Stoker’s Dracula (2004) #4

The issue ends with an afterword from Dick Giordano talking about finishing the Dracula adaptation thirty years after he and writer Roy Thomas started it. He confirms my suspicions they didn’t actually have it plotted out; rather, they did that work thirty years later. Or twenty-eight or whatever. Plus, it sounds like artist Giordano did a lot of the scene breakouts—it’s a Marvel book, after all—but also, no wonder the story’s got no pacing.

I can’t remember the last quarter of Dracula, the novel, but assuming the big events in this issue are correct, there’s not much Thomas is responsible for doing poorly. The fearless vampire hunters treating Mina as damaged, sinful goods? From the book. I do wonder if Van Helsing’s journal, written in awkward, stilted, but proper English, is from the novel or if Thomas paraphrased. When Van Helsing speaks, he jumbles his word order (a non-native speaker, he’s Dutch). It’s distracting.

Also distracting is white-haired Jonathan Harker (his wife was unfaithful, regardless of being brainwashed and mind controlled, his hair was bound to change). He gets the narrator seat a bit, and even though I’m only a few months delayed, his diary doesn’t sound like his diary at the beginning of the series.

I’d also forgotten how we were headed towards a terribly anti-climatic ending, which the comic does nothing to improve. Over-reliance on the narration, workman art from Giordano, stamp, done, move on to the next. The epilogue’s bewildering and, I suppose, where Thomas is most at fault. There must’ve been something better, maybe even something relevant.

The art’s okay. This new material is about getting through, not showing off. Almost everything is a montage sequence of some kind or another (with the narration tying the panels together). It doesn’t let Giordano work up any moment with the characters.

In the end, however, it’s not Thomas or Giordano’s fault Bram Stoker left the villain out of the last fifth of the story. It’s Giordano’s fault Van Helsing looks like a mischievous but not malevolent Keebler Elf, but whatever.

And the weird “follow the money” investigation the boys conduct is boring. They found Dracula thanks to accountancy.

Yawn.

I really wish they’d gotten to finish this back in the seventies. It’s cool they got to finish it thirty years later. But cool isn’t enough to make it succeed. Thomas and Giordano are just being too rote, especially for the finish.

Stoker’s Dracula (2004) #3

Stoker s Dracula 3

Like all faithful Bram Stoker’s Dracula adaptations, Stoker’s Dracula has hit the point where the source material’s bad writing is causing problems. Or, at least, lazy plotting. But it’s not writer Roy Thomas’s fault; it’s all on Stoker.

The most obvious example is someone screwing with Van Helsing’s plan to save Lucy’s soul. Last time it was Lucy’s mom, who died almost immediately following as a comeuppance; this time, it’s a maid. Thomas leaves in Van Helsing’s being super classist about the maid.

This issue is entirely “new” material. Artist Dick Giordano no longer draws Dracula exactly like he appeared in Tomb of Dracula, though sticks pretty close. He does not play up the Count’s gauntness, which makes it odd when multiple people comment on it. This issue’s got Jonathan and Mina seeing the Count in London and fairly soon getting involved with the vampire hunting plot.

There are numerous plotting conveniences straight from the novel. The boys exclude Mina so she can go and have an offscreen arc with Dracula as his steady victim, Mina not reading Jonathan’s journal until after they see Dracula, not to mention Jonathan not being able to tell Mina about his experiences and instead demanding she read the journal. She also types it up when she reads it, which, fortunately, we don’t see. Stoker’s Dracula leverages the finest in cheap mid-aughts computer lettering, including the horrendous newspapers. There are some notes and telegrams; they also look terrible and anachronistic, not just for the nineteenth-century setting but also with Giordano’s artwork. The “new” Stoker’s isn’t as, well, slutty as seventies Marvel black-and-white magazines, but it’s pretty bloody. Slick, barely better than Comics Sans lettering doesn’t fit.

Other weak sauce plotting includes Van Helsing’s trips back to Amsterdam to keep him away from the story, Jonathan’s boss dying off-page and leaving him the business, and numerous other recently deceased characters. The adaptation also draws attention to how little impact Dracula has on London, other than having turned Lucy into the “Bloofer Lady,” something Thomas rushes through. Unfortunately.

Given the adaptation’s previous success with Mina and Lucy and not with the boys, one would’ve hoped Thomas might stick closer to her. He does not. She’s off doing her own thing; no girls allowed. Thomas also doesn’t fix frequent narrator Jack Seward’s weird obsession with Lucy. It’s nowhere near as bad as before, but it is concerning when it comes back to start off the comic. This issue covers Jonathan and Mina in England, Lucy’s resurrection and destruction, and Dracula’s (romance-less) pursuit of Mina.

In a fun twist—I can’t remember if it’s from the novel—Dracula seems very aware he’s messing with his former victim’s new wife and taking delight in being that guy.

Stoker’s is an admirable exercise, but the new material isn’t as good as the old material. It’s not just thirty years taking its toll on the creators; it’s the novel getting into its muddy parts. Back in the seventies, they got stopped at just the right point before the book got too busy and messy.

I expect the last issue to be an entirely acceptable, entirely underwhelming read.

Stoker’s Dracula (2004) #2

Stoker s Dracula 2

Stoker’s Dracula collects and then continues Roy Thomas and Dick Giordano’s seventies novel adaptation, which ran in the black and white horror magazines, Dracula Lives! and Legion of Monsters. Thomas and Giordano only did six entries back then, and since they’ve only got one chapter of new material in this issue… they stopped before they were halfway done.

Fast forward thirty years, and Marvel gets them to finish it.

The cool part of this issue is it’s all the best material. The first issue would have Jonathan Harker getting to Castle Dracula and his discoveries there. This issue is all the England stuff, first from Mina’s perspective, then Seward’s, and now Lucy’s. Giordano excelled at the British Gothic material.

This issue also introduces the mixed media aspect of the novel. There are newspaper accounts, multiple diarists, and Seward’s monologue to his phonograph. Thomas and Giordano’s best work on the adaptation—as was—is in this issue.

So obviously, there are some differences thirty years on. The lettering is digital. Chris Eliopoulos. They lack the energy of the previous entries’ lettering. There are also some typeset newspaper reprints, which come off wrong, including a really bad “Lorem Ipsum” moment.

But the lettering disconnect is nothing compared to the Giordano art disconnect. While Dracula does look quite different than pages (and decades) before—not for the better–Giordano’s overall work is good. He can still do the Gothic good girl art, which is crucial since it’s mostly a Lucy issue.

There’s some hubbub with Seward, but he’s just a plot mechanism, just like all the characters. Thomas brings in Texan Quincy Morris, clean-shaven with sideburns like Giordano didn’t want to do too much work on him.

Giordano did put a lot of work into Stoker’s, but there’s a difference. He’s older and slicker—just like the letters—but the energy’s different. Stoker’s Dracula isn’t adapting the novel to fit Tomb of Dracula; it’s just adapting the novel to match what’s come before.

The new entry’s greatest success is giving Lucy—even temporarily—some agency. She doesn’t do much with it besides write in her diary, but her insight into her situation is very nice. Hopefully, Thomas will find someone else to have good instincts with going forward….

Luba (1998) #10

L10

@#$%& Beto!

I very deliberately emotionally steeled myself for Luba #10. Creator Beto Hernandez ended the last issue on such a one-two punch of cliffhangers (no pun), I knew I needed to be ready. Lots of stories were about to come to a head, lots of emotions.

And they do. Lots of stories do come to a head—Beto’s finishing business he started back in Love and Rockets, including Luba and Ofelia’s origin story arc, Poison River—and there are lots of emotions. But Beto’s got some surprises up his sleeve, and he saves the big one for halfway through the issue, at which point there’s so much emotional relief he’s got time to prime up for another one-two punch on the finale. And this time, there’s no “Continued…,” but a “The End.”

Much of the comic is about Luba, though often through her daughters’ perspective. She starts the issue visiting Pipo in the hospital—someone mugging Pipo and brutally beating her is one of the previous issue’s cliffhanger punches—and witnessing the peculiarities of Pipo’s storyline in the comic. For example, Luba’s sister Fritz arrives to console Pipo, who she’s dating, while Pipo’s son, Sergio, who used to date Fritz before Pipo seduced her away, stands in the back sullenly. Outside, Gato—Pipo’s ex-husband, now married to Luba’s daughter—waits for Sergio so they can go get shitfaced together. Pipo’s assault has given them a shared purpose, which we’ll discover later; it’ll be the largest non-Luba-related subplot.

The most significant unrelated subplot—early in the issue before Beto gives away the “twist”—is Venus and Hector going for a walk through a scary forest where there’s a stone marked Frankenstein. It’s a gentle aside with a bit of a bite thanks to Hector having an “ah-ha” moment (eureka, not Take on Me), lots of mood, and lots of personality. Luba’s trying to calm down a still hysterical Venus during the opening hospital visit—Venus’s crying started at the end of last issue when everyone found out about the cliffhangers—and it’s a good bit of character work while laying groundwork for later. Though it’s groundwork on groundwork, it turns out. Beto does a whole bunch in the last two pages of the issue.

Meanwhile, Luba’s feeling abandoned. Daughter Doralis is going to do televised charity work around the world, sister Fritz is going off to Hawaii with her (beard?) husband-to-be, not to mention Ofelia’s no longer going to be around to help. That particular absence convinces Luba’s estranged daughter Maricela to visit—not to make reconnect (Luba’s still super shitty about her gay kids being gay)—but to offer to take care of her youngest siblings. Something Luba’s husband, Khamo, doesn’t think is a bad idea. Without Ofelia around to even slightly referee, Luba’s arguments with Khamo get even more heated.

It’s a hell of an issue for Luba. Especially how much it takes place in her background reactions. She’s rarely the focus of talking heads panels; it’s her kids, her sisters, her friends, but so much plays out for her and from her.

And, obviously, Beto’s handling of the Ofelia stuff is extraordinary.

Luba started a tightly connected anthology, then became a loosely connected multi-chapter narrative, and Beto brings it all together for a complete piece in the end. He forecast the approach last issue when the separately titled strips all wove together, but this issue’s one of his greats.

There’s so much tragedy in the resolution but also so much hope. It’s a magnificent conclusion.

@#$%& Beto!

Paris (2005-2022)

Paris

The love story at the heart of Paris could take place anywhere. But it also can't take place anywhere but Paris. This collection emphasizes the Paris setting, with artist Simon Gane doing a new visual prologue of the city waking up. The birds are chirping, the lovers are waking (or already busy), and the city is vibrant and alive.

Paris collects a four-issue series, plus the prologue to the original collection, plus this new prologue. Gane does four double-page spreads moving through the city before a single page introducing the protagonist, Juliet. Though it helps if you know to look for her because Paris is full of life, full of people.

The next prologue (the original collection's prologue) follows Juliet on her way to school. She's in art school, drinks coffee, smokes cigarettes, and loves Paris. It also introduces her love interest, Deborah, having a very different experience in Paris. She's sequestered in Hotel Anglais, her maiden aunt chaperoning and programming their Parisian visit. It's just a couple-page introduction, Deborah looking longingly at the city she's missing, but the moment does a bunch to set her up.

The collection proper—issues as chapters—begins with Juliet in class, listening to her blowhard instructor, and getting a commission for a portrait painting. Juliet has to do portrait paintings of young ladies because fathers (and chaperones) don't want male artists staring long enough to paint. Andi Watson's script quickly sets up the ground situation (what's really impressive is how well Gane's able to transition from a relaxed, visual-first pace to rapid-fire exposition). Juliet's got a male friend at the art school, Gerard, who can't shut up about his jazz and mad crushes on her. She's from the United States (New York) and can't afford her tuition without the commissions. She lives with Paulette, a revolutionary who has to hand wash (and hang dry) all her lingerie at the apartment because they're too delicate for the laundromat.

Both Paulette and Gerard are French and speak a mix of French and English to Juliet. There's a translation guide at the end of the book, but it's mostly unnecessary. One might miss some occasional details, but they always come through either in English dialogue or thanks to visual references.

Juliet goes to the portrait sitting, assuming her subject, Deborah, will be the same terrible blue blood she's always painting. After Aunt Chapman (everyone calls her "Chap," which I thought meant chaperone until I realized her last name's Chapman) is a momentary pain before exiting, Juliet realizes Deborah isn't what she expected. One of the book's most delightful, subtle strokes is when Juliet reveals Deborah introduced herself as "Debs," even though that scene isn't on the page. There will be other subtle implications throughout, but none of them is so… charming.

The chapter ends with Juliet starting her sketches, well on her way to being smitten with her subject.

The portrait painting itself is Paris's main plot, at least from Juliet's perspective. Chap doesn't want to pay for another sitting, but Juliet can't capture Debs from photographs. So Juliet has to engineer ways to see Juliet, which leads to the two exploring Paris together and falling in love with the city. And each other.

The supporting cast expands a bit, with Debs's brother, Billy, joining her and Chap in Paris. His presence allows Juliet and Deborah to get some time together, though why exactly Billy's got time to fake chaperoning his sister will figure into the plot later. There's also Rennell, a potential suitor for Deborah, who's got nothing going for her if she doesn't marry well. Finally, there's Paulette's boyfriend, who doesn't get a name but has some really funny scenes.

The comic's going to leave Paris behind for the finale, which tracks Juliet and Deborah back to their "normal" settings, all the delight of Paris behind them. Except, of course, they then learn through unfortunate experience, some of what made Paris Paris was them, not the city. It's a great finale, with Gane getting back into the full-page city splash shots by the end. In the Paris sections of the comic (proper, so going back to the original series), Gane does these splash pages of Paris street life. Sometimes Juliet will be in them, on her way to find Deborah; sometimes, it'll just be street life. The movement's the same throughout, full of Gane's little observations about the people and the place. It's lovely. Especially considering it's the fifties or sixties, Deborah and Juliet's romance might not do so well on Long Island or in rural Surrey.

Paris is a gorgeous comic, with Gane doing phenomenal character work on its leads—much of Debs's character development comes through in expressions, for example—and Watson's script is outstanding.

Like I said, in addition to being expert and excellent, Paris is also profoundly lovely.

Masters of Horror (2005) s01e08 – Cigarette Burns

Did anyone read the script for Cigarette Burns before they started shooting? Udo Kier’s got a line about Norman Reedus following him, then Kier follows Reedus. Not to mention Reedus’s inability to open doors convincingly, much less regurgitate Drew McWeeny and Rebecca Swan’s startlingly insipid dialogue. It’s terrible when it’s Kier and Reedus delivering the lines, but it’s not truly godawful until Chris Gauthier shows up. Kier’s able to deliver terrible dialogue with no help from a director after decades of experience but watching Reedus and Gauthier try to hold a conversation with nothing but poorly written expository dialogue is something especially awful.

I’ve been avoiding Cigarette Burns for fifteen plus years, after hearing it was not a gem from director John Carpenter, but it’s not just a bad Carpenter outing… it’s a new low for him. He’s got a cinematographer—Attila Szalay—who can’t hold focus, he’s got an incompetent editor (Patrick McMahon), though I guess at least he was able to get his son Cody a gig doing the music. And the music’s the only thing not entirely terrible. Because even if Szalay’s lighting were all right—and the shots in focus—Carpenter’s composition is at best disinterested. He’s shooting for a 16:9 frame and has no idea how to compose the shots to make them interesting; it’s not just disappointing, it’s embarrassing to watch. If ever someone needed Alan Smithee….

Reedus is a revival movie theatre owner who’s going to hunt down a mythic lost film for Kier. How mythic? So mythic Kier’s got a de-winged angel who starred in it held captive, which doesn’t bug Reedus at all. He needs the money to pay off his dead girlfriend’s dad, Gary Hetherington. Zara Taylor plays the dead girlfriend in flashbacks. Presumably she got cast because they wanted someone who’d make Reedus look like an okay actor.

Hetherington’s terrible too. It ought to be a gimme of a small part, something any working actor could execute (and a great cameo spot for a Carpenter regular, though it’d just be humiliating for them too). It becomes obvious very soon into Cigarette Burns, it’s never getting better and it’s got a long way to go to hit bottom.

Is all of “Masters of Horror” so terrible? Cigarette Burns isn’t an encouragement to check out other Carpenter movies—quite the opposite—and it isn’t a celebration of his career (it’s McWeeny and Swan doing a worse-than-expected Kevin Smith does horror). But it’s also not like Carpenter’s trying with the script. There’d be some effort in the composition, the blocking would be better, Reedus might be able to open a door believably, every muddled frame of Cigarette Burns is another item on the list of its defects and incompetencies.

I wasn’t expecting Cigarette Burns to be any actual good, but I wasn’t expecting it to be worse than Carpenter’s previous lows by so much. Maybe they should’ve gotten someone to direct it who wanted to direct it (or anything). There’s not much missed opportunity in Cigarette Burns—the script’s garbage—but someone else might have some interest or enthusiasm for it.

Other than getting your kid a job.

I’m so glad I didn’t watch it at the time, when the disappointment (before it was for sure Carpenter was retired) would have be much more severe.

West Coast Blues (2005)

Streets Of Paris, Streets Of Murder: The Complete Graphic Noir Of Machette & Tardi Vol. 1

I’m not sure how much more you get out of West Coast Blues if you know all the music references—I know all the movie references and it doesn’t really add anything except being able to contextualize the story as a noir piece, which isn’t particularly necessary. Like, it comes across real easy, even if you don’t think about Blues being some kind of Sam Fuller or Anthony Mann movie. But maybe the music would provide a different kind of accompaniment, especially since the script’s constantly referencing not just the music the protagonist is playing but also the importance of it.

Tardi adapted a Jean-Patrick Manchette novel for the story and I feel comfortable assuming most of the exposition boxes came from the novel (Kim Thompson then translated from French to English so there’s a whole other layer); Blues is very talking in the exposition. There’s also this implication of narrator as character at one point and it never comes through again, which is a little disappointing because otherwise it’s just… a lot of exposition. Lists of things, lots of contextualizing but not really—the big questions involving the protagonist just get shrugged off. He’s just a man doing man things, like abandoning his family and so on.

The comic opens with a bookend—which is a little more implied than clear because of the tenses in the narration–protagonist George is driving home late one night after getting boozed up because he hates his job as a middle manager so what else is he going to do. A car crashes in front of him and he takes the driver to the hospital, thinking nothing of it. When he gets home to his wife, she thinks he should’ve stayed and at least given his name but why bother. The wife puts up with a lot of shit from George, who’s deserving of various sympathies throughout Blues but is such a dick extending said sympathies comes with some guilt over it. He’s a dick, but at least he’s not a murderous dick.

Though, the narration tells us, he’s going to kill two men. But first they’re going to try to kill him, giving the narration a countdown—and Blues a very easily delineated Freytag.

While on vacation with his family—wife, two kids, no pets—two bad guys try to kill George and he runs back to Paris (without telling his wife) and gets a gun from a pal to defend himself. Now, we never find out his plan because the action mostly centers on the pursuing hitmen. They’re a couple, though one of them still likes to rape women, which is going to be important in the just as easily delineated third act. Before then, however, George is going to end up lost in the wilderness and finding the almost blind woodsman. It’s a long term Frankenstein for the woodsman, but it eventually goes that route, albeit unpredictably, before George finally has to confront the main villain.

Tardi’s got a great pace, especially for seventy-some pages, though it often feels like he’s rushing through potentially better moments. George doesn’t much in the way of personality, especially when he’s alone, so the scenes with other people are a lot more interesting but there aren’t many of them. He’s always driving by himself—whether existentially moping or lambing it from the hitmen—or walking by himself or hanging around the blind woodsman who doesn’t want to talk and so on. Tardi is able to find some good comedic moments, but—again—it’s because George has someone to play off.

Why’s George such a limp protagonist—is it Manchette’s fault or Tardi’s—you’d probably have to read the source novel and… eh. West Coast Blues doesn’t inspire that interest. Particularly not since Tardi’s art, even realizing a mediocre story, is the obvious draw. Maybe if you’re going to try to unpack the toxic masculinity you’d want to be familiar with the source but there’s not really any sign it’d be worth going through those boxes. Despite its attempts to haunt, Blues most definitely does not. The denouement is particularly pat.

But, still, far from bad. Though not where you’d want to start with Tardi.

Extras (2005) s01e04 – Les Dennis

The episode starts with Ricky Gervais visiting agent Stephen Merchant—who may or may not have a new hair cut, which may or may not be silly—and then they go off to a theater to get Gervais a proper acting job. Well, the genie in a production of “Aladdin.” But he’s got lines.

There’s a lot of jokes at Gervais’s expense about his weight and appearance. Not so much about his acting ability, which the show has until this point implied is shitty. They meet Les Dennis, who’s a British TV host and standup comic or something. Apparently it’s odd episodes where Gervais is trying to target non-British audiences, even ones where it’s UK-only.

I mean, when “Extras” aired in 2006 or whatever… there was barely even YouTube. How would you find out about Les Dennis? Left with the show’s impression of him he’s a very sad guy who’s dating a younger woman, Nicky Ladanowski, who’s going to take him for his money. He’s not funny anymore and he whines a lot. The episode is about fifteen minutes of him whining to Gervais, whose character has become downright cuddly by episode four. Gone are most of his previous obnoxious traits.

He does still make fun of Ashley Jensen for not being smart, but it’s pretty much just that one joke. The rest of the time he’s just listening to the whining. Meanwhile, Jensen—who doesn’t appear for so long into the episode I had started panicking she wouldn’t appear; the prospect of “Extras” without her is a daunting one—anyway, she’s got a subplot with Rebecca Gethings and Gerard Kelly. Gethings is one of the dancers, Kelly is her dad and the “Aladdin” producer. He’s gay—Gervais and Jensen are sure—but he’s got a daughter and they don’t understand.

Instead of it being he’s bi or something, it turns out he’s long in the closet with a suffering wife at home and so on. But, you know, it’s funny.

Because Jensen goes to a party at the house and very strange hijinks.

There’s a level of competency to the episode but it’s not very good. Even for “Extras.”

Extras (2005) s01e03 – Kate Winslet

I can’t imagine Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant had to take notes “Extras” but thankfully some little angel plopped between their shoulders and whispered the right things in their ears for some course correction.

No more is Ashley Jensen marriage and man hungry, now she’s got a regular man, John Kirk. So then Jensen’s subplot instead gets to be she’s not into talking dirty on the phone, which Kirk expects from his ladies, so of course she’s fretting about it because despite being a regular she’s got no character.

Neither does Ricky Gervais, so it’s not like the show’s playing favorites. Merchant’s agent is back. He’s got so little character that lack of character is part of the joke.

Merchant’s pretty funny though.

And Gervais.

Gervais and Merchant also seem to have realized by giving most of the extreme stuff to the guest star—in this episode, Kate Winslet—they get to make Gervais more sympathetic and the celebrity seem even less like a rational human being. Albeit a hilarious less than rational human being. Because Winslet’s fantastic. Just superb. She’s a foul-mouthed, foul-minded, racist bigot who doesn’t learn from any of her mistakes, which somehow makes her less than Gervais in the end.

There’s a subplot involving actress Charlotte Palmer, who Gervais is interested in… romantically. Gervais’s character having any romantic interests whatsoever is kind of new so… whatever. It’s funny. Especially since she’s a Catholic and he’s an atheist.

But then it turns out her sister, Francesca Martinez, has cerebral palsy, which means Gervais is of course going to make fun of her. To her sister. And it’s not going to go well.

The show plays a little loose with one of its punchlines, dragging it out for effect when it doesn’t make any sense as far as the character. Gervais has a pretty solid scene in a Catholic prayer group where they slowly realize he’s an unbeliever.

What’s weird about the atheism subplot is Gervais comes off as a prick about it. Gervais is, off-screen, a somewhat prominent atheist. It’s like he wanted to double-down on mansplained atheism or something.

Still. Really funny stuff. Good for easy, privileged belly laughs.

Extras (2005) s01e02 – Ross Kemp & Vinnie Jones

This episode introduces co-creator, co-writer, and co-director Stephen Merchant in an acting role, presumably a regular. He’s Ricky Gervais’s agent. Gervais is mad because he can get any parts whereas Merchant is mad Gervais can’t get any parts; no one wants Gervais is the idea. Certainly not on the movie he’s working on, a period piece starring Ross Kemp.

Who’s Ross Kemp? He’s a British TV action star, which is apparently a category of acting pursuit….

Gervais sucks up to Kemp, who’s fixated on his ability to beat up other men. He wants to be a real-life “hard man,” like Vinnie Jones, who was a footballer, and is filming a movie across the alley.

Shaun Pye, who I thought was the best thing in the show last episode for his thirty second opening scene, is back again with a lot more to do. And he’s definitely the best thing. Because Gervais’s character is too ill-defined when it comes to his experience of the absurdity around him. It initially appears he’s above the movie star nonsense, but then it seems like he’s abjectly credulous, which puts him below it, making it less about a commentary and more about positioning the show for laughs from punching up and down.

For example, Ashley Jensen’s subplot. She’s man-hungry once again and sets her sights on actor Raymond Coulthard. Their entire arc involves Jensen thinking she’s too stupid for posh Coulthard and Coulthard being the perfect guy… until just the right moment to wound Jensen the most. It’s a thing to do I guess. Not really a flex just… a waste of Jensen’s time and everyone else’s.

Coulthard played young Scrooge in Muppet Christmas Carol, in case you’re having trouble placing him.

It’s got some okay laughs but not very many. It’s nowhere near as funny as last episode, not even once Gervais fumbles his way into escalating tensions with Jones (on Kemp’s behalf).

Clearly the guest stars matter.