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When I heard about this new comedy series from the creators of Peep Show, I was skeptical. It sold itself as a witty, urbane look at university life in the U.K. A sort of British Undeclared, if you will. But it bore all the smug hallmarks of shows like Campus, 4's disappointing recent attempt at a college comedy. The flippant attitude. The slick presentation. The abundance of "look at me" naughty words...
Unlike that show, this is no poor man's Community. This is a much less gag-oriented beast. Think a Freaks and Geeks approach to university as opposed to high school, with comedy and drama on a level pegging. It has a charming, slightly wry streak to it, but it doesn't go out of its way to be "zany" either. Most importantly though, the focus of this show is squarely on the students. Campus might have been preoccupied with showing how teachers and staff can be as immature as their students, but Fresh Meat achieves that - with a fantastic performance from Robert Webb as a hapless geology tutor - without feeling tethered to a one-dimensional controlling idea.
"Yeah, apparently Russell Brand's upstairs. Probably washing some female ejaculate out of his 'pubey wubes', as he'd put it."
In a way, the biggest failing of Campus, it's familiarity, is Fresh Meat's greatest strength. There is nothing particularly revolutionary about the (mis)adventures of these fresher housemates and that's no bad thing. This show is one big love letter to university life. Writ large. From the Invisible Housemate to the muddy looking cups of tea served in clear glasses and grotty living spaces, every ingredient is present and correct. There are airhead drama students so high on freedom they're always away in the clouds. There are sheltered girls next door throwing themselves into belated rebellion. And there are enough romantic disasters to get Mills and Boon all worked up.
"So are you gonna ask him out on a date?"
"What, like a candlelit dinner? What are we, bank managers? No, I'm gonna wait for a party, force feed him tequila, and jump on him."
Stepping into this world of endearingly clueless teenagers feels like unearthing a favourite t-shirt or something from the loft and wondering how it ever ended up there in the first place. It doesn't hope to coast by on nostalgia alone though. It's smart enough to be a fantastic time capsule for those who've been through the experience, but funny enough so newcomers shouldn't feel excluded. What's more, this timelessness shines through despite its contemporary feel. The lay of the student land is much the same as it ever was, yet social media and other modern trappings ensure a much broader appeal than a period setting would have.
In other words, every episode is spiked with lots of great stuff hipsters would ordinarily avoid if it didn't look as cool or sound as "bangin.'"
Revisiting the time when not doing the required reading felt like a massive deal might not sound rewarding or prescient, but it's the best reminder to keep things in perspective I've seen on TV in a long time. It doesn't matter if you have your own work due in tomorrow or not. I dare say we can all appreciate how easy it is to overlook the little details, or blow something out of all proportion. Wake up calls don't come much sharper or beautifully shot than this. Not without a heavy-handed agenda, anyway.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of all about this show, however, is Jack Whitehall. Normally a comedian/TV personality I detest, Whitehall is perfect as toffee-nosed ingrate JP, the poncey rich-boy his housemates love to hate. Like a mirror universe Scott Pilgrim, devoid of charm or integrity, he blags his way through life by convincing gullible bystanders to buy his Class A recreational tools... or test them for him so he doesn't die. Unsurprisingly, he's directly or indirectly responsible for the best one-liners: "Cars are cool. Everyone knows it. That's why even lesbians like Top Gear."
Sure, one joke about penises might be a better punchline than five or six. And matching music thematically to the content of a scene might feel a little too obvious for a show as deft as this, but there's far too much good here to get hung up on a few niggles. This sort of thing may even be a way to ease the transition into more adult fair for kids who grew up on Skins. Like its protagonists, this show might not be the finished article, but it's already well on its way to coming of age. Not bad going for 4 episodes in.
I don't know if you cats on the other side of The Pond can avail of this or not, but all four episodes can be found here.
Unlike that show, this is no poor man's Community. This is a much less gag-oriented beast. Think a Freaks and Geeks approach to university as opposed to high school, with comedy and drama on a level pegging. It has a charming, slightly wry streak to it, but it doesn't go out of its way to be "zany" either. Most importantly though, the focus of this show is squarely on the students. Campus might have been preoccupied with showing how teachers and staff can be as immature as their students, but Fresh Meat achieves that - with a fantastic performance from Robert Webb as a hapless geology tutor - without feeling tethered to a one-dimensional controlling idea.
"Yeah, apparently Russell Brand's upstairs. Probably washing some female ejaculate out of his 'pubey wubes', as he'd put it."
In a way, the biggest failing of Campus, it's familiarity, is Fresh Meat's greatest strength. There is nothing particularly revolutionary about the (mis)adventures of these fresher housemates and that's no bad thing. This show is one big love letter to university life. Writ large. From the Invisible Housemate to the muddy looking cups of tea served in clear glasses and grotty living spaces, every ingredient is present and correct. There are airhead drama students so high on freedom they're always away in the clouds. There are sheltered girls next door throwing themselves into belated rebellion. And there are enough romantic disasters to get Mills and Boon all worked up.
"So are you gonna ask him out on a date?"
"What, like a candlelit dinner? What are we, bank managers? No, I'm gonna wait for a party, force feed him tequila, and jump on him."
Stepping into this world of endearingly clueless teenagers feels like unearthing a favourite t-shirt or something from the loft and wondering how it ever ended up there in the first place. It doesn't hope to coast by on nostalgia alone though. It's smart enough to be a fantastic time capsule for those who've been through the experience, but funny enough so newcomers shouldn't feel excluded. What's more, this timelessness shines through despite its contemporary feel. The lay of the student land is much the same as it ever was, yet social media and other modern trappings ensure a much broader appeal than a period setting would have.
In other words, every episode is spiked with lots of great stuff hipsters would ordinarily avoid if it didn't look as cool or sound as "bangin.'"
Revisiting the time when not doing the required reading felt like a massive deal might not sound rewarding or prescient, but it's the best reminder to keep things in perspective I've seen on TV in a long time. It doesn't matter if you have your own work due in tomorrow or not. I dare say we can all appreciate how easy it is to overlook the little details, or blow something out of all proportion. Wake up calls don't come much sharper or beautifully shot than this. Not without a heavy-handed agenda, anyway.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of all about this show, however, is Jack Whitehall. Normally a comedian/TV personality I detest, Whitehall is perfect as toffee-nosed ingrate JP, the poncey rich-boy his housemates love to hate. Like a mirror universe Scott Pilgrim, devoid of charm or integrity, he blags his way through life by convincing gullible bystanders to buy his Class A recreational tools... or test them for him so he doesn't die. Unsurprisingly, he's directly or indirectly responsible for the best one-liners: "Cars are cool. Everyone knows it. That's why even lesbians like Top Gear."
Sure, one joke about penises might be a better punchline than five or six. And matching music thematically to the content of a scene might feel a little too obvious for a show as deft as this, but there's far too much good here to get hung up on a few niggles. This sort of thing may even be a way to ease the transition into more adult fair for kids who grew up on Skins. Like its protagonists, this show might not be the finished article, but it's already well on its way to coming of age. Not bad going for 4 episodes in.
I don't know if you cats on the other side of The Pond can avail of this or not, but all four episodes can be found here.
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