Given how most of the premiere plays out, I wasn’t expecting any guns. The big moment towards the end of the episode is Rani going out of her way to help Christian steal a holdall from a trap house that might endanger herself and her whole family. The Outlaws is obviously trying to tiptoe along this line between exaggerated comedy and serious drama, and it’s surprising how well it manages that feat, in dialogue and action. John complaining that he isn’t a Jihadi bride when he’s forced to go through the metal detector another time doesn’t have the mean-spirited sting it might Greg’s “Bodger that” line, when he’s told to dispose of a dead badger, is just perfectly delivered. The writing is very funny and sometimes silly, but it’s also just naturalistic enough that you feel like these people are very funny, on their own terms and not on behalf of the script, which is a charming trait. Christian is especially compelling, but everyone is more human and complex than first appearances suggest, and it means that everyone is difficult to dislike, even if they’re trying their best to make you dislike them. The Outlaws episode 1 is, predictably, about introducing these characters, giving hints of their personalities and backstories, and then beginning to paint them outside the lines of whatever genre archetype they’re supposed to embody. That leaves Christopher Walken playing something of a detached loner in Frank, an ex-con living with his estranged and resentful daughter, Eleanor Tomlinson as social media influencer Gabby, and Merchant himself ambling along as Greg, a lanky divorced lawyer who’s a bit of a loser even among this mob. John (Darren Boyd), a right-wing Bristolian businessman who keeps banging on about the liberal left, is squared off against Myrna (Clare Perkins), a militant Black activist, mostly so they can argue about social politics. That quasi-protagonist is Rani (Rhianne Barreto), the “studious Asian good girl” who’s secretly a kleptomaniac and takes an immediate shine to Christian (Gamba Cole), the good-hearted “bad boy” who is trying with all his might to keep his younger sister safe from the gang that controls their estate. It starts out as a culture-clash comedy and morphs, by the end of the premiere, into a legitimately dramatic thriller. Everyone’s a broad type, which the closest thing to a POV character explains out loud at one point, but they’re all hiding hidden depths and nuances brought to light by both the clever writing and the performances. Seven people from various backgrounds – and for various crimes – are forced to carry out community service in Merchant’s native Bristol (he apparently got the idea for the show from his parents). The premise, cooked up by Merchant and co-writer Elgin James, is simple enough. There’s no wonder a second season has already been greenlit. All of this is to say that The Outlaws is very good indeed. He’s funny and self-deprecating, but also smart, observant, and empathetic. His new show, the six-part crime comedy The Outlaws, which is airing on the BBC in Blighty and on Amazon Prime Video internationally, is a very different prospect but exhibits the same sense of sneaky genius that threads through all of Merchant’s comedy as far back as the XFM days. His Fighting With My Family was a warm and affectionate look at a family of British wrestlers trying to make it overseas.
But his recent work compared with that of long-time creative partner Ricky Gervais suggests he might have been the brains of the operation all along. Stephen Merchant is perhaps best known as the less-successful half of the partnership that brought us The Office, Extras, and numerous other collaborative comedy projects from podcasts to audiobooks and radio shows. This recap of The Outlaws season 1, episode 1 contains spoilers. Smart, funny, and surprisingly dramatic, Stephen Merchant’s The Outlaws is a winner.
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