Hard Cell review: Catherine Tate's prison comedy is too much, too late
Catherine Tate's new Netflix series is light on laughs, heavy on everything else.
Do you like poo jokes? If the answer's no, maybe give Hard Cell a miss. Even if the answer's sometimes, depending on the context, you might struggle. Only if the answer's an emphatic yes are the first two episodes of Catherine Tate's new Netflix comedy likely to float your boat.
There's a gag about a woman suffering from diarrhoea in her cell toilet as her cellmate does a piece to camera; there's a whole episode about the plumbing going haywire; there's a long running joke about one character trying to get another to say "number two" on camera. All put together, it's just too much.
Which could be said of the series as a whole. The mockumentary focuses on a fictional female prison, HMP Woldsley, exploring the lives of its Governor Laura (played by Tate in the Hard Cell cast), its guards (one of which is played by Tate) and its inmates (yep, you guessed it, multiple of which are played by Tate). Laura, who comes from an events background, believes that creativity leads to rehabilitation and hires ex-Eastender’s star Cheryl Fergison (playing herself here) to direct the inmates in a musical.
I have to point out here that the series does get better as it goes along - characters are fleshed out, the plot advances and the comedy takes somewhat of a welcome backseat to the drama. But those early episodes are a tough watch, with every joke being heavily signposted and then mined to oblivion for all its worth. At times this become cringe comedy, minus the comedy.
A central joke in the first two episodes features Fergison being repeatedly called by her EastEnders character name Heather - a bit that worked perfectly well for Shaun Williamson (or Barry) in Ricky Gervais' 2005 sitcom Extras. The problems are that one, all of the characters here find it hilarious, actively diminishing its impact, and two, that was in 2005. Everything about this series feels late, from the characters engaging in a sing-a-long of Just One Cornetto to the mockumentary "can you believe this?" looks to camera.
It also never manages to fully utilise its prison setting, other than as a way to have a group of mostly female characters interact. Laura's central belief that creativity leads to rehabilitation is redundant here because other than a couple of essentially just moody, growly inmates, none of the characters are actually that in need of redeeming. They keep talking about all the violent crimes they've done and how this in their nature, but they never really do display these tendencies. It's clear that Tate was going more for a community centre vibe, which does fit with Laura's ethos, but it feels like a wasted opportunity, both comedically and dramatically, not to have the characters behave more like, well, criminals.
Tate fully commits to all of her characters and gives strong performances as each, but how effectively they work as comedy creations varies. Laura has her moments and is well used dramatically later in the series, but is the key offender when it comes to cringe moments where the joke just doesn't land. Timid, innocent inmate Ange is one-note and used more in service of the larger story, while the tough, unpredictable Big Viv is, for the most part, grating.
Tate's best characters are as Irish inmate Ros who loves her "Mammy" (also Tate) and is duping her naive penpal boyfriend Sebastian, and guard Marco. It's particularly apparent in moments with the latter that the comedy is starting to work - his sarcastic musings feel less forced and played up than with other characters. There's a sense he's the one creation that Tate and the rest of the creatives believe is genuinely funny without having to go as broad as possible to mine for laughs.
There are parts of this series that do work well. One storyline about a couple (Cal and Sal) who found love in the prison and have no desire to leave is genuinely heartwarming, and is made all the better for not being played with a wink or a nudge. Similarly, Jola Olajide puts in sterling work as pregnant inmate Charlee. These storylines are, for the most part, taken entirely seriously, and it means that when these characters do have fun they're more effortlessly funny.
One can imagine a world in which a potential second season hones in on elements like this that work, ditches the forced potty humour and increases the gag rate so that every joke doesn't have to be so drawn out. Only time will tell. But regardless of all this, Tate devotees will most likely fall in love with this world and these characters, and here's hoping they do. This series will find its fans, of that I'm sure. It just can't, as of yet, count me among them.
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Hard Cell is available to stream on Netflix from Tuesday 12th April 2022. Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide to see what's on tonight.
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Authors
James Hibbs is a Drama Writer for Radio Times, covering programmes across both streaming platforms and linear channels. He previously worked in PR, first for a B2B agency and subsequently for international TV production company Fremantle. He possesses a BA in English and Theatre Studies and an NCTJ Level 5 Diploma in Journalism.
