He really needs to get a hobby, the miserable cunt.
So here he is again, Ricky Gervais expounds on life, the pointlessness and everything, as viewed through the eyes of Tony, journalist and widower. Season three continues in much the same vein as the previous two seasons, with the same dark humour, tender moments of humanity, peppered with genuine nuggets of wisdom and messages of hope for the hopeless everywhere.
Gervais is unnervingly good at this and say what you like, this is as far removed from what you can define as comedy that he's ever done. I don't think he would mind me saying this in the least.
Granted, it does have moments that are still jaw-droppingly funny, but only because they seem so out of place and are so unexpected. If there is a criticism, it would be that the setups for his moments of serendipity are much more obvious in this season than they have been in the past. This may come from Tony beginning to accept the loss of his much-loved wife, or maybe Gervais is thinking that Tony needs to grow, finally. As season four is greenlit, you do have to wonder where Tony will go from here because much of the draw was his acerbic, razor-sharp wit and withering abuse of everyone around him.
Regardless, this is still top drawer stuff from Gervais. I would wonder if a fourth season would be a great idea, given where these six episodes have taken us this time, but hey, I'm prepared to let the multi-millionaire creative genius make up his own mind.
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