Peter Capaldi

Peter Capaldi interview

"I like Malcolm Tucker very much. He's got a heart of gold and he's only trying to do his job; it's not his fault that he's confronted by an army of idiots"

Peter Capaldi's mock documentary revisits the titular, long-forgotten - oh, all right, completely made-up - north London film studios, responsible for such classic films as Clog Capers of 1932 and Breasts of the Vampire. Profiling a fictional organisation that was equal parts Ealing, Hammer, Gainsborough, Handmade Films and Carry On, it's a richly imagined, brilliantly executed and very funny alternate history. Played entirely straight - essential for any great spoof - the film clips are as beautifully realised as the also the documentary itself, an affectionate take on a certain sort of factual filmmaking, infused with the passion and occasional pomposity that characterises it, from self-important opening narration to the over-extended closing montage - soundtracked, inevitably, by Coldplay's Fix You. A Terry Gilliam cameo is merely the final treat in a wonderful pilot that simply demands a full commission.

Radio Times review

Peter Capaldi plays it straight as a film buff and devotee of the now defunct Cricklewood Studios. Pure fiction, of course, but pinning spoofs of cheap British movies and even cheaper British movie stars onto a made-up studio lets Capaldi and co-writer Tony Roche have some arch fun.

Capaldi presents this "documentary" celebrating the output of his beloved Cricklewood Studios (now a DIY superstore). He recalls Florrie Fontaine (Lindsay Marshal), a terrifyingly cheerful Gracie Fields-type singer whose career died when she became friendly with Nazi high command: "I speak as I find, and they were grand company."

Watch out for Hustle's Kelly Adams as a Barbara Windsor-ish bimbette, star of the Thumbs Up series. But the show is stolen by Terry Gilliam, playing himself, a profligate director who brought the studio to its knees.

Cricklewood Greats, BBC Four, review

Isabel Mohan reviews Cricklewood Greats, The Thick of It's Peter Capaldi's spoof documentary on BBC Four.

I didn't do a lot of laughing during Peter Capaldi's Cricklewood Greats (BBC4, Sunday). This may be because this kind of spoof documentary is rarely funny. Or because what is being sent up here - a particularly kind of reverential documentary - isn't enough of a phenomenon for most people to merit the ridicule. Or because acting (at which Capaldi is obviously brilliant) and writing are very different skills. Or a combination of all of the above. But I'm afraid it left me cold.

I love a spoof documentary, me. Not, you understand, of the nonsensical Life's Too Short variety, but rather those spot-on parodies of pop culture epochs such as Eric Idle's magnificent Beatles spoof, The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash, and Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse's criminally underrated Smashie and Nicey: End of an Era.

As well as being packed with exquisite gags, those mock-docs worked so beautifully because of their loving attention to detail, proving that the very best parodies are made by those who know their subject inside out. And while Peter Capaldi's the Cricklewood Greats doesn't quite reach such giddy heights, it certainly delivers in terms of affectionate irreverence and the care with which it's made.

Charting the wavering fortunes of a fictional British film studio - think Ealing by way of Hammer, and all stops in between - it functions not only as an impressively realised parody of the average BBC 4 entertainment documentary, but also of those insight-free films in which a celebrity hijacks an interesting subject in pursuit of their own meaningless "personal journey."

Written in conjunction with his The Thick Of It cohort Tony Roche - who also penned BBC 4's splendid Python biopic, Holy Flying Circus - Capaldi directs and also stars as himself, paying overly-reverential tribute to the ghosts of the Cricklewood dream factory, including thinly disguised versions of Gracie Fields, Peter Cushing and Kenneth Williams (the acutely observed pastiches of his withering diary entries are a particular highlight).

No "tears behind the laughter" cliché is left unturned in this modest treat for connoisseurs of archive film and television, which, although merely amusing rather than hilarious, is still witty and charming and thoroughly commendable.

Peter Capaldi on his new foray into gentle comedy

Foul-mouthed Malcolm Tucker has allowed his creator to explore his range of talents on film, TV, and stage.

Peter Capaldi on Cricklewood Greats, interview

The Thick of It's Peter Capaldi tells Jasper Rees about his spoof documentary for BBC Four on the early British film industry.

Peter Capaldi is best known as splenetic spin doctor Malcolm Tucker in peerless political satire The Thick Of It. But he's a man of many talents, as he shows to full effect in this subtle spoof documentary, which sees him triple up as writer, director and presenter. It's film buff heaven; the tale of a now-defunct British movie studio, making room for classy cameos from Lyndsey Marshal and Terry Gilliam - and Capaldi's sharp wit.

The Thick of It star Peter Capaldi's spoof documentary pays homage to "some of the forgotten icons of British cinema" and a film studio "where dreams came true but only a little bit". Clever and mocking rather than laugh-out-loud funny, it tells the imagined history of the fictional Cricklewood Film Studios, from the days of silent films to the low-rent horror pictures of the Seventies, and recalls the tragic stories of its stars.