Just who’s fooling who in this fake reality show? Search me...
The Underdog: Josh Must Win
Monday to Wednesday, E4
★★★★★
Renegade Nell
Friday, Disney+ ★★★★★
There’s a new Sally Wainwright drama this week, and in a normal week the new Sally Wainwright drama would be up here on the page, right where we are now, just because it’s Sally Wainwright. It was my plan to lead on it, but then along came The Underdog: Josh Must Win, which is one of those shows that’s in danger of going under your radar. And we can’t have that. Because it shouldn’t. (I feel the same way about this as I did Amazon’s Jury Duty, which I put you on to, remember?)
This is definitely the programme you have to watch if, like me, you wake up most mornings with a longing that goes something along the lines of: ‘I do wish something smart would come along to subvert the reality genre and give it a good kicking.’ However, because of The Underdog’s format it can only be done once, so fill your boots before it’s back to The Apprentice or similar.
Here’s the format: a group of the usual reality TV types – influencers, beauty queens, fellas with biceps larger than your Easter ham – have gathered in one of those pimped-up mansions to compete in a show called The Favourite. To win the £10,000 prize, they must be voted the most popular housemate. They are not modest. One rates herself as follows: ‘Looks, 10. Personality, 10. Talent, 10.’ You know the drill. But among them is 23-year-old Josh. Josh lives in Bournemouth with his mum and their four chocolate labradors. Josh is quiet and unassuming, looks like a young Jesse Eisenberg and is smaller than one of rival competitor Jack’s biceps. Or Myles’s. Or Andre’s. Unbeknown to everyone in the house, including Josh, The Favourite is not a real show. The real game involves a panel of celebrities holed up next door manipulating events so that Josh climbs the social hierarchy. If Josh does come out on top, the housemates will share up to £100,000. ‘JOSH,’ a voiceover reminds us, ‘MUST. WIN.’ (Elsewhere, Diane Morgan narrates knowingly.)
The panel consists of Nick Grimshaw, who also serves as a Davinastyle decoy host, as well as three reality alumni: Vicky Pattison (Geordie Shore), Amber Rose Gill (Love Island), and Pete Wicks (TOWIE). They are all charmingly funny, plus Wicks certainly knows how to wear an interesting cardigan. Meanwhile, Josh, who is adorable but isn’t what’s known as ‘A BIG PERSONALITY’, wanders the mansion like a lost soul. How will the panel make the others see his virtues? How will Josh react to climbing the hierarchy?
This mashes up all the reality tropes there are. It’s a bit Big Brother, a bit I’m A Celebrity – one nasty challenge involves ducking into a vat of soured milk to retrieve an ox tongue – and a bit Traitor-ish, as they discuss who they think should be eliminated. They believe that, ultimately, it’s up to the public vote, so when Josh isn’t voted out they imagine the audience are on his side and start paying him some heed. As if it might rub off. The strategising is fascinating. But fair play to Louie, who is Josh’s pal from day one.
I could be wrong, as I often am, but I did start to wonder if the panel was also being duped. I won’t say more, as I don’t want to plant that seed, but are we all being manipulated? Is that the point? Not so much that a decent, average, authentic fella should win one of those contests for once, but to show how fake it is for everybody.
That would be a clever twist but, please, don’t think I know anything you don’t. I can only say that it’s inventive and original and continues this week. You don’t have to thank me, but a card would be nice.
On to Sally Wainwright’s Renegade Nell, where there is good news and bad news. The good news is that it’s by Sally Wainwright (Happy Valley, Gentleman Jack), and the bad news is that the storytelling involves the supernatural and magic, which, to my mind, is always cheating. (What are the rules? If normal rules don’t apply, why does anything that happens matter?) But here we are, and it’s worth bearing in mind that it seems to be aimed at a family audience and is, on the whole, a boisterously good, fun period romp (she concedes, grudgingly). It also stars Louisa Harland from Derry Girls, who is terrific (she further concedes, grudgingly).
Harland plays Nell ‘Don’t call me Nelly’ Jackson, who is framed for murder and has to go on the run as a highway robber in 18thcentury England. She is protected by a sprite – a miniaturised Nick Mohammed with tiny wings, like Tinkerbell – who gives her the superpower of indestructibility. Her nemesis is the Earl of Poynton (Adrian Lester), a conjuror of the dark arts who can summon ‘Herne the hunter’, a stag-headed monster on horseback. Why they have these powers when no one else does baffles me. On the other hand, I could just be a party pooper,
Nell must save herself, her two sisters and, eventually, the Queen. There is something enormously satisfying about seeing her whupping the asses of bullies who aren’t expecting it, and there are many delicious performances. (Especially Frank Dillane as a sleazily genial highwayman-cum-toff.) Plus, you do have Wainwright’s brilliant use of language.
But while the action scenes are skilfully choreographed, since we know that Nell can’t lose any fight, I’m not sure the stakes are that high, and it does get repetitive. It’s eight episodes and tiresome by the end. You could say it’s Wainwright letting her hair down, which is fair enough, and she’s earned it.
I will concede that, also grudgingly.