Doc Morrissey ‘Do you find you can’t finish the crossword like you used to, nasty taste in the mouth in the mornings, can’t stop thinking about sex, can’t start doing anything about sex, wake up with a sweat in the mornings, keep falling asleep during ‘”Play For Today”?’
Reginald Perrin ‘Extraordinary, Doc! It’s exactly how I’ve been feeling, yes.’
Doc Morrissey: ‘So do I. I wonder what it is?’ (Hippopotamus, 1976: 16:06)
Of late I’ve been rediscovering some ‘lost’ classics of TV broadcast when I was in my infancy, which were likely big contemporary talking points. Shows which when they were first transmitted I was either too young or disinterested to watch. As a result, I felt it worth putting down a few notes about the experience, given Mrs Llama ‘s interest in popular culture doesn’t quite extend as far as my own, and hence has become rather tired of hearing me go on about them in detail.
The first of these shows was The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin (1976-1979) which starred the iconic Leonard Rossiter. Fall is adapted from, initially directly and latterly more nebulously [1], on the previously extant novels by David Nobbs. Nobbs is himself also the screenwriter for the show which ensures Fall retains as much of his original text as possible, although I’m led to understand the books contain some slightly darker and saucier narrative elements than seen on screen(!). At the time, Rossiter for his part was concurrently appearing on ‘the light programme’ in his other career defining role as the scurrilous landlord Rigsby in Rising Damp (1974-1978) [2].
Fall was before the last few weeks at best a series I had heard of, perhaps glimpsing the odd episode during its first broadcast or maybe as a repeat in the early 80s’. The only strong remembrance I had of the series was the classic ‘trotting hypotonus/mother-in-law’ sight gag, which I wonder in retrospect might actually be something I more strongly recall from older relative’s discussions or comments. Doubtless though, the moment will have cropped up on the various clip-shows about Rossiter and comedies of the era, which might be where I was first exposed to it. It was with this limited and spotty recollection of this ‘subtle’ gag, that when I recently stumbled across all three series of Fall on YouTube, I assumed that what I’d be in for would be a typical 70s sitcom. That is to say a nuclear family, traditional business setting, with audience laughter signposting every charming but relatively inoffensive joke. Something perhaps aligning more with the charming, semi-domestic cosiness of The Good Life (1975-1978) perhaps, a show which actually shares more than a strand or too of comedic DNA, given their shared anti-establishment themes, with Perrin’s misadventures.
Indeed, at the outset Fall wears the regalia and tropes of its period ‘sitcomness’ well: a depressed and wacky businessman, a long suffering but loving wife to act as the straight ‘man’, a crazy boss and various other supporting characters milking their likely catchphrases for all they’re worth. Indeed, watching the show and listening to the reactions of those early studio audiences, clearly this was the contemporary expectation too. However, as the narrative of the first series progresses, indeed even within the repeat vignettes of the first episode, Fall soon evidences its more subversive and satirical elements. If anything, the show functions more as a deconstruction of the 1970s working/family-man sitcom structures than I had expected, subverting expectations as we slowly weave our way into Perrin’s life.
What is surprising, especially within the first and second series, is the clear overarching plotline woven throughout the individual episodes, something I suspect at the time was revelatory for a situation comedy. Certainly, I would be hard pressed to think of any other comedy show from this period that attempted anything like this – although perhaps I will be surprised as my exploration of this televisual era continues. This strong narrative structure, I strongly suspect, was one driven by the shows novel origins and the serialised narrative it contained. That is not to say each episode doesn’t embrace a single theme or situation about which to unfold its story, but that over all three series characters and situations alike change, quite drastically in fact.
Elizabeth Perrin ‘There you are. Umbrella.’
Reginald Perrin ‘Thank you darling’
Elizabeth Perrin ‘Briefcase.’
Reginald Perrin ‘Thank you Darling.’
Elizabeth Perrin ‘Back at the usual time?’
Reginald Perrin ‘Of course.’
Elizabeth Perrin ‘Oh wait. There’s a piece of white cotton on your coat.’
Reginald Perrin ‘Oh. A narrow escape. London businessman saved from white cotton terror.’
Elizabeth Perrin ‘Well. Have a good day at the office.’
Reginald Perrin ‘I won’t’ (Hippopotamus, 1976: 01:09)
So, what is the Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin actually about? In the first series Rossiter’s Reginald Iolanthe Perrin is demarcated as a man in his mid to late 40s (Rossiter was in his 50s) slowly coming to the realisation how there must be more to life than his current existence. From exchanging mendacious, quotidian badinage with his wife ahead of a dreary commute to a job he clearly despises, and then returning home before repeating the whole, Sisyphean daily cycle once more. On the face of it, Perrin could be any one of us ‘working stiffs’, trapped within an unsatisfying routine of living to work rather than working to live, with scant opportunity to escape from this cycle. And yet, in time, escape Perrin does.
The viewer might conclude how Perrin’s employment could be worse on the face of it. Each day he rides, seated within the suspiciously undercrowded commuter train into town while attempting the crossword with a defeated ineptitude, before strolling casually to the small, somewhat dilapidated and lightly staffed food production company specialising in puddings: Sunshine Desserts. At no point is he crammed into lethargic bumper-to-tail traffic, while listening to inane radio chatter. He also clearly has time for an unharried breakfast at home before departure. Would that many of us in the 21st Century working-commute world be able to enjoy such luxuries.
Nevertheless, at Sunshine Desserts in his role as a frustrated senior executive he is expected to deal with a modestly unhinged CEO’s whimsical management style alongside seemingly obsequious, and monosyllabic office juniors too. An early joke has Perrin making various appointments, suggesting convenient times, which are clearly ignored and overridden each time, indicating the dearth of respect others hold for him. Perrin finds himself frequently tasked by his Managing Director known only as C.J., with a series of ever more seemingly inane product development tasks, engaged with little enthusiasm on his part. Frustrated, Perrin grows to realise, every pun intended, he has little taste for this life anymore. This is despite the pleasure Perrin clearly derives from the flirtatious and near-the-knuckle exchanges, accompanied by some light amorous fantasising we witness in dream sequences, he enjoys with his ‘office wife’, secretary Joan Greengrass [3]. None of this, nor the love of a good woman at home, seems able to assuage the clearly growing ennui and terminal desperation Perrin feels every…single…day.
Something Perrin concludes has to change.
Essentially Fall is a show about a man suffering a mid-life crisis. Its portrayal of work as intrinsically unsatisfying and a source of soul-deadening sickness, will likely still chime with many of us working in the 2020s to keep our heads above water amidst rising costs, stagnating wages and inflationary pressures. However, unlike, say The Good Life, where Tom Good’s similarly unsatisfying work experience leads to him taking personal responsibility for building a better life in one fell swoop, Perrin takes a more anarchistic and at times even nihilistic approach to changing not just his weltanschauung – his worldly perceptions. In actuality, Reggie succeeds in drastically altering his entire way of living and by consequence that of those around him more than once.
Perrin [dictating] ‘Yes. Thank you for your comments of the 27th out. Your complaints about late delay are not only completely unjustified, but also ungrammatical. The fault lies in your inability to fill an order form correctly. You are in effect a pompous, illiterate baboon. Yours faithfully, Reginald I Perrin.’
Joan Greengrass ‘Mister Perrin are you feeling alright?’
Perrin ‘Yes, absolutely topper. Never felt better in my life. In fact I was only saying last night Joan to my wife how, erm, how well life, well I say feeling well I have not been…sleeping too well and I don’t seem to be able to…if anyone wants me Joan I shall be down the corridor seeing Doc Morrisey extension 242.’ (Nightmare in the Park, 1976: 07:45)
In the first series, Perrin starts his disruptions in small ways. Firstly, by finding the freedom to brusquely and joyously speak his mind in tedious business correspondence. Then he starts to ‘act out’ in other aspects of his life, leading in the third episode, The Sunday Extraordinary Business Meeting, to somewhat of a sex-farce where he attempts an afternoon of conjugal bliss with his amenable secretary. So early in the Fall narrative, this episode in particular feels challenging to the audience who might have hitherto taken Reggie to their hearts as a lovable rogue. While in the opportunity created by his wife’s filial-duties created absence, the derailing of Perrin’s tryst caused by frequent unwanted visitors is played for laughs, it reveals Reggie is willing to act on his impulses. Nevertheless, revealed as no mere fantasist, but a willing if ineffective adulterer he loses some of his geniality.
Elizabeth Perrin is portrayed as a loving, charming and rather vivacious wife, rather than a cypher, and in time comes into her own as a main character, especially in the second and third series. That the admittedly rather plain looking Perrin would and indeed could seek comfort elsewhere is mildly shocking, although an admitted common trope of the era. Notably, the second episode opens with Reggie and Elizabeth in bed clearly together in the aftermath of a failed coupling, suggesting that Perrin’s personal ennui has extended to disrupt his otherwise healthy libido.
We, the audience, are granted greater insight into Perrin’s drives and desires, because like Family Guy today, Fall makes frequent use of cutaway gags when what Reggie is actually thinking is revealed. His vivid imagination, first illustrated by the regular trotting hippo’s appearance, certainly leaves the viewer in no doubt as to his intentions towards his secretary. Although notably this device is used less frequently in the later series of the show, to its detriment. The third series in particular could have certainly used more of Reggie’s inner world being displayed, amid the light farce.
As the first series continues, moving from impulsive reactions, Reggie resolves to consciously disrupt all aspects of his life increasingly. Shifting from words to actions during a frustrating family trip to the safari park, Reggie displays an element of self-destructive behaviour by walking amongst the wild beasts. His family are clearly concerned, but as the audience we can see how this act of personal nihilism is actually an early symptom of the more anarchistic whims which will soon uproot his entire life.
Perrin ‘This is the dining room. I thought you’d like to see it.’
Mrs C.J. ‘Very nice.’
Perrin ‘Yes.’
Mrs C.J. ‘What a nice table.’
Perrin ‘Yes.’
David Harris-Jones ‘Super.’
Perrin ‘Yes’
Uncle Spillinger ‘Well it certainly isn’t supper.’
There isn’t, there isn’t any. Yes, I might as well tell you why I’ve invited you all around here and I’m not going to give you anything to eat. I think we live in a world where we’re far too greedy but there isn’t enough food to go around. What you would have had this evening would have been live paté, soul meunière, Guinea fowl in red wine, lemon meringue pie. Instead I’m going to send a cheque for £20 to Oxfam, alight. (The Bizarre Dinner Party, 1976: 12:22)
The attempted tryst soon follows and as he becomes more publicly confident with his new attitude, he throws caution to the wind and hosts a ‘Bizarre Dinner Party’. Perrin’s iconoclastic nature is now clearer than ever to those around him, moving in-universe from eccentric to troubling perhaps. Notably, during this and the preceding episode Elizabeth’s extended visit to her ailing mother is likely at least a proximate cause propagating Reggie’s slow decent into anarchy. Then again, who among us hasn’t reverted to acting on our more impulsive natures when left alone by our partners and families for an extended period. However, the author would like to stress he has never provided hungry visitors with an empty table!
With a greater confidence, Perrin’s transgressions from the norm continue to grow. Unsurprisingly following an outlandish and career ending speech to the British Fruit Association in the next episode, we finally arrive at the moment witnessed at the start of each episode: his faked suicide. From the outset of the series, The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, viewers have been treated to a beachside vignette of a man striping naked and swimming out to their presumed demise. Some may have assumed this was a metaphorical device for a man ‘out of their depth’ in their life, as Reggie appears to be. Others may have assumed his foreshadowed ‘death’ to be the denouement of the series -although this is only the fifth of seven episodes in the first run.
Elizabeth ‘You’re very depressed aren’t you, you didn’t even wince when I crushed the gears’.
Reggie ‘Oh I had so much to say to them’
Elizabeth ‘You were nervous, that’s all.’
Reggie ‘I was drunk. I…I used the wrong words.’ (The Speech to the British Fruit Association, 1976: 18:44)
By her words, Elizabeth clearly by this point has become fully aware how much of Reggie’s actions are driven by a deep depression. Nevertheless, as she drives him away from the speech, he chooses the moment to ‘momentarily’ ostensibly to visit the nearby public conveniences, but actually to slip away from his current life. Reggie proceeds to obtain a Sunshine Desserts lorry under false pretences, pausing along the way to extract a moment of triumphant retribution on the bombastic C.J.. Then it is a short drive to the coast to disrobe, leaving his possessions behind to be found on the beach to create the impression the troubled executive has taken his own life. One would assume for many of the viewing audience this ‘suicide’ was not a surprise, although is a moment of very bleak comedy – I doubt many other light entertainment shows of its era would stage the death of the central character as a comedic point.
Incidentally, in the title sequence where you see Rossiter running down the beach, disrobing, before ducking below the line of sight, it is a different man who appears from left of centre to swim out into the sea. The positioning is so obvious that once you’ve realised this, you can’t unsee it each episode. I’m unsure why the star was unwilling to take a quick dip, perhaps it was too cold!
Despite the ‘demise’ of Perrin at sea clearly being the most event to which the whole tale has been heading, this is not the end of the first series. In the subsequent episode the now liberated Perrin adopts a range of, viewed through modern sensibilities, questionable regional and national stereotype-based identifies as he tries to find the new ‘him’. As a chance for Rossiter to play about with different characters and voices, some work better than others providing a foundation on which to offer a handful of jokes. Notably, much of the comedy comes from Perrin’s rising frustration as he flirts with presenting diverse assumed personas, finding each one lacking in one way or another. Clearly, creating his new life is a greater effort than Reggie might have expected
As we reach the final episode though, the first series closes with Reggie stabilising as the curly haired and bearded Martin Wellborne. Martin’s first notable act though is to return to Perrin’s old locale effectively to attend his own memorial service. It is here the former-Reggie realises a previously mentioned former paramour of Elizabeth, Henry Possett is courting her. Despite Perrin’s abandonment of his wife and old life, as Martin he resolves and surprisingly succeeds in managing to win Elizabeth back. In the process Martin also accidentally manages to be appointed to Reggie’s old position at Sunshine Desserts. Given his wife and adult daughter have unknown to Reggie, both seen through his disguise, it seems Perrin isn’t able to outsmart everyone. However, pretty much everyone else has been completely fooled. Nevertheless, as the first series closes, despite living a lie at work and at home, and effectively ensconced in previously the same work/life as he was at the outset, Perrin as Wellborne is content. He has, seemingly, achieved the domestic bliss and contentment which eluded Reginald Perrin.
Naturally, with Perrin’s iconoclastic outlook, this happy ending was never going to last. Early in the second series (first broadcast in autumn 1977), the previously largely incompetent company physical Doc Morrisey outs Wellborne as Perrin to C.J. Consequently, Reggie also ‘returns from the dead’ to his family and friends, with his daughter and wife hiding their prior awareness well. With Reggie lacking employment, Elizabeth takes up a role at Sunshine Deserts, soon becoming the recipient of unwanted attention from C.J. Perrin for his part unwilling to engage in quotidian domesticity at home, adopts a persona as a yokel and goes to work in a piggery. A situation which, like many of his previous series’ new personas doesn’t last long, although once again it is his employer’s discovery of his duplicity rather than his own actions which bring his farm hand life to an end.
Oh, and Jimmy has a suggestion for Reggie which will actually form the nucleus for Fall’s spiritual successor series in the 1980s. A masterclass of delivery from Geoffrey Palmer, hitherto dismissed mostly as Elizabeth’s scrounging, incompetent ex-army brother. Seems, he might be worth keeping an eye on after all.
Jimmy: Yeah, here we are, give me a hand Reggie.
Reggie: I’m sorry. Good God.
Jimmy: You know what those are?
Reggie: Rifles. Who on Earth are these for Jimmy?
Jimmy: Army. Quipped to fight for Britain when the balloon goes up.
Reggie: What army? What balloon? Up what? Fight against whom? Come on Jimmy, who are you going to fight against when this balloon of yours goes up.
Jimmy: Forces of anarchy, wreakers of law and order.
Reggie: I see
Jimmy: Communists, Maoists, Trotskyists, neo-Trotskyists, crypto-Trotskyists, union leaders, Communist union leaders
Reggie: I see
atheists, agnostics, long-haired weirdos, short-haired weirdos, vandals, hooligans, football supporters, namby-pamby probation officers, rapists, papists, papist rapists,
Reggie: I see.
Jimmy: Foreign surgeons – headshrinkers, who ought to be locked up, Wedgwood Benn, keg bitter, punk rock, glue-sniffers, “Play For Today”, squatters, Clive Jenkins, Roy Jenkins, Up Jenkins, up everybody’s, Chinese restaurants – why do you think Windsor Castle is ringed with Chinese restaurants?
Reggie: Yes. I see. Is that all? (Jimmy’s Offer, 1977: 22:35)
Yet, if the first series showcased the fall, the second series neatly offers us the other part of the dyad with Perrin’s seemingly unstoppable rise. This ascension is driven by an innocuous but in retrospect pivotal conversation between Reggie and Jimmy, his lackadaisical ex-army brother-in-law played to perfection by Geoffrey Palmer. The conversation focusses on Jimmy’s clearly half-baked scheme to establish a ‘private right-wing army’, which Perrin sneakily disparages. However, while he might have dismissed Jimmy’s ‘rubbish’ martial idea, which would come to fruition in a different series altogether [4], in thinking about rubbish inspires Perrin to sets up Grot: a shop which sells entirely useless things. Despite Reggie’s frank and honest admissions to customers about his products’ lack of use-value, their symbolic value soon skyrockets. As a result, Reggie soon finds himself head of a corporate empire, which dwarfs his former employer’s organisation. Indeed, Sunshine Desserts is seen to have closed down, which as a result allows Perrin to re-employ its staff, including C.J., to work for his own company.
Reggie as risen, but contrarian that he is at heart he soon tires of wealth and success. He makes efforts to sabotage his own company by hiring terrible underlings, including Jimmy, only to find each of them serve to catapult Grot to greater and greater success. Faced with a seemingly inescapable rise to, Perrin concludes to draw on one of his old ideas, and decides to fake his suicide once more to escape his success. This time though, things are different as thanks to the trials and tribulations of the past few years, Elizabeth and Reggie have grown closer than ever. Thus this time, the pair of them fake their deaths on the same beach to walk away as the second series comes to a close as ‘Mr and Mrs Hedgerow’. Yet, even in ‘death’ the Perrins realise that Reggie’s success continues unabated, as they witness dozens of other people on the shoreline faking their suicides to enter into a new life.
As Reggie and Elizabeth walk away down the country lane, the narrative arc of falling and rising is really complete. Hence, narratively speaking this is where Fall should have taken its bows. For me, the idea of Elizabeth and Reggie, finally united in a common cause, and seemingly at peace with their lives and with a strengthened marriage, walking into the sunset would have been the perfect capstone on Reggie’s misadventures. However, clearly buoyed by its success and possibly fact there really was nothing else quite like it being broadcast, the BBC wouldn’t let it lie dormant. [5]
As the star wanted the show to continue to draw on a literary basis, writer Davis Nobs produced a further novel of Perrin’s misadventures, which served as the basis for the third and final series. Likely the reason why it was two years later before it was broadcast in 1979. Gone though were the sitcom business backgrounds of Sunshine Desserts and the Grot empire. In an effort to share his ‘philosophy’ of self-realisation, Reggie becomes an activist, setting up a commune and wellness centre entitled Perrins. Thanks to at least some of this Grot-derived wealth, and through the return of the same supporting cast [6] Reggie is less selfishly now driven to make a difference in other people’s lives instead.
Reggie: This morning in the bank, darling, two men were arguing about absolutely nothing at all. They were actually going to fight each other. And I thought…cheers.
Elizabeth: Cheers. You thought?
Reggie: Oh yes. I thought. I thought why don’t I set up a community where people can learn not to argue and fight. Where people can learn to live in…in peace and…and love and happiness.
Elizabeth: Well I think that’s a wonderful idea, Reggie.
Reggie: Do you darling? That’s wonderful.
Elizabeth: Oh yes, wonderful. But what sort of community?
Reggie: Ah. [Native American Cutaway]. No. No No. (The Great Project, 1979: 04:34)
While each series of Fall has a different feel, this third series is the most complete retooling of the show, with the focus squarely now on the ensemble cast and less the personal struggles of Reggie. Sadly, unlike the more subversive nature of series one and two, this third outing tacks closer to more traditional sitcom tropes. For example, the deft and edgy cutaway fantasy elements, were reduced in the second series and are now effectively dispensed with entirely. While elements of an overarching narrative remain it is less well defined and I confess watching these final episodes felt more of a chore. That’s not to say it they were without certain charms, only far thinner on the ground.
Additionally, having witnessed Reggie’s modus operandum previously the seasoned viewer would likely assume from the outset that the Perrins’ commune would be destined to fail. Fail it most certainly does for once not as a result of Reggie’s self-mediated sabotage. Operating in contrast to the his previous arc, Perrins rising and then falls, with each character provided with a suitable exit chastened, changed or challenged by their time at the commune. As the series, and the show, draws to a close Reggie finds himself once again in need of a job, which he acquires through C.J.’s brother, F.J., with John Barron playing both roles to the hilt. The company may be different, but as we take our leave, Reginald Iolanthe Perrin is essentially back in the same kind of environment, with similar superior and junior colleagues as he had way back in the first episode. Perrin may have taken a lengthy holiday and journey of self-exploration away from the mundanities of the daily wage-slavery which makes up most people’s existence, but the series’ final message is seemingly you can’t escape it forever. Normality and necessity will resurge, even for iconoclasts and trailblazers like Reggie.
I found this, on many levels, a depressing conclusion for Reggie and David Nobbs’ efforts to explore a ‘different’ way of living and working.
So, in conclusion is Fall worth a rewatch through modern eyes? Almost certainly I would say yes for the first two series. The third I would only recommend to completists who desire the full experience.[7] Nevertheless, the show as a whole remains surprisingly laugh-out-loud funny and many if not all of the regular performances are ‘great’ or even ‘super’, even when given limited screen time. Especially kudos must go to John Barron as C.J., responsible for many of the impeccably delivered mangled metaphors and recurring catchphrase lines such as ‘Neither Mrs C.J and nor I have ever…’ or ‘We’re not one of those dreadful firms…’. Definitive statements which his subsequent actions often swiftly discredit! Then again, I guess he didn’t get where he is today without being a duplicitous boss!
I should highlight more than a handful of jokes and attitudes displayed in some episodes might be classed as ‘of their era’. That is to say, the more sensitive viewer might be forewarned not to be in the middle of sipping their tea to avoid an inadvertent spit-take. One visual joke in particular during the final series, concerning how Perrin and co can more readily acquire property by scaring the neighbours off, had my jaw on the floor. I like to think I’m fairly thick skinned, but this was a bit much even for my sensitivities. Hence, Fall might have been ahead of its time in doing something innovative within an ostensible sitcom format, but at times its epistemic qualities are evident. So, if you do watch, watch it with an expectation to be periodically shocked, appalled or even outraged: depending on personal sensitivities.
Finally, then, what message are we then to take from Fall? Is it, like Office Space that ‘work sucks’? Is it the time-honoured concept that the more things change the more they stay the same? Or is it how truly effecting personal life change is impossible or even ill-advised and will cause disruption for your nearest and dearest? Just maybe given the recurrence of the same people and their archetypes throughout Fall’s three series, could it be Sartre’s classic suggestion that ‘hell is other people’. Perhaps Reggie did die way back in series one and everything else we have seen is his own personal hell grinding him down and making him conform? That would be a terribly depressing outcome to take away, but personally despite the sporadic metaphysical cutaway fantasy sequences, Fall is clearly grounded in reality not fantasy.
So maybe the message is, wherever you go – there you are. Reggie might be back, for all intents and purposes, essentially where he started, for a third ride on the corporate wheel, but his exploits and experiences have enriched him. He might still be making the daily commute, from the same house, to work with the same kinds of people, within a similar upper management role, but at least he is happier inside.
Hence, I would argue the final message from Fall is make what you will of your life. Your experiences and the impact you have on the people around you do matter, even if in long run the day job doesn’t really matter. Friends, family, inner peace and contentment: that’s what will get you through your days.
So, yeah, in the final analysis The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin turns out to be life affirming rather than nihilistic! And that’s not something I thought I’d be able to say.
Bibliography
Hippopotamus, 1976. The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, Episode 1, Series 1, 8 September. https://youtu.be/XS7VWQfelyM.
Nightmare in the Park, 1976. The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, Episode 2, Series1, 15 September. https://youtu.be/xlu_LyIMUgA.
The Bizarre Dinner Party, 1976. The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, Episode 4, Series 1, 29 September. https://youtu.be/ld1EhamrwIM.
The Speech to the British Fruit Association, 1976. The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, Episode 5, Series 1, 6 October. https://youtu.be/ebilr8wsC0w.
Jimmy’s Offer, 1977. The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, Episode 3, Series 2, 5 October. https://youtu.be/ywmb_Nr2xmo.
The Great Project, 1978. The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, Episode 1, Series 3, 29 November. https://youtu.be/jIC5DVnyLEY.
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Endnotes
[1] Rossiter reportedly was only interested in continuing Perrin’s adventures where they were taken from the novels, which required Nobbs to pop out a couple of additional volumes to adapt for the second and third series. With, as noted above, somewhat diminishing returns.
[2] I may have to see if I can find this to watch, although I do recall latterly watching some episodes of this, which is odd as we were a primarily ‘BBC’ watching family at the time.
[3] Yes Joan seems receptive to these overtures, especially given the bedroom hoping antics of episode three. All the same, watched through the lens of modernity, in the #MeToo era, Perrin’s actions are at best questionable and at worst legally actionable. Even a bit squicky, really. Mind you, one wonders if Sunshine Desserts has a competent personnel or HR department one could go to, based on who they’ve employed in their medical officer role.
[4] Fairly Secret Army is Fall’s spiritual successor, and I’ll talk about this forgotten gem in my next post.
[5] The aforementioned The Good Life shared some of Fall’s core themes of ‘work is hell’, a theme redolent in many sitcoms and movies before and hence, but the elements of surrealism and flights of fancy, the strong overacting narrative of the two series of Fall and as I’ve noted, the subversion of the catchphrase heavy sitcom trappings make it more iconic. Or at least, iconoclastic. By contrast The Good Life is charming, whimsey with elements of bathos and pathos alike, and I say this as a fan of the show and its impeccable cast, tacked closer to the traditional sitcom episodic and comedic tropes.
[6] Although his son-in-law Tom was now played by a different actor due to availability issues.
[7] I’m aware there’s a 1990s sequel series, The Legacy of Reginald Perrin. I shall eventually watch this to see how 20 years, and the loss of the titular lead character, make for a different show. I won’t though be re-watching the Martin Clunes remake (2009-2010) of the original as I saw that on first broadcast and have no wish to relive that experience.