Ricky Gervais’ eponymous alley cats have one thing in common with Buddy: they think they’re the toughest, most fearsome creatures on the block.
They might recoil in horror, jump back a dozen feet and soil themselves when a vegetable delivery man drops a cucumber on the sidewalk, but approximately half of their obscenity-peppered banter involves discussing other living things they reckon they’d destroy.
Among them: snails, elephants, meerkats, portly humans, sharks and anything besides spiders who are, invariably, referred to as “a bunch of c—s.”
When they’re not praising themselves for being fearless apex predators, hunting mice or watching “a bit of telly,” they’re ripping on Rupert, the only house cat in their gang, by reminding him he no longer has his testicles.
In an early episode the gang is poised on the wall of a cemetery, impatiently waiting for a “dead c—” to get buried so they can go hunting for mice when Rupert pads up, says hello and announces he’s already eaten: chicken and rabbit in gravy “with extra calcium.”
The others tear into him, asking him if his humans brushed him or gave him pudding afterwards.
“I have my pudding during the brushing,” he says, explaining that brushing is stressful and a simultaneous dessert “takes the edge off.”
That prompts another round of full-throated laughter and ball-busting over Rupert’s lack of them. Ricky Gervais’ Gus and Andrew Brooke’s Fang – a big bruiser tuxedo tom – lead the charge, making kissing sounds and mocking Rupert for being a sweet pet to his “mummy and daddy.”
When the scrawny Puke (David Earl) uses the freshly-dug grave as a litter box and Rupert protests, Gus waves a dismissive paw, insisting all humans are scum anyway.
“Not all of them,” Rupert says. “Attenborough. Malala. My owners, for instance.”
“His owners!” Fang says, breaking into mocking laughter.
“Do you hear yourself?” Gus says.
“They are my owners,” Rupert sniffs. “They paid a tidy sum for me, and I’m grateful. Otherwise I’d be rotting in a shelter or worse, living in a dump like you lot.”
Which, of course, prompts another round of mockery about Rupert’s missing bits.
That’s Alley Cats in a nutshell, no pun intended, until the appearance of a lost kitten gives the gang a purpose and brings out their humanity. (Catanity? Felinity?)
At first the alley cats are tempted to make a snack of the little one until Olive (Diane Morgan) reminds them she’s a baby, she’s lost, and they’re big, strong cats, which they’re always reminding everyone of.
Amid all the obscenities there are moments acknowledging that being a street cat is not an easy life. One minute the strays are joyously knocking flower pots off a window sill, the next they’re staring shocked at the body of their friend who was hit by a driver.
“He didn’t even stop,” one of them says. “He didn’t care.”
“Humans never do,” Gus replies matter-of-factly.
Later they find another one of their mates, an elderly tom, stuffed in a carrier.
“Off to the vet,” their friend says from his confinement.
“He’ll fix you right up,” Gus says.
“Nah,” the scraggly old tom says sadly. “I overheard ’em. This is a one-way trip.”
With their earlier exuberance wiped out, the alley cats decide to retreat for the day, prompting the kitten to ask them uncomfortable questions about mortality and what kind of life a cat can expect.
For Gus, it means being put in a tough spot. He clearly cares for the kitten, even inviting her to snuggle up with him when she’s whimpering alone at night, but he has a reputation to maintain. He’s Gus, fearless and tough street cat!
Alley Cats is not for everyone. There will be people who reach for the remote within the first two or three minutes because it is relentlessly obscene.
I’m not particularly bothered by foul language if there’s a genuine purpose to it, but too often it feels like it’s in the script in lieu of genuine jokes, as if Gervais is elbowing us like “See what I did there? I called him a c—! Haha! That’s funny, innit? My character is a cat who calls everyone c—s and tw–s! Brilliant.”
The UK press has savaged the show, concluding Gervais is capable of comedic brilliance but has become lazy and formulaic.
And that’s true to a degree, just like it’s accurate to say South Park is a festival of fart jokes. But just like the latter show also has a sharp satirical edge and functions as an equal opportunity eviscerator of the ridiculous, Alley Cats tries to say more. It just isn’t always successful.
Whether you stick around for the bigger themes depends on your personal tolerance for the banter they’re wrapped in.
Unfortunately it’s also true that the reflective moments are a little too formulaic, like the lesson-of-the-day from after-school TV years ago. Balancing comedy with earnestness is already a difficult task that requires timing and a degree of self-awareness that I’m not sure Gervais possesses at this stage of his career.
Reviewers who have soured on the UK comedian are increasingly convinced he requires the tempering influence of his The Office co-creator and writer, Stephen Merchant.
They may be on to something, but I also think it may cut both ways.
I really enjoyed Merchant’s HBO series, Hello Ladies. It was unlike anything else on TV and felt like a genuinely fresh approach to comedy. But it also operated at a default cringe level orders of magnitude more uncomfortable than other shows.
There were times when the situations in Hello Ladies became so embarrassing, so completely detached from the norms of social behavior, that I had to pause the show and take a break.
I’m not the only one who felt that way. Reviews at the time were fixated on the improbably powerful osmotic cringe effect, and Merchant didn’t know when to let up. Just as you felt so mortified that you’d swear things couldn’t possibly get worse, Mechant found ways to crank it up.
The career trajectories of both men indicate a reunion just might be the best thing for them. If Netflix gives Alley Cats a green light for another season, Merchant could fit right in with the gang as a lanky Savannah, a wannabe Lothario who prompts Gervais’ Gus to lean less on the c-word and more on genuine humor, while Gus could bring Merchant’s cat back down to Earth by reintroducing him to reality every once in a while.
I’m sure that, whatever might come from a new collaboration, it would be better than the moderately funny Alley Cats.
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