TV review: Mouth to Mouth | Miranda

Published on Monday 23 November 2009 20:26

ALTHOUGH writer Karl Minns would doubtless blanch at the comparison, it was hard to banish the spectre of Alan Bennett's peerless Talking Heads while watching Mouth to Mouth, a new series of monologues set in modern-day Britain. But whereas Bennett cleverly drew viewers into the inner lives of his subtly-drawn characters, Minns' approach was far more straightforward and upfront.

Also, Bennett understood that the core requirement of a monologue is that it should be delivered by one person, whereas Minns seems wary of the form, and keeps cutting away to other characters, proving once again that BBC3 has little faith in the attention span of its under-35 demographic.

Gone, clearly, are the days when an audience was trusted with the ability to immerse themselves in a studio-bound monologue from Thora Hird as a housebound pensioner. Like so much modern television, Mouth to Mouth is too jumpy, too restless to fully engage the brain. It's a shame, because Minns obviously has some talent. Although his quasi-monologues lack subtlety and depth, at least he's bothered to cram them with as many jokes as possible, some of which are even quite amusing.

The opening double-bill introduced us to Mouth to Mouth's six interconnected twentysomethings, in particular pop-star wannabe Meeshell (Anna Nightingale) and her long-suffering boyfriend Tyler (Alex Price). Meeshell was obviously intended as an air-headed emblem of the celebrity age, with Tyler – a failed DJ – its frustrated, neurotic underside. Nightingale and Price were both excellent as two fatally mismatched lovers bound by self-interest, desperation and guilt. "I love her," sighed Tyler, from behind the counter of his detested phone shop, "like Dickens loved novelty ring-tones".

Yet despite some nice touches, the device of examining the same relationship from two different perspectives didn't work as cleverly as it could have, and Minns' sudden stabs at pathos seemed forced. Yet Mouth to Mouth isn't a complete failure by any means. At the very least, it's quite nice to see BBC3 trying something different, even if that does mean merely hijacking a proven storytelling technique and executing it in an off-puttingly compromised fashion. Anyway, jokes at the expense of singing beauticians are all very well, but who among us wouldn't rather spend time with Dame Thora complaining about that cream cracker under the settee?

Following eye-catching supporting roles in the unfairly-decommissioned sitcom Not Going Out and the unfairly-commissioned-at-all Hyperdrive, comedian Miranda Hart has emerged as a sitcom star in her own right with Miranda. Showcasing her winning combination of whimsy, pratfalls and goofy self-deprecation, it's a pleasingly silly vehicle in which she stars as the scatterbrained proprietor of a joke shop. Like most tailor-made sitcoms (Hart also writes), its skeletal premise is merely a springboard for the star to unleash their patented schtick. And there's nowt wrong with that.

So, the latest episode featured Miranda going to the gym (cue expected, yet amusing, physical gags with runaway exercise machines) and attending a job interview, during which she panicked and performed The Greatest Love of All in its entirety.

Like Frankie Howerd, she breaks the fourth wall, admonishes the audience, and generally gets by on exuberance and sheer likeability. It even ends with the cast waving at the camera as the audience cheers, which is as it should be. Charming really.