Penelope Wilton

Ricky Gervais is, take your pick, ever reinventive (a la Madonna, Lady Gaga, the royals) or ever mutating (the worst kind of spirally viruses, the royals). A year ago, in Tony Johnson, subject of his latest drama, After Life, he combined aspects of past characters: The Office's gloriously unself-aware Brent; the more savvy Andy Millman in Extras; the saccharine platitudes that sat so ill in Derek alongside gags about mental health or other disabilities. After Life was a surprising runaway hit on Netflix, for an arguably slight comedy about a very singular, small-town man's depression after the loss of his wife, and how an angry man learned to be kind again.

I happen to like Gervais. Many don't. I relish his takes on some complex aspects of life - freedom of speech, organised religion, disorganised religion of the variety that tends to revere big lumps of rock or small ones of crystal, people who describe themselves as "people people". I like his loyalty to actors, although with such talents as Kerry Godliman and Ashley Jensen around it's surely not hard. And Gervais, bless, has done it again - same local paper, staffed by the soft of brain and low of self-esteem, same gallery of township grotesques, same lonely flat occupied by lovely dog Brandy and many long nights of the soul, pills to hand and large glass of red and videos of his late Lisa.

And I think I see what he's trying to do with the formula. To show how every single one of life's travails, when it angers one inordinately, can be surmounted, no matter one's grief, by a half-sigh of tolerance, of kindness - as long as the sugar is intercut with Gervais showing how mean he, and life, can be.

Part of the problem with this six-part second series is the scatological glee with which he hugs these acid segments. So it's not enough to have a cartoonishly unempathetic therapist; Paul Kaye has to make Chris Finch (The Office's rampant misogynist) look achingly woke. Not enough to have am-dram spoiled by a fat kid farting - he has to soil himself on stage. And, no matter that the arc of this second series is ultimately rewarding, hugely if quietly aided by the likes of Penelope Wilton and Diana Morgan - I'm just not sure whether this second journey is worth the lack of laughs it takes to get there. Because it is, indeed, just less funny. And if the message is the only thing, never mind the laughs crude or otherwise, I'm not sure whether it's worth the saying.

Review: After Life season two, Netflix

There is certainly a lot going on in series two. This series overview barely scratches the surface and there are some crucial details we haven't revealed. Does it surpass the first series? I'm not sure. That made such an impact it was always going to be hard to beat. But there is no doubt that this sequel will grab you from the very start and keep you grabbed until the very end.

After Life Series 2 review

Given he's known for brutally direct stand-up, it's little surprise that Ricky Gervais doesn't do subtext.

After Life season 2 review

Ricky Gervais should have left it as a limited series.

After Life is the latest offering from Ricky Gervais, where he plays widower Tony, a man corroded by grief (staying alive only to feed his dog) who decides to be as obnoxious as he likes and then kill himself, behaviour that he thinks is "like a superpower."

The cast includes Penelope Wilton as a widow, Diane Morgan as Tony's gobby co-worker, and Paul Kaye as a self-satisfied therapist. Apart from videos left by Tony's late wife (a touching Kerry Godliman), the heart is mainly provided by Ashley Jensen as a care-home worker looking after Tony's dad (David Bradley), and Mandeep Dhillon's rookie journalist at the local newspaper where Tony works.

The problem is the wildly swerving tone - from obnoxious to sentimental to caustic to maudlin to pointlessly vile. At one point Tony helps a junkie (Tim Plester) buy enough drugs to kill himself. Ho and ho. This just won't cut it as edgy comedy in the era of Succession, Russian Doll and so much more. After Life worked better during the running joke featuring Tony covering hopeless local stories, such as a boy playing recorders with his nostrils: "Why would people rather be famous for being shit than not famous at all?" This is Gervais's true superpower - as a carping, eye-rolling everyman.

TV review: After Life

Ricky Gervais has completely shaken up our perceptions of what he is capable of with his latest series After Life, showing how this comic can do heart-breaking as well as hilarious.

After Life review

Ricky Gervais' touching look at grief and the people left behind.

After Life, Netflix, review

Gervais' character is the embodiment of socially awkward misanthropy, but also a believable portrait of a man consumed by grief.

Review: Gervais gets spiny & squishy in After Life

Like its snarky hero, After Life is essentially good-hearted.

Review: After Life, Netflix

What is the new six-part Netflix series from Ricky Gervais? After Life is certainly funny but it is no sitcom. There is too much going on here that isn't funny to file it snugly under that genre. It's not that safety net catch-all "comedy drama" either though. It's something totally unique. And it deserves a category of its own.