Ricky Gervais as David Brent in the original UK version of The Office.
Australia is the latest country to remake Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant’s sitcom. It’s a hard act to follow.
“A good idea,” David Brent said, “is a good idea — for ever.” And so, last week, the Australian version of The Office becomes the 14th take on the era-defining sitcom; the one that started out in Slough in 2001 and has now reached the suburb of Rydalmere in Sydney.
So far, we have had a version in France (Le Bureau), Chile (La Ofis) and Canada (La Job), to name but three, all sharing the same crucial DNA as the original —why is it that we have to spend more time with our colleagues than with people we actually like?
Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant’s sitcom is, to many, the greatest ever. The funniest? Well, Fawlty Towers, Only Fools and Horses and Blackadder would challenge that claim, but none of those classics made viewers reevaluate their lives. The Office was about making the most of what we are given and that simple premise is why the setting continues to be translated. And nothing unites people more than bitching about a boss. Or fancying somebody you should not (Tim and Dawn). Or winding up the pernickety irritant (Gareth). Or dreading your conversations with the weirdo (Keith) and enforced workplace fun. Or, of course, fearing redundancy…
In a world of cultural differences, The Office contains universal truths. The actor and writer Jesse Eisenberg, the star of The Social Network, sums up the original well — it has inspired much of his work. “Brent,” he says, “is just such an unbelievably rendered presentation of this man who was not just comedically offensive but also deeply pained.”
Germany, in 2004, was the first to import Gervais and Merchant’s franchise with the show Stromberg (and we’re not even meant to share a sense of humour with the Germans). The American take, which made Steve Carell a star, ran for eight years from 2005 and became better viewed and, to some, even better loved than the original.
The secret? Carell — and the fact that it ran for so long that it was able to break free from Slough and do its own thing. The Office’s licensing deal insists on the first three episodes sticking to the plot of the British version before allowing free rein. There are offices in Israel, India, Saudi Arabia; a global expansion to rival the Olympics. The Canadian boss is called David Gervais.
And now, Australia. While some things are the same — Nick and Greta, for instance, are very much the down under answer to Tim and Dawn and they, like Wernham Hogg, flog paper — some characters and elements are new. There was no HR department in Slough; there is one here — and the central conceit is fresh. It is about post-Covid employees being forced back to the commute and cubicles.
Oh, and there is a female boss — Hannah, played by Felicity Ward. A section of the internet, in their mothers’ basements, vented against this without seeing an episode, but honestly who cares. What is crucial is the writing and the first episode felt flat. The problem was too much familiarity in Nick and Greta, with glances and rumours done better by Martin Freeman and Lucy Davis, or, should you be so inclined, their US mimics, Jim (John Krasinski) and Pam (Jenna Fischer).
Still, perhaps we are only meant to watch the version of The Office made for us — which allows the jokes to be kept fresh and also provides room for culturally specific nods, like Comic Relief in the BBC episodes. To western eyes, Saudi Arabia’s version — Al Maktab — might raise more questions than it answers about the role of women in their society, or if any of the characters, such as Oscar in the US version of The Office, are gay. To Saudi locals, however, the show would simply be another sitcom, judged on whether the jokes land.
The Israeli show, meanwhile, HaMisrad, ended in 2013 and would probably be different now. The Gareth character boasts about being a veteran of a secret branch of the Israeli army. But when it was made, the writer Uzi Weil said that while the series was set in a place of work, there were key differences between his interpretation and the ones with Gervais and Carell. “In an English or American office, you keep views to yourself,” Weill said. “But here, all racial and religious aspects of our lives are out in the open. Our show is not based on, ‘What would happen if I say this really horrible thing?’ Instead, we think, ‘What will happen after I say it?’”
OK, but really these international takes are all the same. They are about the floorspace we share for hours with people we barely know and the awkwardness and agony that brings. And this is the problem for every spin-off — the challenge of living up to the original. Canada, Chile, Czech Republic, France, India, Saudi Arabia? All lasted one series. Most others only eked into a second. The shadow of Brent, and Carell’s Michael Scott, are too long and, indeed, too available.
How, though, has the BBC blueprint aged? Mostly very well. Some of the rampant, very open misogyny seems overdone, even for 20 years ago; while homophobic jokes are told by characters (such as Tim) whose side we are meant to be on. Maybe this a result of Wernham Hogg not having an HR department. But, more often than not, the series remains hilarious and moving — partly because nothing in the work environment has changed, but largely because the writing is still so sharp.
The jokes, straight or surreal, just keep on coming. For me — on a rewatch — I totally lost it when Brent was asked to name his biggest disappointment and immediately said: “Alton Towers.” As the boss, Gervais had the knack for telling perfect jokes for Brits — jokes that clearly also took off in Australia.
Written by: Jonathan Dean
© The Times of London
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