Inside Number Nine

This week I’ve chosen to write about something that I’ve covered before. Previously, I’ve written blogs on Catastrophe and Love, but as good as those returning series are I’ve chosen this week to revisit Inside Number Nine.

For me this week’s episode was manna dropped from the storytelling Gods. It is unlikely there will be a better half hour of television this year. The challenge of packing intrigue, suspicion, romance and heartache into thirty minutes is akin to fitting the England rugby team into a Mini Cooper – it should be impossible, but in the hands of Shearsmith and Pemberton it's achieved.

Typically, writers Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton deal in the macabre and the grotesque. They came to fame with The League of Gentlemen, a carnivalesque satire on small-town life that I’ve not seen, but in using highfalutin terms it appears otherwise. From there they moved onto Psychoville, a comedy horror-show, boasting an originality that needed to be seen to be believed (No, I ashamedly didn’t watch it either – I did hear about it though). With their current output, Inside Number Number Nine, they appear to have watered down the high camp scare of the aforementioned without compromising their heady brew.

League of Gentlemen

Inside Number Nine doesn’t have the frightening latex and make-up of the pair’s previous work; it is an altogether more natural affair. Set in the revolving real world settings of call centres, restaurants and film sets, the duo are no longer bringing the freak show to town; instead they’re highlighting the monsters that lay within. Over its three series, the show has excelled at presenting normal people doing bad things with devastating glee. Many of their episodes still have nods to horror genre; although for me, their two finest are complete human dramas.

The Twelve Days Of Christine premiered two years, starring Sheridan Smith. Many critics put it on their end of year list as an example of great television. It episodically told the story of Christine’s life over a twelve year period. For comedians, whose taste lies in horror, there wasn’t a more moving moment on the 2015 screen than seeing Smith ascertain the secret of her mind.

Sheridan Smith in Twelve Days...

I believe this week’s episode Empty Orchestra rivals that superlative offering. The title is so called because it’s the literal translation of karaoke- karaoke because the drama takes place inside a karaoke room marked ‘9.’ First in the booth is the sumo suited Greg. He puts on Human League’s Don’t You Want Me and proceeds to waddle around the microphone until Connie, an Amy Winehouse tribute, joins him. The two’s intense look and kiss is cut short by the movement of the door; quickly lipstick is wiped from the crime scene as they welcome Fran, who's channeling schoolgirl Britney.

It’s popstar fancy dress then; only not everyone is taking part. Rodger comes in looking every inch the office worker: the only nod he’s made to enforced fun is a red nose that sits uneasy. People have come to celebrate his promotion so it seems a little surprising he hasn’t dressed as a bon viveur. Behind him enters Janet, who dressed as Boy George immediately assumes outsider status by turning down her hearing aid.

Popstar: The love rivals.

The party is soon in full swing, although tensions lie beneath. First, there is talk of job cuts that Greg seems to be worried about. It appears that Rodger has been tasked with streamlining the company, meaning one of the partygoers faces the chop – a murder mystery without the murder then. Also, it soon materialises that Greg and Connie’s kiss wasn’t covered up because they wanted to keep business and pleasure separate; but because Greg’s lips are betrothed to Fran- his fiancée. If the adulterers aren’t careful, an evening of strangled vocal chords could result in- well- an evening of ….

Entering the mix later is Duane, an affable Michael Jackson alike, doing his best to enliven the shindig with some soft drugs. His song selection is of course Wham Rap! (‘Hey everybody take a look at me, I’ve got street credibility, I may not have a job, But I have a good time, With the boys I meet down on the line!’) I love how the writers have woven the music into the drama: this isn’t the crowbar jukebox of Homes Under The Hammer where the presenter’s line segues into a pop lyric which literalises the same thing; but a subtle nod to the keen observer. (The reason for latter choices will only become apparent on second viewing when you’re familiar with the plot twists.)

An office party.

Although Greg is dressed as Psy from Gangnam Style, he has actually come to the party as Machiavelli. He is scheming behind his fiance’s back in flirting with Connie, and he’s scheming behind his new boss's back to get an ID on the sacking. Amidst all the subterfuge, there is purity and kindness. Janet stands looking yearningly at Duane. She loves his love of laughter and music. Her deafness does not disable her from joy: she shares these passions. To participate in the majesty of music, she puts her hand to the speaker so she can experience the throb of vibration. Connie dismisses this deafness as stupidity. (Be careful though Connie: discounting Janet on such grounds may prove dangerous.) Profoundly deaf actress Emily Howlett plays Janet beautifully, showing there's more to deafness than frustration.

Even though the singing in this week’s episode was off-key, the same charge can’t be levelled at the script. In The Empty Orchestra Pemberton and Shearsmith have masterfully conducted a composition that will bring the gallery and the boxes to their feet. Take a bow, lads! Take another! We stand. We applaud you.

Inside Number Nine is on iPlayer.