Linda Herrick: Lost in translation

In 2004, some well-groomed, facelifted heads turned when Ricky Gervais won two Golden Globes for his existential tragi-comedy series The Office. Ricky who? The what? American stars at the Globes were visibly bemused as Gervais, a non-star looking chap, deadpanned his way through a short acceptance speech.


That the glitterati of Hollywood knew nothing of one of the most clever comedies of the times, even though it had screened on BBC America, speaks volumes about their cultural insularity. That's never stopped them from nicking good ideas though - and ruining them.


American television is littered with the corpses of British comedies the Yanks have turned into turkeys through the deathly concept of the remake. They rarely get it right because their TV execs are ruled by the bottom line.


They are also terrified of scary things like no laugh track, plain actors (ie, look like real people) and subtle dialogue.

There has to be a soundtrack of people honking at every move, even if the real audience ain't laughing along with them, impossibly glitzy stars and the fine art of nuance stretched into convoluted explaining dialogue.

Recent cross-Atlantic failures include Coupling, Men Behaving Badly and Cold Feet. So when the suits at NBC turned their beady eyes on to the ghastly goings-on at the Slough office and boss David Brent, there was every reason to shudder.

The reaction to The Office remake, stateside, has been mixed since its late-March launch. Brent has become Michael Scott, played by Steve Carell, who has an honourable track record on Saturday Night Live. It's written by Greg Daniels, of the same SNL pedigree, as well as Seinfeld and The Simpsons.

The Office has become Dunder Mifflin, a paper supply company in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and Tim and Dawn are Jim and Pam. Pivotal character, the weasly contempt-magnet Gareth, is now Dwight, part-time volunteer at the sheriff's office.


There is no laugh track, and according to critics, Daniels has preserved The Office's squirm-making silences, tensions and delusions.

But do Americans get it? On debut night, it attracted 11.2 million viewers, a week later 5.9 million. Ironically, its biggest rival is House on the Fox Channel, starring a Brit who's hopped across the Atlantic, Hugh Laurie.

No, comedy does not translate well when it comes to crossing British humour over to the States. Hell, they can't even do good humour when they cross it over from New York to the west coast of the country. Evidence: Joey, one of the most tragic try-hards on air at the moment.

Matt Le Blanc was passable as the doofus Joey in Friends when it was set in New York and ran for what seemed like forever. There, he was buffered by the presence of the other five stars.

Now, with Joey transplanted alone to the bright light of Los Angeles, its a desperate vehicle for a man struggling for survival with an awful script no doubt written by a huge team. There's a laugh track, glitz (Drea De Matteo, who must be wishing she could call on Tony Soprano to do some terminating) and all the blue skies and palm trees LA has to offer. But it isn't funny.

This is funny, though. Ricky Gervais has just turned down a 5 million ($13.2 million) offer from the BBC - a golden handcuffs deal - because he doesn't want to be "the BBC's bitch".

He told Heat magazine such deals encouraged "laziness and extravagance ... they offer you loads of money to do it. But I don't need cash because luckily my DVDs sell loads. We have total freedom, that's worth 5 million to me".

Total freedom. Bet that's not a phrase bandied around too much in tellyland executive suites in the US of A.