Advertisement

Inside No 9 Live, review: A prank pulled off with aplomb, this was a televisual trick and treat

Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton  - BBC
Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton - BBC

Halloween came early with some seriously scary TV - in more ways than one. As Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith’s comedy-horror anthology series aired a special one-off live edition, anything could have gone wrong. And for a while, it seemed to have done. 

Titled “Dead Line”, Inside No.9 Live (BBC Two) began like a normal episode. Well, as normal as these twisted tales ever get. Pemberton played bumbling pensioner Arthur Flitwick, who found an old mobile phone in a graveyard and was trying to track down its owner.

The audio seemed to drop out a few times in the first 10 minutes. Just one of the perils of live TV, viewers assumed, until the suspicion gradually grew that this technical breakdown was all part of the duo’s devilish plan.

So it proved, as a stagey three-hander with guest star Stephanie Cole developed into a sort of 21st century Ghostwatch. 

We cut from a “Sorry for the break in transmission” card and a continuity announcer getting spooked (“Hello? Is someone there?”) to a CCTV feed behind-the-scenes at the TV studio, where Pemberton and Shearsmith played themselves, casually scrolling through their Twitter feeds, while bitching about the BBC and co-star Cole (“Told you we should’ve got Pam Ferris”).

Viewers were told that due to technical problems, a repeat of early episode “A Quiet Night In” would be broadcast instead. This silent slapstick classic was soon brought to an end by a leap-off-the-sofa sudden appearance of a ghostly figure. 

Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton  - Credit: BBC
Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton Credit: BBC

Paranormal activity slowly took over. The screen glitched seemingly at random between rehearsal footage and archive clips, which it became apparent all depicted eerie events at Granada Studios: a fire, an accident, an episode of ghost-hunting series Most Haunted. A lighting technician had hung himself at Halloween, apparently, and now cursed the studios. 

There were screams and jumps, from eggs exploding in microwaves to glimpsed movement in dark corners. The crazed audio-visual montage settled into a “found footage” horror short, filmed from the point-of-view of Shearsmith’s cycling helmet-cam (he’d begun the episode playing a creepy vicar on a bike). 

Cole took a phone call from the spirit world - “He says they’re coming. They’ve always been here. This is their home. Let them be” - before falling into a hypnotic trance and slitting her own throat. Pemberton got electrocuted. Shearsmith breathlessly tried to escape, dashing in panic around the pitch black studio until that same ghostly figure loomed out of the darkness.

Cut to that continuity card again. A spectral voice said “Let us be”. Roll credits, while viewers sat open-mouthed, not exactly sure what they’d just seen but scared silly by it all the same. 

Perhaps we shouldn’t have been surprised that one of the most consistently inventive, relentlessly surprising shows on-air should pull the rug out from under us in this way. Yet it’s testament to Shearsmith and Pemberton’s skill and sick sense of humour that they still blindsided us. 

Viewers went from assuming the live format had backfired, to wondering what the hell was going on, to clutching each other in toe-scrunching terror. It was a prank pulled off with aplomb. This was both televisual trick and treat.

With its head-spinning plot twists and Hitchcockian scares, Inside No.9 often draws comparison to The Twilight Zone or Tales Of The Unexpected. Its anthology format is also frequently likened to Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror, which was cleverly referenced here. When Cole mentioned ghosts in the TV machine, Shearsmith replied: “You’re thinking of Black Mirror. This is more comedy and twists.”

This episode marked the 25th story from the Inside No.9 team and was one of the most ingenious chapters yet. High-risk and deliberately confusing (how many viewers turned off when the sound seemed to fail?), fiendishly clever yet deceptively simple, immersive and interactive, even utilising social media to manipulate the audience. 

Airing after a busy BBC evening of Doctor Who, Strictly Come Dancing and new John Le Carré adaptation The Little Drummer Girl, this was also a powerful advertisement for the licence fee. Netflix and Amazon are all very well but they can’t do event TV in the same way. 

The national broadcaster might have its faults but it still provides a platform for such communal experiences and creative brilliance. Let us be indeed.