For as long as I can remember, I have been crazy about cars. Researching into all of the obscure details and performance figures of the latest four-wheeled offerings from Europe’s top marques has long been an intense interest of mine. Unfortunately, like most deep fascinations, one of the defining features of being a car-nut is the feeling of isolation. Finding someone who has both the patience and knowledge to hold an extended conversation with me about cars almost always seemed like the social equivalent of striking gold in my own backyard. That sense of solitude, however, is starting to fade very rapidly – and for that I owe much gratitude to the BBC program Top Gear.

For those who have no idea what I am talking about, allow me a moment to explain. Top Gear has been around for many years as both a TV show (produced in the UK) and affiliated magazine. Over the past five years it has managed to develop what is a unique and highly successful formula by effectively re-casting itself as an entertainment show centred around car culture, rather than holding onto what was a niche appeal for outright enthusiasts like myself. The show (which is currently hosted by the somewhat self-righteous and highly-opinionated Jeremy Clarkson, James May and the recently recovered Richard Hammond) is still dedicated to cars – each program features a new car test of some sort, a celebrity interview, and several other one-off features – but it has managed to find something ‘new’ in a fairly tired formula.

Although Australia (where I live) can lay claim to a fairly robust car culture, car television in this country has almost chronically failed as a genre – if in fact it is a ‘genre’ – for reasons that are seemingly too numerous to get into here. Top Gear, however, is the first television show in many years to screen in prime-time, and seems to have genuinely sparked an interest in an otherwise car-weary Australian public. The reasons for this success, I enthusiastically argue, are that the show presents its rather specialized subject matter in a way that a much wider section of the general public can understand and, perhaps most importantly, enjoy. It is a generally unconventional approach to cars and therefore manages to appeal to a much more diverse audience than what it once did.

So, rather than explain how fast and nimble the Lotus Exige is, Clarkson showed how fast it can go by trying to evade missile-lock from an Apache helicopter flying overhead. Rather than discussing a Range Rover (a fairly sedate vehicle at the best of times) in terms of its technical ability to find traction on uneven surfaces, Clarkson simply had to try and hide from an army tank over a hill-strewn training ground. Instead of talking endlessly about the new Toyota Aygo’s maneuverability, the Top Gear crew instead decided to host a football (soccer) match using the cars – most of which were driven by stunt drivers in two teams – to punt a giant inflatable football around a bitumen pitch. Replete with collisions, spins, fouls, amazing driving skills and a last-gasp winning goal, I really cannot imagine a more engaging, exciting and fun way of reviewing a cheap, mass-produced (that is, ordinarily deathly-dull) city runabout.

Equally important to mention here too is the fact that Top Gear rarely assumes a high level of audience knowledge; the hosts seem acutely aware that they have a responsibility not only to audience knowledge, but also to audience interest. So if, for example, Richard Hammond mentions a horsepower figure, he usually makes some attempt to put that figure into perspective. Rather than talking about a car’s low level of torsional rigidity, Jeremy will instead explain how ‘floppy’ it feels, or at least offer some sort of easily-digestible analogy to explain why that trait is a problem in a sports car. On one occasion, rather than lecturing their audience about being cautious at level crossings, the Top Gear team instead decided to just go ahead and demonstrate their potential dangers by crashing a speeding train into a second-hand Renault Espace.^[1] Sure, the stunt may have been executed primarily because it makes for spectacular viewing rather than for some genuine public safety purpose, but the idea that something can’t be both exciting and informative at the same time is surely one that has outlived its brief period of relevance.

Of course, one could argue that Top Gear represents nothing more than a diluted, lowest-common-denominator treatment of motoring – and, in many ways that claim has some purchase, although I would dare not argue that it should or could appeal to all tastes – but I genuinely think we should look past that to see that it is doing something very interesting. It is, perhaps for the first time, bringing cars to the people rather than trying desperately to do things the opposite way around. All together, this means that a fanatic such as myself can find this show very fascinating, but so too would someone who knows very little about cars and the car industry. As I noted earlier in this article, finding someone with whom I can have an extended conversation about, for instance, my ‘dream garage’ – that is, what cars you would go out and buy with $1 million – was always next to impossible, but I now find myself having these kinds of conversation at the most unlikely times with the most unlikely of people. It really is amazing to think that a large number of people (certainly many more than I can remember) now understand why a Mercedes CLS55 is far more exciting than an Audi S6, realise what the ‘power’ button in a BMW M5 does to its engine, or know how many cylinders and turbochargers a Bugatti Veyron is endowed with (16 and four respectively, if you’re asking). Similar to what MythBusters has done for scientific inquiry, Top Gear proves that dreary subjects can actually resonate far better with the viewing public when they are approached in unconventional ways.

As a media researcher and someone who has seen first-hand the effect Top Gear has had on my fellow Australians, all of this makes me question weather this show’s ethos could translate into other domains. I wonder: would it be possible to apply the Top Gear ‘attitude’ to the world of Politics? Could the legions of TV journalists who deal in a subject that so many people find sleep-inducing learn a few lessons from this program? Of course, even as I write this I am all too conscious of just how crazy a concept that would seem, but I don’t think that it is entirely out of the realms of possibility. Sure, it may be hard to compare politicians themselves to the ‘sex-appeal’ of a Ferrari F430 going flat-out on a race circuit, but I am fairly sure there were people who once said that TV shows about cars could never appeal to ‘the masses’ either.

Perhaps Michael Moore^[2] was thinking along similar lines when he offered the following anecdote in his much-derided and much-lauded book, Stupid White Men:

“I once heard the linguist and political writer Noam Chomsky say that if you want proof that the American people aren’t stupid, just turn on any sports talk radio show and listen to the incredible retention of facts. It is amazing – and it’s proof that the American mind is alive and well. It just isn’t challenged with anything interesting or exciting. Our challenge, Chomsky said, was to find a way to make politics as gripping and engaging as sports. When we do that, watch how Americans will do nothing but talk about who did what to whom at the WTO.”^[3]

Of course, I am not sure what a political TV show inspired by Top Gear would do or look like exactly, but this really is not the central concern of my argument here – the more fundamental question is over who exactly might watch such a show. Because I am just as much of a political junkie as a car-nut, I am sure that I would be among the first to tune in, but so too, I suspect, would a whole bunch of people who currently care as much for political television as they once did for shows about cars.

Notes:
[1] This show has recently developed a fascination for doing strange things to used cars. This may have reached its zenith recently when a Reliant Robin was attached to a giant (amateur-built) rocket in an attempt to mimic the Space Shuttle.
[2] Michael Moore himself has already treated politics in new and interesting ways (in, for example, his TV show The Awful Truth, or his film Fahrenheit 9/11), though I wonder if his polarising nature may be equally problematic – that he may be ‘preaching to the converted’, as it were. Perhaps the readers of Flow might like to offer their own opinions on this matter.
[3] Moore, Michael (2001) Stupid White Men. London: Penguin, p. 86.

Image Credits:

1. Top Gear, series 1, episode 7

2. The Daily Mail

3. Top Gear, series 6, episode 1

4. Top Gear, series 9, episode 5

5. Top Gear, series 6, episide 8

Please feel free to comment.

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By any measure, The Office (and I talk here about the original, British version) has been an immense success. The show that – discounting two Christmas specials from 2003 – ran over just 12 half-hour episodes¹ picked up two Golden Globes, six BAFTA awards, spawned an American version (starring Steve Carrell) and made Ricky Gervais, the show's co-writer, co-director² and lead actor white-hot property in the world of television. Commercial success aside, the show – which centres around the trials and tribulations of the Slough branch of Wernham Hogg (paper merchants), lead by the hapless regional manager David Brent (Gervais) – has had an amazing impact on popular culture. Perhaps partially due to strong DVD sales which now provide a longevity for television series that they may otherwise have never enjoyed (I've never actually watched a broadcast episode of The Office), the show has been one of the most popular British television programs of the last decade.

But what is all the fuss about? What is it that made the show so good in the first place? It has been written about endlessly by media pundits, but, even then, attempts to actually explain what makes The Office really great have been few if any. On this point though, I wish to start making up some lost ground, and examine a few moments from the last 10 minutes of the show's finale.

The final episode of The Office is the second of two specials originally broadcast over Christmas 2003.³ In the last ten minutes of the show, we pick up with the employees of the Slough branch of Wernam Hogg in the midst of the workplace Christmas party where former receptionist Dawn – who is about to return to the United Sates where she now lives an un-glamorous life with her fiancée Lee – is trying to say goodbye to Tim: the man with whom she spent two series mired in sexual tension. Here we truly feel the pain that moment holds. How do you say goodbye (we presume, forever) to someone you can't express feelings for? The nervousness of both sees them say very little and make strained attempts to ignore the elephant in the room that is their mutual admiration, choosing instead to say goodbye as if they were mere colleagues. Tim opts not to make a grand gesture of love, and instead chooses to avoid the possibility of embarrassment and lets Dawn walk out of his life with a man who does not appreciate her. As the audience, we are so aware of how difficult it is for them both, but this is so subtly portrayed in the two characters. Although the show is a sitcom, this moment is a comedic desert, and is actually very 'real' and believable, mainly because Tim and Dawn (like most normal people in emotional situations) try desperately to pretend there is, in fact, nothing to get emotional about.

Meanwhile, David has brought to the party a blind date, Carol, who is simultaneously beautiful, intelligent and, unlike his previous blind dates, actually interested in him. And, for the first time, well, ever, as far as the audience is aware, David does not say something stupid to mess everything up. Throughout the show, David's completely terrible management and awful, unsuccessful attempts to be a popular leader are certainly the key source of comedy. He says and does some truly awful things, and yet the twist is that one really cannot help but develop feelings of pity for the man. Throughout the show you're kind of left hoping that something might finally work out for the guy – and, with Carol, something finally does. In a conversation with her he is, perhaps for the first time, open about his own failures, saying to Carol that he is not doing very well in his career and is embarrassed by the way he is treated. It is as though progressive lull in his life has required him to finally be emotionally honest with others and is, at last, getting some admiration from a female for exactly this. This demonstrates so beautifully one key characteristic of the human condition: that so often we get what we're looking for only once we stop trying desperately to find it.

Now speeding away from the man she really adores in a cab with her drunk, semi-conscious fiancée sitting in the front seat, Dawn opens a Christmas present from Tim [I won't spoil completely everything for those who haven't seen it by revealing what it is], and begins to cry.

Returning to the party after seeing Carol off in a cab, David comes across his boss (from the second series) Neil, and 'best mate' Chris Finch. Throughout the show, 'Finchy' is held up in awe by David because he thinks he is so smart, so funny and can drink like a fish. He is really everything David wants to be, but isn't. In reality David – who dramatically overestimates his success in life – and his inability to openly acknowledge (let alone laugh at) his weaknesses and mistakes seems to be a hilariously awkward façade, behind which is a man who is painfully self-aware. He is like the class-clown in school – the source of much laughter, but also pity, because everyone knows he will never get what he really craves: respect. This lack of respect for the man shows as Chris makes a joke about Carol, insinuating that she is ugly. Suddenly though, something changes. At long last David realises he doesn't have to look up to a guy who has continually laughed back at him, and now responds to Chris' joke with a marvelously delivered '… why don't you f–k off'.

The final stirring moment of the show comes as Dawn returns to the party. Without any fuss, or even a spoken word, she approaches Tim and kisses him. In typical Office style, Gareth (Tim's perpetually-annoying co-worker) interrupts them by blurting: “careful, she's got a fiancée”… This moment was seemingly forever in the making and is long overdue for the waiting audience, and yet its flaws – i.e. Gareth's interruption – make the moment more genuine, and more realistic, rather than take any gloss off it.

I think that The Office is an extraordinary comedy series because it acknowledges the fact that real humour most often comes at unexpected moments, in the most mundane situations. The moments in real life that make us hurt with laughter are regularly unintentional, and seldom come from a precisely-delivered one-liner. That's what makes this show very good. What makes this 10 Minutes of television truly great though, and what sets it apart from other comedies (and the reason I haven't spent much time discussing humour here) is its ability to deftly mix comedy with such human emotion. However over-the-top some of these characters may be, they act, react and experience emotions in a way most real people do: and for this they're believable. I think this is indicative of The Office's success overall, because it so brilliantly reminds us that so often in real life, genuinely funny moments aren't a result of perfectly-timed jokes, that authentic, heartfelt romance is unspoken and comes without fanfare, and that we feel for people most when they are deeply flawed – and not just in an Ally McBeal sort of way. For me, this 10 minutes of television is about as good as it gets.

Notes
1. Interestingly, another much-celebrated British sitcom Fawlty Towers, also ran for just 12 episodes.

2. Stephen Merchant (who plays the role of Darren Lamb alongside Gervais in their new show Extras) was co-director and co-writer of The Office.

3. These two episodes were stylistically quite distinct, in that they are far more self-referential as mockumentaries (or at least, textually self-aware).

Image Credits:
1. The cast of The Office
2. Tim and Dawn
3. David Brent (Ricky Gervais)
4. Gareth watches on as Dawn kisses Tim

Please feel free to comment.