Spaced, the 1999-2001 gem from Channel 4/BBC America, is worthy of praise for many reasons. Long before The Guild, Comic Book Men, or Community have come along to celebrate and self-deprecate nerd culture of all kinds, Spaced crafted some of the most elaborate comic and niche culture parodies on television. But it never is bogged down by such references – writers Simon Pegg and Jessica Hynes (then Jessica Stevenson) and director Edgar Wright have constructed a unique (to say the least) band of characters that embark on bard-worthy tales in their own right.
However, what sets Spaced apart for me is how well the cast and crew know their strengths and limitations, and how they work within those parameters. From the simply structural – that this series is only fourteen episodes long, to the overall themes – not taking life too seriously, supporting your crazy ass friends through thick and thin - this series knows exactly what it wants to say and how to say it. It’s especially worth recognizing when this fundamental awareness is so often lacking in television series, let alone most sitcoms, airing today.
As with any good story, we should start with the beginning, and by that I mean the initial set-up of our series. Our two heroes, aspiring writer Daisy (Jessica Hynes) and comic book artist Tim (Simon Pegg), complete strangers at the start of the series, find themselves abandoned by their significant others and without homes to go to. One jauntily-scored montage later, these two crazy kids meet and become friends, and they find an ad for an affordable apartment. But TWIST! The ad calls for “professional couples” only, and so in order to secure and remain living in the apartment, the two must pretend to be in a long-term relationship for their new landlady, Marsha (Julia Deakin). Cue ensuing wacky hijinks!
Sounds like a typical set-up for a sitcom: either Tim and Daisy maintain the fauxmance or get kicked out of their only desirable source for shelter. Yet why it works particularly well here is how it plays out throughout the series. It provides enough material for the first few episodes of the first season (Daisy in particular commits to their ruse via a housewarming party and a new dog), and helps introduce us to the other characters in their world. But as we get to know the characters, the ruse falls from the focus of the series, instead becoming a source of tension that can be sustained across episodes.
It doesn’t become a crutch for the series, though, as it might for a lesser series. As the show progresses, what tension it causes changes. Tim and Daisy grow closer, as they get stoned together and have finger-gun fights with local hooligans. Thus the lines between their relationship become blurry, and their ‘marriage’ of convenience adds just another layer of confusion. Likewise, Marsha is wedged into their band of misfits, and lying to her about their relationship gradually becomes distasteful for her sake and their friendship with her.
SPOILER ALERT (I write this, but ultimately Spaced is one of those shows for which I could spoil every plot point and still never fully capture what happens on screen. So read on, spoiler-averse).
The issue is ultimately resolved in the last episode, and it is done appropriately – which, in Spaced’s case means that involved are an army tank and Take That’s “Back for Good” blaring on a boom box, Say Anything-style. Marsha learns the truth in the penultimate episode, and Tim finds out in the finale that Marsha is selling the building (strictly for financial reasons, of course). What Pegg and Hynes craft so well is a resolution to this issue that maneuvers the Scylla and Charybdis of sitcom finales: Tim and his fellow mischief makers Mike (the adorkable Nick Frost) and Brian (Mark Heap) are actually forced to humble themselves and be sincere, and yet they do so without being melodramatic. Tim tries to merely talk Marsha out of selling the building, but in the face of her humiliation and the financial windfall she makes by selling, the half-hearted talk about her being an aunt to him isn’t going to cut it. So finally, the boys pull out the big guns (literally), and set their apology (banner) to music. It is a resolution that is needed for the sake of the narrative, yet it is appropriately heartfelt and ridiculous.
The reason that this ending works so well is in part because Pegg and Hynes knew how long to make the series in the first place, and they were allowed to end it at that point. The biggest vice of American sitcoms is that they keep generating new episodes long after they have run out of steam. Just look at what has become of the American version of The Office, which is now in its eighth season – where is the quiet, astute observer of mid-level office employment hell that it once was? Had it been allowed to end, or had the writers known to end it, after the same number of episodes of its British counterpart, it wouldn’t be fizzling out so tragically as it is now.
Yet like The Office (UK), Spaced concludes after only fourteen episodes. Both series begin with premises that interesting, heretofore unexplored territory on television, but are premises that don’t lend themselves well to growth. Spaced portrays the lives of listless, relatively ambitious-less twenty- and thirty-somethings who have unique views on what will make them happy, or at least satisfied. These characters may learn to see each other in new ways, and may go on fun adventures, but their lives aren’t going to drastically change as they challenge themselves to become better people – Tim may aspire to get a job at Dark Star Comics and fall in love, but most of his desires are satisfied by playing videogames, clubbing, and getting high and watching TV with Daisy and Brian. That’s not a judgment of his value of a character, or any of the characters on this show, but merely an observation that there are only so many of their stories to tell that will be new and interesting. Thus, Pegg and Hynes smartly limited the series to a quick yet astute two seasons – they gave to their audience a satisfying conclusion that still left them wanting more.
There are a million-and-one reasons I could list off for recommending this series. Pot humor? Absolutely. References to everything from The Matrix to Fatal Attraction to Buffy? Hells to the yes! Said references actually being funny? YES, and that is an important distinction to make. But ultimately what makes it worth watching ten years later is just how smartly and lovingly crafted it is.
So to sum up this post: WHY THE F*CK HAVEN’T YOU WATCHED SPACED YET? THEY EVEN HAVE A FINGER GUN FIGHT!
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