Brett wins in a game of Britain versus America
It doesn’t take much for British Jews to embrace one of our own in their success. It doesn’t take much for British standups to reject one of our own in their success. You’d understand then, that being a British Jewish standup, this reviewer might be conflicted when it comes to fellow British Jewish standup Brett Goldstein and his Emmy win for Best Supporting Character in the sitcom Ted Lasso.
“How come this guy, who just a few years ago was gigging to drunk tourists in the same sweaty basement as you, is now an international breakout star on an international breakout TV show?” I can exclusively reveal here, that it’s because he’s a MONSTER! When I think about all the people he’s crushed in his rise to the top. All the betrayal and backstabbing and… arghhh, fine. Brett’s very nice. And charming and talented and works hard. Which is disheartening. Because it means I’ve been focusing on all the wrong qualities.
If only I’d had someone like Coach Lasso. I guess a lot of people could do with a Coach Lasso, and now, all you’ve got do to get one is subscribe to Apple TV+. We’re nearing the end of the second season but in the first, Ted, barely contained in the form of Saturday Night Live alumni Jason Sudeikis, is bought to the UK after successfully coaching American football, for the helmetless variety at AFC Richmond. That it’s a revenge ploy by the team’s new owner, an unrecognisable Hannah Waddingham from Game of Thrones, backfires as Ted bulldozes through each obstacle in his onslaught of winning over everyone to see the world his way. Then maybe the team can get on with some actual winning.
Heading that team is Brett as Roy Kent, hard man with a heart of grit. A standout character in an ensemble cast of standout characters, you can see why a sports teams is a great setting for a sitcom. But don’t make the mistake as I did of initially dismissing this as a comedy about football. The only reason I streamed in was to judge, I mean, support Brett, but what it’s really about is a battle of attitudes. It’s cynicism versus positivity. It’s Britain versus America. It’s outcome versus attempt. And in its success it’s become a parable of itself.
I’m sure the show would’ve been a hit regardless, but that it’s blown up so far so fast, illustrates how for some unknown reason, audiences on both sides of the Atlantic and beyond must’ve been desperate for a feelgood comedy. Which is arguably the most difficult kind of comedy to pull off. Making people laugh and critics happy, all with an unashamedly positive demeanour is a tricky feat; like the titular character, being nice can be misconstrued as simple, sweet underestimated as cliched. It’s a fine balance, too much sweetness can make you sick, especially for those of us who are lachrymose intolerant. Yet Ted Lasso manages to dance about on the tripwire, deftly defying mawkishness and sentimentality with a knowing quip and a narrative
twirl.