For Better And (Mainly) Worse, Ricky Gervais Comes Full Circle In The ‘David Brent’ Film

It doesn’t take long for Ricky Gervais’ feature-length resuscitation of David Brent (his greatest, and possibly only great, creation) to clearly give away its obvious resolutions. With awkward moments and lackluster characters, it paves a marathon path that makes no real effort to deliver any discernable narrative, nor development. It’s quite remarkable, really.

Brent is the product of one of the most adored British comedies of all-time — one rich with a cast to counter, or exacerbate, their boss’ flagrant idiosyncratic idiocies. Now, in 2016, Brent is a turkey placed amongst turkeys. Gervais’ at-times nuanced ability to marry self-parody with measured self-restraint saves the film from being an outright turkey itself.

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“These Go To Eleven.”

Life On The Road is a mockumentary, in the same format of The Office. Though, this time, it’s a musical mockumentary chronicling the ‘tour’ (with a comically short radius) of Brent’s band of session musicians, Foregone Conclusion. That’s the essence, or entirety, of the plot: an over-ambitious and mediocre musician takes leave from his sales job to embark on a monetarily exorbitant but extremely small-scale tour. But, as much as Gervais might wish it to be, this isn’t Spinal Tap.

From the opening homage (or wholesale rip) tip of the hat to Rob Reiner’s Marty DiBergi, it’s clear what the film is shooting for. Reiner’s 1984 masterpiece is the benchmark for mockumentary; the torch carried by its star and co-writer Christopher Guest (who tapped Gervais for the middling For Your Consideration) with Waiting For Guffman and Best In Show. The Office was practically the equivalent benchmark for the small screen; it was so popular and influential it even pulled off the miraculous feat of a successful US remake. In this way, placing Brent in the rock setting aims to bring everything into a neat circle, but instead the film sees Gervais contort into his own Ouroboros, tempered by flashes of self-awareness.

Notably, Life On The Road brings none of the original Office inhabitants along for the ride beyond its titular star, instead supplementing with featherweight proxies. Brent’s desk-mate Nigel (Tom Bennett) is somewhere between a weak reheat of Office accomplice Gareth and a younger version of Brent himself – not quite stacking up as either. Somehow, for all its shortcomings as a film (which there are many), it at least achieves watchable merit in its character study of Brent.

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Brent vs. Gervais.

Life On The Road is a regression from Extras’ meta-biography, where Gervais’ Andy Millman was purported to be a more genuine reflection of the comedian’s struggles with the industry. Instead it’s Brent who is his more honest avatar. We know Brent is pathetic. But here Gervais also feels pathetic, reprising his long-dormant masterstroke, this time without writing partner Stephen Merchant.

Brent is an image of loneliness, paying bandmates to stick around after a show for a pint. Despite marketing attempts to wrangle a catchphrase – one of the main contentions of Extras – the most pervasive beat in Life On The Road, to its credit, is Brent’s wheezy, mitigating chuckle. So much so, it annoys. But it’s meant to annoy. And in one of the few successful moments of stripping the character bare, it punches with a bleak devastation.

The attempt to retread the ground broken by Brent’s overwhelming cringe caresses a fine line between cheap and knowing. In one scene, perhaps only a ploy to squeeze sympathy from a stone, we see Brent visit a shrink. It tries to convey a sense of authenticity and depth without showing why. A more deftly crafted scene later in the movie shows Brent, inebriated, carried by his knowingly token black friend and talented bandmate/rapper Dom Johnson (played by a largely deadpanning Doc Brown, the Martin Freeman equivalent here).

Brent’s political incorrectness crosses the line in deliberately gasp-inducing fashion. The initial shock is confronting, and it is challenging humour, but adds more than one layer to the David Brent we know and loathe from The Office. We catch glimpse of why David Brent acts like David Brent, seen humanised, without compromising the painful, at times monstrous, mediocrity of the character.

Gervais’ idol, David Bowie, broke through with his 1969 track ‘Space Oddity’, a song that enjoyed and endured several resurgences during the ‘70s. The protagonist of the song is Major Tom, an abstract, Icarus-like projection, possibly of Bowie himself. The character is revisited in 1980’s ‘Ashes To Ashes’, in a more strict biographical caricature. It would be extremely generous to call Life On The Road Gervais’ ‘Ashes To Ashes’, but it’s a fitting comparison for self-referential works.

Gervais has hit heaven’s high ­– a Hollywood darling of sorts, hosting awards ceremonies, yet still never landing a Hollywood hit. Life On The Road might not be his all-time low, but it is in the sense of what he’s constructed for Brent. Extras, the crest of his post-Office success, enrolled an incredible array of A-list talent, including a memorable visit from Bowie himself. Not to spoil Life On The Road’s only ‘star’ cameo, but it’s a laughable compromise. It’s what Brent/Gervais deserves in their respective realms.

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It’s Not The Office, And That’s Okay. 

I like The Office and, importantly, I don’t like The Office any less from watching Life On The Road. Gervais has made it clear that this isn’t an Office movie. Not to forgive the paper-thin (get it? The Office was set in a paper company. Good stuff) premise and one-dimensional supporting cast, but the re-contextualising of David Brent in 2016 is largely a low-key success.

He does garner sympathy, even though Gervais as writer/director often stumbles. Most of what Brent says is incredibly fucked, but the core of his character does show glimpses of heart. The closing frame – a masterful finish, even if it is a fluke – doesn’t vindicate what came before, but it does compound its few redeeming qualities. That goes for Brent, too.

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Life on The Road is in cinemas now.

Lachlan Kanoniuk is a Melbourne-based music and film critic. He is the editor of Faster Louder.