Sunny D

A few months ago I wrote about the BBC’s latest batch of comedy pilots. I said how Home from Home wouldn’t be out of place on BBC1, and Motherland would be a perfect fit for BBC2. Since that review Home from Home and Motherland have been commissioned for a full series, begging the question: am I the most influential blog writer in the country? It’s a good job this blog’s raison d’etre is to exalt and champion; otherwise I fear my humble type could diminish and destroy.

Cross me and I'll write your obituary.

This week I’ve been watching Sunny D, a show that started off as an iPlayer pilot and is now about to conclude its first series on terrestrial. Written and created by Dane Baptise, an Edinburgh Best Newcomer nominee, the title is somewhat ironical: with Dane’s life clouded by work, family and relationships his disposition is a long way from sunny.

Different to many comedies, the show is populated by black characters. This is significant, since black voices have been ignored in sitcom for a long time. The Desmonds, a black sitcom, remains Channel 4’s longest running comedy, but that finished over 20 years ago. Can anyone remember a successful one since? This whitewashing of a much-loved genre is troubling, given how good television can communicate other experiences and stop prejudices from developing. Admittedly, bad sitcom can perpetuate stereotypes – see Mrs Brown’s Boys- but the point still stands. From the interviews I’ve heard with Baptiste you get the feeling that this responsibility weighs large; as a consequence, he wants to create something that does his culture justice. Many of his stand-up shows deal thoughtfully with issues of race and identity; fortunately his sitcom is no different.

The Desmonds.

The trust the producers have been put in Baptiste, allowing him to be the sole writer on the show, means the comedy feels completely idiosyncratic. Baptiste establishes what his comedy isn’t in the opening minutes, having his characters parody The Cosby Show’s cheesy credits. This then builds to the voice-over coda, “Sunny D is filmed in front of a live audience”, which Baptise undercuts with a forth wall sneer, “No, it’s not.” The moment is redolent of The Young Ones tearing a hole through The Good Life, an act of agitation designed to reject cardigan coziness for something more daring. We then segue into the next shot via J-Kwon’s Tipsy where a pissed Dane, backdropped by posters of Jay Z and Biggy, launches into a diss battle with his twin sister, Kadeen. The use of Hip Hop music juxtaposes Dane’s persona brilliantly; its brash energy serving as a blasting counterpoint to the character’s 9-5 drudgery.

The show is set within the four walls of Dane’s parents house – a place he has long outgrown. The fact that his sister still lives there only makes matters worse. If it wasn’t bad enough Kadeen took nutrients from him in the womb; now she sucks oxygen from his life too. Seeing two grown adults argue like children is hardly the stuff of comedy revolution, but here it’s a joy to behold. What’s funnier than a grown man belittling his twin sister’s baby plans with, “Who would want to fertilise you?” Only for the aforesaid to comeback, “Your breath stinks of fertiliser.” If these children weren’t cut from the same womb, they would resort to “your mum” jokes.

Sunny D

The head to head battles between Dane and his sister do offer fun, frothy laughs; but when Dane turns his head to the camera he has much to say about the issues that affect Generation Y. In one brilliant routine his character questions whether the domestic life is for him, updating Shakespeare’s Seven Ages of Man into a bitter reverie on household existence. Further, Baptiste’s former career of selling digital advertising makes him well-qualified to attack a capitalism system that puts a wall around your dreams. When his boss threatens him with human resources, he decries, “I’m not a resource. I’m a human being.” This Orwellian lament of being stuck in an environment that depersonalises, turning DNA into data, is something most can empathise with. In seeking to evade the responsibility of work and marriage, the sitcom asks the big question: is it running away if you don’t like what you’re running towards?

Sunny D is a special type of sitcom: it’s funny but it has something to say too. Only last year’s Master of None did as good a job at distilling ideology into entertainment. If Baptiste can follow up this series with another good one, then those  ‘Voice of a Generation’ articles might just hashtag him. Whatever happens, Baptiste is one to watch – in both senses of the word. 

On the rise.

Sunny D is available on iPlayer.