh in anticipation of what he may do when he does react. Brydon's point-scoring is enabled by Coogan's refusal to suffer fools -- which makes his own foolishness more poignant. (The other eyecatching performance is a tiny one by Gillian Anderson, part-time queen of costume drama. That reminds me, I need to find the Bleak House DVD.)
Coogan and Brydon wouldn't be nearly as funny talking to the camera: Winterbottom's structure is a persuasive argument against mockumentary. He gives up on the holistic adaptation of the novel early on, preferring to integrate odd snippets of Sterne into Coogan's interaction with his cast, crew, family and other hangers-on. As far as I've seen, the prolific Winterbottom has yet to make a great movie (though In This World came pretty close), and this isn't it: it's funny, nothing more. But as the director in Tristram Shandy (Jeremy Northam) knows, it's enough.
A MINUS
Further research: lots of stuff at the BBC's Life of Alan Partridge page, like this audio clip from his sportscaster days about Linford Christie's groin.
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