I know comedy gold when I detect it – and what a finale!
Detectorists BBC2, Boxing Day ★★★★★ Prince Andrew: The Musical Channel 4, Thursday ★★★★★
Detectorists ran for three series from 2014 to 2017, when Mackenzie Crook, the show’s writer, said that was it, finito, no more Andy, no more Lance, and Detectorists fans, of whom I am one, went: What? No more Andy? No more Lance? No more of Lance’s cooking and his ‘swede surprise’, the surprise being how bland it was? (Andy: ‘Mmm, that is bland!’ Lance: ‘Surprisingly bland!’)
No, that is it, said Crook, unless he had a particularly good idea for bringing the pair back, and guess what? He did have that idea, hence this feature-length special, which was, of course, a delight. In spirit it always puts me in mind of Dad’s Army, which isn’t something you can say lightly. But it has the same affection for its characters and their (many) flaws and never treats them cruelly. The tone is so overwhelmingly fond I think I could even be fond of swede-based cuisine.
Crook, who also directs, and probably wrote the theme tune, plays Andy, while Toby Jones, who may be the most perfect casting ever and is truly sublime, plays Lance. The pair, who live in the fictional small town of Danebury, Essex, try to strike it rich with their metal detectors, although mostly they only ever find canned drink ring-pulls (‘Tizer, ’83’).
Moving slowly under a broad swathe of sky in an open field, they spend hours searching for treasure. Some would say that, like Mortimer And Whitehouse: Gone Fishing, which doesn’t include much fishing, this is primarily about male friendship, but it isn’t quite the same. Here, Andy and Lance are seeking to distract themselves from the quiet desperation of their lives and, to a certain extent, the futility. It does have a melancholy air.
At the end of the third series, gold was discovered but, as you’ll find out, that didn’t work out happily. The pair have now secured a new field and Lance, who is still dispensing advice – ketchup should always be stored in the cupboard, a child’s painting should be kept on the fridge for three weeks, max – wants to keep it secret from the rest of the Danebury Metal Detecting Club (membership: still seven). Andy is horrified. He has found a sword pommel and wants to put it out on the club’s ‘finds table’. It could be ‘find of the month’. But Lance is insistent. If Andy’s main flaw is being a workshy slacker, then Lance’s is raging pride.
The plot involves the location of the Battle of Braintree, and a major find, but is essentially about Lance putting that pride before friendship. ‘I broke protocol badly,’ he confides to his girlfriend, Toni, ‘I hid a find.’ This backfires spectacularly, until it doesn’t, and it becomes the making of Andy. More than this I cannot say, as I had to swear in blood that I wouldn’t give the game away.
It unfolds slowly, as it always does, but is never dull, although some members of my household will say otherwise. You just have to get into its rhythm and appreciate all those cutaways to the glorious countryside. The comedy is low-key too and most of it resides in knowing the characters so well, and knowing that a discussion about last night’s University Challenge is always imminent.
My one complaint is I’ve always found Andy’s relationship with Becky (Rachael Stirling), an ambitious school teacher, not especially believable, but I’m over that now. And their baby, Stan? He’s seven! (Seven!) One last thing: did you spot Professor Alice Roberts’s brief but very funny appearance? And now I’ve done reviewing it, what shall we do next? In the words of Andy, or Lance: pub?
No. Not yet. I have a second review to do! This is Prince Andrew: The Musical, which, in spirit, is most like The Windsors, as it’s played as a slapstick farce. Kieran Hodgson, who co-wrote the musical numbers, stars as Andrew, and it follows his travails from being ‘the most eligible bachelor in the world’ – he thinks – to his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein and the Queen stripping him of his military titles. (I always knew I was in trouble with my mother when she stripped me of my military titles. We have that much in common.) It is a hoot, if merciless. It opens with reallife footage of his (disastrous) interview with Emily Maitlis, which morphs into the duet I Nailed It. He imagines he has nailed it: ‘I did everything right/my accusers are losers/I can’t believe I said that thing about the sweat/ but you’d rather have a prince that’s dry rather than one that’s soaking wet.’ Everyone is slaughtered, including poor Fergie (Jenny Bede), always dressed in terrible bows, yet it is also sensitive where it most matters. It doesn’t, for example, make light of the sexual abuse allegations, which are never the source of any jokes. Instead, it focuses on Andrew’s character and his sense of entitlement, which means he has no idea how awful he is. Its production values aren’t especially polished, and some of the songs sound samey, but it does have energy and wit, plus a cameo from Harry Enfield as Tony Blair. And now, finally, we’re done. Pub?