"Derek" makes Louise too sad to function

I’m not a Ricky Gervais fan.  I find his standup more painful than funny, and while I realize that’s the point, it’s not the sort of comedy I enjoy watching.  Because of this, I wasn’t planning to watch Derek, Gervais’s new series about a middle-aged bachelor who’s possibly autistic and works in a nursing home.

Then I saw the poster.

LOOK AT IT.  LOOK AT IT AND FEEL THINGS.

Oh my goodness.  What is it about this poster?  Derek, the title character of this series, is a kind, hardworking, socially incompetent, loving, and everything you need to know about him can probably be gleaned from this poster.  He is awkward.  He wears Fair Isle sweaters.  His jaw protrudes.  He lives a simple, unrewarded life that is entirely characterized by his loving devotion to the elderly patients residing in his retirement home.  Are you still looking at this poster?  The way you feel right now is the way you’ll feel while watching the show: inexplicably, excruciatingly sad but still weirdly intrigued.

I have a tendency to get sucked into comedy shows I don’t find particularly funny, such as Parks and Recreation, simply because I’m enthralled by the characters.  This is why I watched the first three episodes of Derek.  Derek’s moral code is simple: be kind, because it’s more important to be kind than to be clever or good-looking, and the other lonely, odd people he works with are surprisingly supportive of his worldview.  His coworkers, who are more aware of the “smallness” of their lives and seem to feel the loneliness of their occupation more deeply than Derek, treat him with kindness, and speak with admiration of his character.  In the world of television, where everyone is sexy, and success is defined by style and money, this dynamic of homely people loving and caring for homely people is oddly subversive and unfamiliar, and was enough to hold my attention.

Surprisingly, given the show’s writer and star, Derek does tend toward schmaltz, which grows tiresome and overblown.  The supporting casts’ laudatory speeches about Derek tend toward hagiography.  A lot of characters deliver lines that are variations of “Derek is the best human I have ever met in my life.”  The show’s soundtrack is a loose collection of songs composed for Piano for Elevators (citation needed), and it wafts over montages of old people doing sad, old people things, like playing cards, napping, and having their hair brushed.  Yes, nursing homes can be sad, lonely places, but these scenes of sad music and mundane living excessively highlight the saintliness of the cast.  Derek borders on an updated version of the “noble savage” archetype; his mental handicap gives him an innocence and kindness that is ennobling, but vaguely condescending.

That said, I’m recommending Derek with reservation.  It’s an interesting, well-done character study, though not particularly funny and not particularly subtle.  Basically, if you want to wallow in unspeakable, inarticulable sadness for seven hours, then we have the pick for you.

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