Revisiting Crapston Villas (while actually sober)

So recently, I played the Silent Hill 2 remake (really enjoyed it, a nicely done update of an old favourite) and while scrambling about in the flats, something emerged from the dusty caverns of long-buried memories: namely this stop-motion animated cat, lurking in the sallow light of a knackered hallway with blood dripping from his jaws. Quite the sight. Look upon him!!!

To be honest, if it were a toss-up between the cat and Pyramid Head, yeah, I'd rather take me chances with the Traffic Cone Twat, thank you.

So as it was, the only other things I could remember about Crapston Villas were an homage to that one King Crimson album, a scene involving a horrific-looking fish, there was a lot of gallows humour and the fact that I was howlingly drunk on questionable ale when I watched it (this was around 2013.) Incidentally, it seems to be a running theme with people that I've talked to over the years, whenever the topic of Newcastle Brown comes up, someone always has a story about vomiting as a result of it. I'm curious, is this is a thing in general or is it just a coincidence, encountering all these people who have specifically shot chunder as a result of the broon?

Anyway. I don't drink anymore nowadays (barring occasional sauvignon blanc when I'm making a risotto because what else are you supposed to do with the leftover wine?!) and wanted to revisit Crapston Villas to see how it holds up. My snapshot memories of it were fond, but being plastered can and often does grease the wheels with things, so now it's time to consider this show without the aid of shit ale. How will it fare?

Before we get into more detail, it'd be remiss of me not to mention the fact that overall, the show hasn't aged well, particularly in terms of dodgy stereotypes. It's from the '90s, it's very much a product of its time and you just have to take that into account when considering any media, really. It's intended as satire and the audience doesn't have a viewpoint spoonfed to them. Rather the show feels like it's rolling around in the coarser aspects of humanity without being didactic on the matter and allowing the audience to glean the social commentary under their own steam. Kinda like a Pierre Lemaitre novel but noone gets assaulted with a kitchen knife and then left outside with their head hanging off by the vertebrae (Le Serpent Majuscule was some strong meat, to say the least...) It's also balanced in places with more sympathetic character moments, pretty much everyone here is a highly exaggerated caricature but they have ups and downs that make them feel more human in places. Ultimately, it's the overemphasised ugliness that takes centre stage, though. The aforementioned cat, name of Fatso (again, it was the '90s), actually sums this up neatly - he's beastly on the surface and is often violent, but he does show some tender and playful moments... usually mere seconds before he flips back around to mauling people, pissing, vomiting or stealing all the bedding. See, even the cats are getting stereotyped here!

The first episode dives right in at the deep end and sets the tone for the whole show; it's wild, initially disjointed and a bit aimless in places with some plots coming to fruition down the line and others unceremoniously fizzling out. It takes two or three episodes to find its stride and for the various strands of the plot to start flowing, but given that each episode is only 10 minutes long, it's a pretty quick litmus test to work out whether or not to you want to stick with it.

The humour throughout the show is raw and jagged; there's a lot of violence and grotesquery; everyone goes for the most ludicrous solution to any problem that arises and all of that is liable to be pretty marmite, naturally. Personally, I'm all about surreal, chaotic and absurdist comedy, gallows humour too, and slapstick? Yes, please! So this does tick a fair few boxes for me. From the second episode onwards, a different character from the show gives a recap of the previous one, which is a good lark; it offers a little more insight into everyone's viewpoints and personalities and it softens the edges of the darkness throughout the show, when what was a striking moment in one episode is then recounted in an often dismissive and blunt fashion in the next. In the second series, the recaps are done by a couple of people speaking in proper exaggerated OOH-AHRR West Country ahrrcents, and in one of them there's the line "Cor, it's all just drugs and sex!" - nice bit of self-awareness there.

The animation is the main draw here; I've always loved claymation because of its tangible quality, that uncanny aspect to it, and the overall craftsmanship involved. In this case, it complements the over-the-top humour well; it's revolting comedy, lovingly made. The level of detail in the props is something else - like the tiny little ciggie packets, clothes and record covers with minutely rendered designs on them; there's something very satisfying about them and they make the setting feel very well realised. I'm also thoroughly enjoying the set design in this show; when it's bleak, it's harrowing but the nicer sets (they do occur!) are actually pretty welcoming - look at Marge's interior here!

I am in love with those pink cushioned bar shelves, the comfy well-worn armchairs, the light shining through the gauzy curtains and those smoky glass-topped tables! 10/10, interior design goals, gimme that sweet kitsch.

The exterior of the building, seen in the intro to each episode, also reflects the characters who live on each floor, which is a nice touch. The neat, colourful and prim look of the top floor is where Larry and Robbie live; they're a very stereotypical camp couple, one a posh Londoner, the other working class and well Yorkshire, and I would die for them. It's worth taking into consideration that Crapston Villas is one of the first animated British TV shows to feature openly gay characters and the show does address the shite they have to put up with, particularly from Robbie's overbearing mother and a throwback police officer.

In the homely-looking ramshackle effort in the middle, there's overwrought but proactive Marge, a single mother living with her chaotic but strangely endearing family; she's also looking for work, and love, and sex (not necessarily in that order.) There's Woody, the chronically rudderless teenage lad who can't get a girlfriend (and when he finally does, she winds up dead in the midst of a magic mushroom meltdown); Sam, a young girl who's always causing raw chaos with her equally rambunctious mate, Betty, and oh yes, Enid, Marge's mother, who is a one-woman whirlwind and an inspiration to us all.

In the dilapidated hovel on the ground floor, we have Johnathan the self-absorbed tosser/unsuccessful screenwriter (complete with soulpatch!!!) and Sophie, a teacher who is constantly on the verge of/in the midst of a catastrophic breakdown, frequently being dismissed as "moody" and believing that she is at fault for literally everything (as a person with long-standing mental health issues and all the crap you have to put up with in relation to that, she is a very relatable character) and their screechy lodger Flossie (ugh), who dreams of being a successful actress. Down in the the basement, which initially manages to be marginally less grim than the ground floor but later progresses into some kind of Murder Dungeon, the incredibly stereotypical art student squatters reside. I don't normally go in for trite sayings but here it's true: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

So revisiting Crapston Villas under sober circumstances was enjoyable. It does fall into that trench of adult animation being puerile and crass, but it's precisely the raw excess of the thing that makes it fun. Also this is another one of those talking points that's been done to death but when you're Going Through It and cosy comedy doesn't cut the mustard, then grim, grotty and dark comedy can shake you out of a funk, even if it's just for a short while; I've certainly found that to be the case over the years. It's an interesting satirical snapshot of a particular point in place and time (specifically a rough part of inner-city London circa 1996, with the very nice postcode of SE69). As with anything from "back in the day", it has its issues but as mentioned prior, everything does, and no doubt there'll be media that's seen as progressive nowadays, that will probably be looked at with a similarly "Really?!" lens in a couple of decades (assuming humanity is still about by then.) That's just how things go.

Thoughts concluded, I'll wrap up with this final visual of Fatso the cat, truly the MVP of the show (although I do have a major soft spot for Enid, and Marge, and her bold, brash mate, Denise, who had the golden line "What you need is a good shag!" which just really caught me off guard and made me laugh a lot more than it should have.)

Just so majestic.