From Nashville to Louis CK, the Americans - and their sitcoms - are coming

At last, Amy Poehler's Parks and Recreation is heading to our screens - one of a host of great US dramas and comedies heading our way next year.

As far back as last summer, there was a buzz of tired happiness: “Finally,” we all screamed inwardly but also inevitably on Twitter, “it looks like BBC4 has acquired Parks and Recreation!” It was confirmed a few months later, and now, finally, the small band of Knope-lovers can sit with bated breath and watch our loved ones fall under the spell of Amy Poehler and her incredibly sincere and immensely funny ensemble cast.

Parks and Recreation is superb: it is one of my favourite American sitcoms of recent years, sitting very comfortably among the – very diverse –greats of the last couple of decades: Cheers, Frasier, Friends, Community, Seinfeld etc. But while it is one of the higher-profile and long-awaited acquisitions coming over to the UK in next year, it is by no means the only one. So what can you expect in the early part of 2013? There are a few gems, some honourable mentions, and a couple of DOAs. Let’s take a look at a few of the more interesting options.

Louis C.K. has engendered the kind of wild affection that only certain comics get after they’ve popped their clogs, so of course everyone is looking forward to his sitcom Louie (he created, writes, directs and edits the show), in which the stand up plays a stand up and is consistently, darkly funny. I caught up with the show after a recommendation from an internet-turned-real-life friend, and I am so excited it is finally crossing over.

If you’re looking for fine insights into the human condition, check it out on FX in January. (Enjoy a little dose of C.K. in the parody sketch of the show he made for Saturday Night Live back in November; Louie become Abraham Lincoln, and it was splendid). 

E4’s bought a couple of big, flashy American comedies, The New Normal and The Mindy Project. They’re both... okay. Much was expected of Mindy (Kaling, the terrifyingly talented former head writer at the American version of The Office), and she more or less delivers. The characters are taking a little time to find their feet, but it has a good gag rate, and a cast that’s easy on the eyes. The second import has the bigger potential in terms of garnering a big audience fast: Normal is a comedy about America’s changing demographics – in this case, a gay couple (Justin Bartha and Andrew Rannells) and their surrogate, a single mother from small town Ohio. Ellen Barkin plays her no holds barred conservative (read ‘offensively unfunny’) grandmother. If you need more convincing/dissuading, it’s from the people who brought you Glee

ITV2 refuses to be left behind and has bought its own series for January broadcast too. Up All Night, starring comedy big hitters Christina Applegate (hopefully reprising her role in newly confirmed Anchorman 2), SNL alumni Maya Rudolph and Arrested Development veteran Will Arnett. It’s basically traditional single camera sitcom, focusing on Applegate’s return to the workplace after taking time off to have a baby. Quick review: it’s solid, but for a show with such pedigree, it oddly lacks zing. You’ll enjoy it, I wager, but you won’t belly laugh, which is a shame.

More successfully made is Fox’s Ben and Kate, starring Dakota Johnson (daughter of Melanie Griffith and Don ‘Miami Vice’ Johnson) and Oscar-winner Nat Faxon (he co-wrote the screenplay for The Descendants) as a brother and sister renegotiating their relationship after he unexpectedly returns to town. There’s a delightful supporting cast, not least the sweetest child actor ever, as well as the siblings’ best friends played by Echo Kellum and the very, very talented and reliable Lucy Punch. I have heard bad things about this show’s ratings, which doesn’t bode well for its longevity but I hope it finds a home because it is an assured, very funny and immediately likeable little show. 

More4 has shown its class in previous years with its acquisitions (The Good Wife, The Big C, and Scandal among others), and it tries to continue its hot streak with Nashville and Boss. An early disclaimer: Boss has just been cancelled after two seasons in the US (with rumours of a film to tie up all remaining loose ends), but it stars an on form Kelsey Grammer as a Chicago politician dealing with his city’s needs – alongside a new diagnosis of dementia. Now that’s a premise. Precious few traces of Dr Frasier Crane are to be found here, and it’s not a bad thing because he’s a compelling dramatic actor.

Nashville is unsurprisingly, about country music, but only in the way that Friday Night Lights was about football. That was a (tenuous) link to reveal that it stars Connie Britton, formerly of FNL’s Dillon, Texas, and owner of the prettiest hair on television, who plays a fading country and western star usurped by young blonde upstart Hayden Panetierre. It’s not going to blow you away, but it is mostly well-observed light drama. The promo also featured the quiet, resigned zinger: “thank God for autotune,” which earns it at least an hour of grumpy watching. 

Other good news:  E4’s superior comedies Happy Endings and New Girl (which just keeps on getting better) are coming back, as is Archer and then later in the year, Justified (5USA). Less happy news is that no one’s picked up Parenthood, which has been one of my favourite series of recent years. You could argue that this is a reminder that we can’t have everything we want (which is just the right kind of lesson an episode of Parenthood would deliver, over a swelling indie soundtrack). Roll on 2013!

Nashville

Bim Adewunmi writes about race, feminism and popular culture. Her blog is  yorubagirldancing.com and you can find her on Twitter as @bimadew.

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Clive James’s intriguing poetic response to Proust

What is James trying to do? He jokes that he has made a good living out of dying.

Baudelaire once wrote that “the best review of a painting might be a sonnet or an elegy”, and it is liberating to think that we can all respond to art with art. This isn’t just because it bypasses the airspace of criticism, but because art liberates something of the artist in ourselves. Baudelaire also knew that thinking needed to be rescued from academicians and from official culture.

Clive James’s verse commentary on Proust would make sense to Baudelaire. As James says in his preface: “I had always thought that the critical essay and the poem were closely related forms.” This is a very old thing to say, but perhaps now, when poetry is so marginal and introspective, is the right new time to be saying it. Part of the problem with saying that art should respond to art is the countervailing belief that great art should be in some way unanswerable. In short, what is the point of a short free-verse book on Á la recherche du temps perdu? Who’s it for? What’s it for? There is also something defiantly retro about the title (A Verse Commentary), evoking those chalk-dust-covered Latin schoolbooks we see in black-and-white films. But there’s a difference: usually the commentary is in prose and it’s longer than the poem; here, the commentary is in verse and it’s shorter (by a ratio of roughly 90:1) than the prose.

So, what is James trying to do? He jokes that he has made a good living out of dying. He has been prolific: his recent output – two books of criticism, a Collected Poems, a translation of Dante, and now this – is part of a great burst of late fruition. This book is not as slight as it looks, nor indeed as dependent on its pretext (Proust) as it appears. It is not a commentary in any but the vaguest sense, and is full of skittering side references to the world beyond Proust.

The book opens with a nice representation of Á la recherche as being “only” a structure in the sense that “Gaudi’s cathedral in Barcelona/And the weird Watts Towers in Los Angeles –/Eclectic stalagmites of junk – are structures”. You can enjoy what James is saying here without agreeing with the comparison, because he is cleverly taking up the idea of architecture as “frozen music” and inviting us to think of Proust’s novel, in all its great, ramifying spread, as something organic, something made of time as well as being “about” Time. Besides, in the next lines, he adjusts the tone by evoking “the sandcastle you helped your daughters build/Before you sat with them to watch the sea/Dismantle it and smooth it out and take it/Back down to where it came from”.

This is a moving switch, because it reminds us that there is something bleak and dark at the centre of Proust, and that beneath the tulle, the tisane and the taffeta is the great, annihilating sweep of time. James is also very good on what we often forget about Proust: his economy, his way of connecting up the world, seeing how it coheres and fits together. Seen from the point of view of what it leads out to and not what it “contains”, Á la recherche is quite a short book. James knows this, and is alive to the way in which metaphor holds Proust’s world and work together. Metaphor is language’s great two-for-one offer and he notices the reverbarative range of Proust’s seemingly trivial images, the way it all comes “[f]laring to life from a mixed metaphor”.

James also knows that so much of our memory and identity is dormant and untapped. He puts it beautifully when he writes how Proust, “famous for seeing how we bring to mind/The past, [ . . . ] also sees how we do not”, and how the bright moments we retrieve are “balanced by dark blots we know are there/Only because of how they do not shine”. There are many instances where he pulls out critical insights that, though not necessarily new, feel new because they are so well put. Their value lies also in being not just about Proust, but about Proust’s subject, which in a sense is the only subject there is.

For a short work, Gate of Lilacs nonetheless has a few longueurs, not least when plot summaries or historical and political context are poured into the joins of the poem like a sort of textbook cement. As someone who finds James’s usual poetry – with its seat-belt-click of formalism and its fondness for witty sententiae – too much like his TV voice, I found this book graceful in its thought, moving in its insights, and often written with a fluidity that makes me wish he had done more of this sort of thing. I’ll also put it on my students’ reading list to remind them that, whatever the universities tell us, we can’t understand something until we have responded to it creatively.

Patrick McGuinness is Professor of French and Comparative Literature at St Anne’s College, Oxford

Gate of Lilacs: a Verse Commentary on Proust by Clive James is published by Picador (112pp, £14.99)

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad