The Man from UNCLE

Cult TV is a loaded term that is often used to excuse sub-standard entertainment or programmes that have limited appeal. Since it moved to an on-line only channel, BBC3 has pretty much specialised in cult TV programmes. However, most of its product is watchable, innovative and intelligent with a few of the programmes crossing over into the mainstream terrestrial channels provided by the BBC.

One such programme is ‘Uncle’ which began its life as a BBC 3 series some 3 years ago when its star, Nick Helm, was just emerging as a major comedy performer. It followed a dysfunctional family’s brother and sister as they tried to pick their way through the various rubble left by failed relationships and the sort of questionable lifestyle choices that we all make when we reach our 30’s and realise that we are simultaneously, a) free to do whatever we want to and, b) expected to behave as a conventional role model for our juniors. Andy and Sam, played by Helm and Daisy Haggard, bounce perfectly off each other by combining that perfect combination of love and irritation that most siblings have for each other. It was Eric Sykes who spotted in his 60’s & 70’s sitcom with Hattie Jaques that the chemistry underlying a brother and sister relationship was a far richer one than that of a husband and wife. The writers, Oliver Refson and Lilah Vandenburgh, then added a child, the precocious Errol, to act as Andy’s conscience. Errol, Jiminy Crickets through Andy’s life providing, often untimely, reminders that, whilst Andy has no personal responsibilities such as children, a home or a job, he has a duty to himself to follow his instincts as a musician, but not over the edge of every cliff.

Early episodes focussed on Andy’s quest for love and saw him destined to always end up as the central figure in another tragic love song, but this final series has been more of an examination of his relationship with his family, featuring his Mum and Dad, his ex and future brother-in-law and, of course, his now adolescent nephew Errol.  This shift of emphasis worked perfectly because we sort of always knew that Andy would get his fair share of women, younger, older, crazy, neurotic and erotic, they have all featured somewhere along the line. His character, perfectly in tune with Helm’s alter ego seen in many guises on stage and screen over the years, is extreme in the extreme. If we recognise the expression ‘a butterfly mind’, Helm’s mind is more of a beehive, with a million individual moving parts that work together to produce a personality that can exude musical honey or attack with deadly force. He is an enigma, not so much a split personality as a fragmented one with each piece capable of utter genius or outstanding stupidity. Women will come and go and sexual relationships will succeed and fail but it is the relationships that he is stuck with that are the most fascinating.

The last episode saw Andy finally successful to a degree as a musician and as a rounded individual. Able to buy a car and a flat and feeling valued as a brother and an uncle we felt glad that his life seemed to have taken a more satisfying turn without necessarily seeing him sailing into the sunset on a luxury yacht. It was a sweet ending rather than a happy ending and left us feeling uplifted and a little teary. Hopefully, this really is to be the last we see of Uncle Andy and Errol because, though it is a sad day for TV comedy, it will release the writers to create something even more wonderful for the cast they have assembled.  

Elliot Speller-Gillott, as Errol, will feature in our lives for many years to come, he is a talent worthy of respect, turning his nerdy and somewhat tortured character into one of the coolest teenage creations since Marty McFly. His well-written lines were delivered with an effortless assurance and proved that the secret of making a character believable is to appear to be listening and reacting to other people, rather than just standing waiting to speak.

Nick Helm is a class act and a very classy actor. The dialogue in “Uncle” was often a little ‘wordy’ and some of the characters struggled with this. Helm always maintained the demeanour of someone diffusing a bomb for the first time, never knowing if this was the sentence that was going to blow him to kingdom-come. The songs from the series which, I assume, were self-penned were mini masterpieces in themselves, rich in parody, both lyrically and musically, and perfectly in context. The remarkable thing about his songs is that, although Helm’s voice sounds like someone dragging a rusty lawnmower up a gravel drive, they can at once make you laugh, weep and wonder why you didn’t write them some years ago when you felt exactly the same about life.