Rory Kinnear

Steve Delaney and Graham Linehan's old-school comedy must surely be given a third series, and ought to be slap bang in primetime. This run has edged diffidently towards greatness, with several moments where plot and character have meshed to make something sublime. The finale has bittersweet jeopardy as Michael (Rory Kinnear), a sitcom character who isn't trapped, considers leaving, while Arthur (Delaney) finds success as an unorthodox TV psychic. The transitions from stupid to serious are remarkably deft.

Radio Times review

If you've ever wondered how to deal with a cold caller, the unquenchable Count Arthur Strong may give you an idea or two. That phone call opens an emotional rollercoaster finale, crammed with lovely gags, sad scenes and cockle-warming surprises.

It's breakthrough time for both Arthur and Michael (genius double act Steve Delaney and Rory Kinnear), but while the Count becomes increasingly bumptious over his new-found TV fame, Michael is just a walking knot of anxiety when Hollywood beckons.

If this series is now out for the Count, it exits on a delirious high. Delaney and co-writer Graham Linehan originally said they wanted to make a sitcom with a heart. They have triumphed resoundingly.

Radio Times review

There's always been competitive tension between writer Michael (Rory Kinnear) and his father figure, the heroically deluded Arthur (Steve Delaney). And that reaches snapping point, as a TV documentary team plans a profile of Michael. "Just for once, Arthur, step back and let me have a moment," says Michael. "Don't ruin this for me."

Famous last words, of course - Arthur's new career as a living statue threatens to hijack proceedings. His inability to stand still is a standout moment, as is his confusion at a cups-and-ball trick. And how nice to see Rory Kinnear ace a traditional sitcom, very much the domain of his father Roy 40 years ago.

Despite its nonsensical timeslot, the Count is delighting his fans with a warm blend of character comedy, well-honed pranks and, when you're not expecting it, stabbing pathos.

Radio Times review

It's one long, surreal trip down memory lane for ageing impresario and self-styled noble, Count Arthur Strong. Recalling his teddy-boy days via unreliable flashback, the episode riffs on West Side Story, Oliver! and even The Great Escape. It all begins when a guilt offering from Michael (Rory Kinnear) takes Arthur out of the cocoon of Bulent's greasy caff and out to the airfield. Thanks to a cleverly constructed misunderstanding, an ordinary scene of two people walking towards some light aircraft becomes something hysterical.

Radio Times review

Spirited buffoon Count Arthur Strong returns to wade through more malapropisms with his pals from the scruffy café. Arthur, a former actor long past his glory days, carries on like an actor playing himself in a film of his life. He's an acquired taste, a Radio 4 staple where he was adored and derided equally, and now a television presence, whose first series two years ago didn't trouble a mass audience.

This is all irrelevant, of course, if you find Arthur (created and played by Steve Delaney) a joyously funny poltroon very much in the vein of Harry Worth. As we return, Arthur's friend Michael (smashing Rory Kinnear) arrives after six months in Yorkshire, suffering from writer's block. And he finds that Arthur has written a "racist" novel, a "Fifty Crates of Plates for the over-70s".

Radio Times review

Thank goodness BBC bosses had already paid heed to the quality of the material, commissioning a second series of Count Arthur Strong before the disappointing ratings came in. Steve Delaney's comic creation made the tricky transition from Radio 4 to BBC Two by relocating to a café full of odd-bod friends, led by Rory Kinnear as fussy author Michael Baker - the perfect foil for the former music hall star's eccentricity. As for Arthur himself, his spirited stagger and unique ability to spit words out like cherry pips made for a character you could love like a meddling grandfather - one who had us laughing heartily one minute and reaching for the tissues the next.

The challenge for much-loved radio institutions transferring to TV is introducing themselves to a new audience while keeping the loyal fanbase onside. On the basis of this series opener, Steve Delaney's doddery, malapropistic and memory-challenged 'showbiz legend' manages some funny moments, but this still feels almost aggressively old school in its format and furthermore, very much like a show that might as well still be on the wireless.

The story arc involves Rory Kinnear's author Michael Barker attempting to write his father's biography. His father Max, was Count Arthur's comedy partner. And so it begins. Oddly, this show may be redeemed by its promising minor characters: Kinnear is amusingly prissy and pedantic, and we like the look of Chris Ryman as café owner Bulent, too. We weren't alone in feeling equivocal about the series, but that hasn't stopped the BBC from a quickfire repeat and early recommission.

The television version of Steve Delaney's Radio 4 series has jaggedly divided both audiences and critics. But I will heretically declare that I think it's been a hugely successful transfer and I love the Count (Delaney) on television even more than I do on radio. So there.

There's been a subtle poignancy to the TV series and the feel of a proper ensemble comedy as Delaney and co-writer/director Graham Linehan surrounded Arthur with a clutch of endearing misfit friends. And one sensible friend, Michael, biographer and son of Arthur's one-time music hall collaborator, played by the peerless Rory Kinnear. As the series ends Arthur is still mourning the loss of his friend Katya and decides to hold a seance. It's sad and funny.

Populated by doddering characters and stylistically channelling the old-school British sitcom, Steve Delaney and Graham Linehan's comedy isn't the most exciting prospect. That's a shame, because it's very funny. This penultimate episode, in which Arthur inadvertently infiltrates the staff of a hospital where Michael (Rory Kinnear) is being treated, climaxes in an incredibly artful punchline pile-up. In great sitcom tradition, there's emotional resonance here that goes beyond farce, with nods to loss and loneliness scattered throughout.