Grandma's House

Sardonic TV presenter Simon Amstell plays himself in his continuing sitcom about life in a Jewish family. Tonight he buys his mother (Rebecca Front) a new car, which she's reluctant to accept. She's also baffled by his ambition to write plays: "Don't you want to be a household name in America like Cat Deeley?"

Grandma's House, BBC Two, review

I once worked as the arts editor on a newspaper where I began to suspect, from the nature of his reviews, that one of the critics was going mad. Now, it seems quite possible the same thing is happening to me. Last week, I found myself wondering if we might be living through a Golden Age of BBC sitcoms. But before the catcalls and the restraint orders come raining down, consider the evidence.

Last year sarky, squeaky-voiced Simon Amstell gave up hosting the comedy pop panel game Never Mind the Buzzcocks to pursue other things, maybe act a bit. Now the likable - though clearly quite pleased with himself - funnyman is doing just that, starring in a new sitcom called Grandma's House (BBC2).

But is it acting? Because he plays a character called Simon who is thinking of giving up hosting a comedy pop panel game in order to do other things, maybe act a bit.

"Act?" says his horrified mother. "You can't act, can you?" She isn't happy about Simon's decision. Watching her son taking the piss out of pop stars on the telly makes her dead proud. It's the only thing that gives her joy and she records every episode. She's not really his mum, she's funny Rebecca Front, who can act a bit. I have no idea what the real Mrs Amstell thought about her son's decision to quit NMTB.

Can Simon act, though? Well, it's hard to know really, given that he's essentially just being himself. It's not exactly playing King Lear, is it? (Unless you happen to be King Lear.) But he is likable (in spite of clearly being quite pleased with himself). As he was on Buzzcocks. So what you have is a fairly traditional sitcom, with someone being himself at the centre of it, got it? It does take a bit of getting your head around. Maybe think of it as a kind of British Curb Your Enthusiasm.

No, that's clearly ridiculous, an insult to Larry David. But it does sort of work. Amstell is funny and the other characters are good. I especially like cousin Clive, who's about 13, has recently decided he doesn't want to be an independent financial adviser when he grows up, and enjoys visiting a website called Interracial Creampies (don't check to see if it really exists if you're at work, as I did - I'm expecting the tribunal any minute). And Simon's mum's new fella, Clive, who, as Simon says, is a prick.

Grandma's House is sharply written, with some nice lines and a bit of edge to it. And every now and then it will throw a little surprise at you - like grandpa's cancer (well, it may not be; last time he had cancer it turned out to be a raisin); the fact that Clive once ran over and killed a tramp; and Simon's cousin Adam disappearing upstairs to shave his head. Worth pursuing, I think.

It was a curate's egg of a half-hour, not that a curate and his egg offer the best metaphor for a show about a loving but bickering family of east London Jews. In fact, it is a singularly ill-fitting metaphor, the expression "curate's egg" originating in the old Punch cartoon about a curate who was too timid to complain about a bad egg he had been served. There would be no such timidity at any table of Jews worth their salt beef. Even a visiting rabbi would spit out such an egg.

Enough eggs already. Grandma's House revolves around the simple idea, one that dates back almost to the birth of television comedy, of different generations of the same family arguing in a front room. Steptoe and Son did it to great effect, so did Til Death Us Do Part, so did The Royle Family. In some ways, Grandma's House is The Royle Family with chopped liver. In other ways, it is Seinfeld removed to Gants Hill. And the nod to Seinfeld is evident in the character of Simon (Simon Amstell), the presenter of a TV comedy panel show about music, which - just as Jerry Seinfeld played a stand-up comedian called Jerry, a mildly fictionalised version of himself - is precisely what Amstell, the co-writer of Grandma's House with Dan Swimer and erstwhile presenter of Never Mind the Buzzcocks, is in real life. Or was. Indeed, in last night's opening episode Simon announced to his family his intention to quit his TV show, much to their dismay. "In my kalooki group that's all we talk about," lamented his grandma (Linda Bassett).

The other obvious parallel with Seinfeld is that Jerry Seinfeld made it through nine seasons of that phenomenally successful show rarely ever being more than engagingly wooden as an actor. Good acting was the preserve of his brilliant co-stars and so it is here. Amstell barely seems to try to act, just issues his lines semi-mechanically wearing a half-smile, just as Jerry did.

Still, it didn't matter in Seinfeld and, strangely, it doesn't matter here either. Amstell, aided by the sensible decision not to run a laughter-track, somehow makes a virtue of his self-consciousness, and in any case, there are enough pitch-perfect performances, notably from Rebecca Front playing Simon's divorced mother, Tanya, and Samantha Spiro as his aunt, Liz. It helps that the writing, too, is often pitch-perfect. Tanya is being courted by Clive (James Smith), whom Simon loathes, but who is considered highly eligible largely on account of a 42-inch plasma TV on which "you can see every hair of Noel Edmonds's beard". And when Simon's grandpa (Geoffrey Hutchings) breaks the news that he has cancer (an unwittingly poignant detail, given that Hutchings died suddenly last month), it is questioned on the basis that "years ago he found a lump on his testicle and it was a raisin in his pants".

Just as a wandering raisin can be mistaken for a testicular lump, so can a promising first episode be mistaken for a good new sitcom, and I wouldn't like to commit myself too soon. Besides, there are reasons why London-Jewish humour is far less familiar to us than the kind of New York-Jewish humour exemplified by Neil Simon, Woody Allen, Seinfeld and Larry David (whose Curb Your Enthusiasm also has loud echoes in Grandma's House). It is no accident that the Jewish humour British audiences know best and love most has historically been imported, mordant and razor-sharp, from the United States. Nor is it any accident that Jewish characters in British sitcoms are, for the most part, pretty forgettable. It is more than 40 years since Never Mind the Quality, Feel the Width, and not even the warm glow of nostalgia does it any favours.

Simon Amstell's decision to quit as host of Never Mind The Buzzcocks was just about worthy of a few column inches within the showbiz pages of The Sun and the Daily Mirror, but its own sitcom? Apparently so... The opening scene of the sarky comedian's first stab at situation comedy sees him being berated by his family for ditching his lucrative line in insulting pop stars. It seems upsetting Preston from The Ordinary Boys pays the mortgage.

It has to be said that acting isn't exactly Simon's strong point, since he struggles to portray even a convincing version of Simon Amstell. While a fine cast including seasoned humourists like Rebecca Front (The Thick of It) as Simon's mum and Linda Bassett (East is East) as his Grandma put in fantastically accomplished performances, to say that the former Popworld host looked a little out of sorts is something of an understatement.

With all of this self-referencing and ham-fisted stabs at acting, I was expecting to loathe Grandma's House, but it's actually rather good, with some decent gags and - apart from Mr Amstell - a genuinely brilliant cast. Other topics covered in the series opener included the facial hair issues of Auntie Liz (Samantha Spiro) - easily resolved with a roll of Sellotape, it seems; Grandpa (Geoffrey Hutchings) suspecting he has "cancer" (he's peeing a lot); and best of all, mum Tanya's buffoon of a new boyfriend Clive, a barnstorming performance from The Thick of It's James Smith.

All in all the Grandma's House opener offered up more than enough laughs to merit tuning in next week, but one wonders whether it might not be improved with someone else in the lead role. Next time, Simon, cast someone else as yourself.

Every TV presenting slot that has been vacated by Simon Amstell has been a sorrier place because of it: he made Never Mind The Buzzcocks edgy and exciting, while his shameless mocking of stupid pop singers was the only reason to watch Popworld. So it was great to see him back in TV presenter mode (of sorts) in self-referential sitcom Grandma's House.

It opened with Amstell in the company of his overbearing assembled family - Little Englanders holed up in Essex - announcing that he wanted to quit his TV quiz show because he felt bad about being mean to celebs. 'You're a presenter who takes the p*** out of people - it's not mean, it's cheeky,' implored mum (Rebecca Front). 'It's not very Buddhist, though,' pondered Amstell. 'You could do The Knowledge,' offered Grandad.

And so the conversation gloriously ping-ponged, with Amstell remaining barbed and his daft family hopelessly out of their depth.

This was one of those neatly crafted scripts where every line counted and it reached even giddier heights when we were introduced to Clive, the alpha-male bore dating his mother. He calls Amstell 'Captain'. He once ran over a tramp. And he's 'big in boxes'. 'So... what's your favourite box?' asked Amstell over lunch. Clive missed the mercilessly mocking tone. 'OK, good question... the stack nests.'

It proves what we've always known about Amstell: he's brilliantly funny but we won't be inviting him round for tea.

Grandma's House review

Overall, there was enough potential in the characters and writing to lure me back for another visit to Grandma's House, but the meta concept isn't appealing and doesn't seem necessary.

Grandma's House review

All in all, a good start to the series. One which definitely invites a return next week, although it might not quite be worth staying in for yet. Good for a laugh, if there's nothing better on, certainly. Rather like Never Mind the Buzzcocks was.

A family affair: How to make a UK Curb Your Enthuusiasm

Can you make a British Curb Your Enthusiasm? Simon Amstell tells James Rampton how he and co-writer Dan Swimer may have pulled it off.

If you know Simon Amstell, it's probably from his fine work as the host of Never Mind the Buzzcocks. He was brilliant at it - fizzing with cruel jibes at the expense of guests. Then he decided to do something else. That something else turns out to be this, a sitcom in which Amstell's character has to cope with his Essex family's disappointment when he gives up his popular TV show. Yes, we're in self-referential territory here. "You can't act, can you?" splutters his indignant mother, played by Rebecca Front. "Anyway, you've got a skill already - taking the p*** out of pop stars." Front is on great form playing what could be a stock character, the oppressive Jewish mother, and there are flashes of something special in the petty domestic exchanges. It takes a while to get on the show's wavelength but, on the evidence here, it looks like being well worth it.