Following on from the first instalment of my ranking of Inside No.9, and in a desperate attempt to keep talking about the series (I think I’m in denial that it’s ended) here is part two, taking us from 38 to 21. The middle section of rankings like these are invariably the most arbitrary, and such is the case here. There is so little to separate these in terms of quality – they are all incredibly strong episodes, and honestly, any negative comments are more a justification for their position than a real criticism.
Part 3 and our top 20 episodes will be posted next week.
38. Nana’s Party
This deceptively simple character piece was the first ever episode of Inside No.9 written by Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton, but withheld until the second season. Nana (Elsie Kelly) celebrates her 79th birthday with her dysfunctional family – neat freak Angela (Claire Skinner), her alcoholic sister Carol (Lorraine Ashbourne), and their partners, pompous Jim (Pemberton) and practical joke loving Pat (Shearsmith). It might seem like a low stakes episode, but it’s a masterclass in suspense, as several set-ups are established in the opening, with each one paying off over the course of the episode. The story structure and constant build and release of tension is perfectly executed, especially the scenes involving the joke cake. There’s a desperate, Alan Ayckbourn-like sadness lurking just below the family’s banal suburban existence, embodied by Ashbourne and Shearsmith in particular, who both give distinctly humane performances that veer between ridiculous and melancholy.
37. Zanzibar
Writing an entire episode in iambic pentameter is an audacious move, and the fact that Shearsmith and Pemberton pulled it off successfully is an undeniably impressive achievement, even if it occasionally veers into slightly-too-clever-for-it’s-own-good territory. Set on floor nine of the Hotel Zanzibar, the plot is worthy of a Shakespearean farce, with a pair of twins, (Rory Kinnear in a double role) double entendres, an assassination plot and comic misunderstandings galore. The writers’ fondness for cheesy humour is present in full force, and the uniformly game cast embrace the silliness from start to finish. Kinnear is the standout, giving dry line readings that make the dialogue sing, but Tanya Franks is equally great as the “strawberry tart” and Jaygann Ayeh is wonderfully solicitous as the put-upon bellboy who serves as the episode’s Greek chorus.
36. 3×3
To paraphrase The Usual Suspects, the greatest trick Inside No.9 ever pulled, was convincing the world that The Bus Episode ever existed. Advertised as a parody of On The Buses, complete with a guest appearance from Robin Askwith, viewers were understandably blindsided when instead, the BBC apparently aired a new gameshow called 3×3, hosted by Lee Mack. Of course there’s more to it than that, as a disturbing,John Wyndham-esque tale of experimentation and telekinesis is played out in the background of the gameshow, appearing in furtive glances or little throwaway moments, before the first hint that something isn’t quite right, where Catherine (Saskia Wakefield) pre-empts an answer before Mack even asks the question. What still impresses about this episode is the amount of restraint shown by the writers. They never tip their hand that what we are watching isn’t a real gameshow. All the important story beats are there, but happen in the background, and the creepy details lie away from the quiz itself, in the margins of the show. The most audacious gambit that Inside No.9 ever pulled off, it still holds up on a rewatch, and Mack is instrumental in making the episode feel authentic, bringing his natural game show host energy, and grounding it in reality.
35. Plodding On
It’s a little tricky to rate the last ever episode of Inside No.9 – with the wrap party setting and all the meta references it’s more a tribute to the series than an episode in and of itself. Taken on its own terms though, it’s a perfect send-off. An unapologetically self-referential episode,Plodding Onis a wistful curtain call for the series, as Pemberton and Shearsmith take stock of the show’s legacy, and consider their uncertain futures apart from one another.It would have been very easy to lapse into a self congratulatory victory lap, but it manages to have it’s cake and eat it. It celebrates the series in a genuinely moving, unironic way while also undercutting the pomp and circ*mstances by being painfully self aware (“Every fourth one a dud!?”) and featuring decidedly unflattering portrayals of its two creators.Both a joyous celebration of the series and a heartbreaking look at the toll of a working partnership, it’s as idiosyncratic and unpredictable an ending as you could hope for from one of television’s most unique series.
34. The Bill
Another ensemble piece, but a lot better contained than La Couchette, and infinitely more suspenseful, with razor sharp dialogue and a few incredibly tense set-pieces, as four acquaintances (Pemberton, Shearsmith, Philip Glenister and Jason Watkins) at a restaurant argue over who will pay for the group’s meal. The twists and turns are less intriguing than the pre-existing grudges and resentments of the friends at the table, but the way the episode keeps adding crinkles to the story is ingenious story-telling, revealing more and more about the characters with each subsequent turn – Watkins‘ penny pinching miser is particularly memorable. The resolution might be rushed, but the characters and dialogue are so brilliantly realised that you can forgive a slightly unsatisfactory ending – plus the game of Stabscotch is one of the tensest set-pieces of the series, recalling Roald Dahl at his most sad*stic.
33. Dead Line
This Halloween special, broadcast live, is one of the most innovative half hours of British television from the past decade. What begins as a typically macabre tale about a lost mobile phone soon progresses into something more meta, and infinitely more terrifying, in the vein of seminal 1992 mockumentary Ghostwatch, playing on the idea that Granada studios is haunted. Nothing will beat that initial live viewing, but the episode still retains its ability to chill the blood on repeat viewings. The premise is brilliantly inventive, and the initial few scares are truly disconcerting – especially the continuity announcer being haunted by an echo, and playing around with an apparent repeat of A Quiet Night In. The content of the episode might not be entirely successful (as Shearsmith says himself “The ending is impenetrable”) but it’s still the most immersive, unnerving episode the series ever produced.
32. Wuthering Heist
The opposite to Parasekevidekatriaphobia, in that while I loved the constant theatrical references, I can totally understand why others might find it unbearable. Wuthering Heist is a dense but incredibly irreverent mix of Commedia dell’arte and heist movies. That’s a pretty eclectic combination, and in lesser hands it could easily feel overstuffed, but Pemberton and Shearsmith handle all the disparate elements deftly, and remain faithful to both genres, while chucking in a frankly unwieldy amount of puns for good measure.
And oh God the puns. The “Lean” joke might be my favourite, but Shearsmith struggling manfully with a leather chair is delightful, as is Pemberton’s pun-riddled speech, culminating in the best non-joke of the episode “Trinidad and Tobago?” “Yes.” Gemma Whelan is the stand-out as the Fleabag / Miranda-ing confidante, but the entire cast prove to be on board with the premise, throwing themselves into the fun and the result is one of the most gleefully silly episodes of the series.
31. Private View
A homage to, among others, Agatha Christie, Dario Argento and Mario Bava, this supremely silly whodunnit in an art gallery is a campy pleasure, and one of the standout episodes of season four, as a group of strangers are menaced at a pretentious art installation. Felicity Kendal nearly steals the episode as a blind editor of erotic fiction, but Fiona Shaw is perfect as the disarmingly amiable dinner lady. The plot doesn’t really bear scrutiny, and the ending is a bit rushed with an incredibly implausible twist (As Shearsmith’s pompous lecturer puts it: “Oh that’s a stretch!”) but it’s a lot of fun nonetheless, with some witty jabs at the modern art world and the cult of celebrity, as well as a couple of genuinely disturbing Giallo moments.
30. Mulberry Close
A tale of literal curtain twitchers prying into their neighbours’ lives, Mulberry Close is a knowing homage to the films of Alfred Hitchco*ckandBrian De Palma, and the funniest episode from the final season. In an inversion of the voyeuristic, invasive nature of something likeRear Windowthough,this story is told exclusively from the point of view of the house itself, in the form of the doorcam, meaning all we can see is those who are looking in. It’s a canny move, creating some genuine suspense, and making the events happening Inside Number Nine even more ambiguous, reduced completely to raised voices and sinister sound effects. Mulberry Close might appear a bit gimmicky, and maybe a bit light on characterisation, but it’s all in service to the narrative. It’s one of the most technically innovative episodes the series has attempted, with an appropriately nasty ending.
29. The Trial Of Elizabeth Gadge
Potentially the most outright comic episode of the series, this mixture of Witchfinder General and Carry On Screaming is informed by the pair’s own interest in the infamous witch trials of the 17th century, and love of bad puns. It’s not especially subtle and the twist sticks out a mile, but the rapid-fire comic wordplay is hilarious. Shearsmith and Pemberton are on top form as the sinister Mr Warren and Mr Clark, the Witch-hunters who descend on the quiet town of Little Happens to try a potential witch. The performances are broadly comic without ever feeling mannered – Shearsmith in particular delivers the arcane dialogue with palpable relish, Ruth Sheen is immediately likeable as the dauntless, supposed witch of the title, more than holding her own against the unscrupulous Witchfinders, while the late, great David Warner gives what might be the single funniest performance of the whole series as the guileless judge. His delivery of “Well, you brought it upon yourselves” feels like it was lifted straight out of Time Bandits.
28. A Random Act Of Kindness
An especially underrated episode, perhaps due to the more sci-fi, fantastical nature of the script. A Random Act Of Kindness is a mixture of two of my favourite kinds of Inside No.9 episodes, those with real emotional stakes, and the ones that manage to take you completely by surprise. It contains one of my all-time favourite performances of the series, in the form of Jessica Hynes’ achingly humane mum with a sullen teenage son (Noah Valentine). Hynes is vulnerable and poignant, beautifully portraying her character’s deep sadness – the little humiliated chuckle she does as Zach lashes out her is such a natural, human touch, and utterly heartbreaking. The enigmatic conclusion left some cold, but for me it’s a nicely ambiguous note to end on. It’s a thought provoking, beautifully elliptical ending, but maybe too subtle – it’s easy to miss the devastating implications of that final shot.
27. Boo To A Goose
One of the strongest ensemble pieces Inside No.9 produced, Boo To A Goose is an alternately playful and chilling commentary on authoritarianism, with a sinister sting in the tail.It’s a riff on the classic Twilight Zone episode Will The Real Martian Please Stand Up, a tale of paranoia and prejudice, as nine strangers find themselves stranded on a train held between stations. When one passenger (Philippa Dunne) has her purse stolen in a blackout, the rest of the coach attempt to root out the culprit, in the process revealing each character’s outlooks and prejudices in the process. What I loved about this episode is the way it refuses to take a side until very near the end. Even the most unpleasant characters (namely Mark Bonnar as the self appointed public avenger or Pemberton’s vindictive drag queen) have reasons for their prejudiced viewpoint, that extends beyond “He’s a bad guy” and this only serves to make the characterisation even more compelling. The first episode of the final season Boo To A Goose is the perfect demonstration of the show still going strong in it’s final run of episodes; funny, disquieting and sinister all at once.
26. Cold Comfort
An unnerving story that’s elevated by the unconventional filming style, shot almost entirely on the main character’s desktop camera, with smaller CCTV feeds constantly visible within the frame. Set in a Samaritan’s Call Centre, the episode follows new recruit Andy (Pemberton) as he takes increasingly disturbing calls from one troubled teenage girl. Jane Horrocks and Nikki Amuka-Bird are both excellent, making a vivid impression as instantly recognizable perennial office archetypes, respectively the gossipy busybody and the officious ice queen. The mystery at the centre of the story is a a tad predictable (there are only ever two real options for who the mystery caller is) but there are some very creepy moments, from the use of multiple screens to the abrupt, shocking ending. You’ll never listen to Take That the same way again.
25. Misdirection
Anyone familiar with The League Of Gentlemen’s Dean Tavolouris knows about Reece Shearsmith’s interest in magic, and this episode serves as a timely reminder. Here Shearsmith plays an ambitious young magician intent on learning the signature trick of an older magician (Pemberton). The story quickly evolves into something entirely different, with the appearance of a young journalist, (Fionn Whitehead) Shearsmith’s wife (Jill Halfpenny) and a detective (Tom Goodman Hill) all contributing to a tale of revenge, murder and the mechanics and stagecraft of magic. In the same way that The Riddle Of The Sphinx is Pemberton’s love letter to crossword puzzles, Misdirection is Shearsmith’s own passion made manifest, and the similarities don’t end there. The revenge angle is almost identical to the earlier episode, (and just as nasty) but for me this adds to the charm, making them almost feel like companion pieces to each other, just with a different writer at the helm.
24. The Devil Of Christmas
This might be the only episode of the whole entire series I have difficulty rewatching, just for its sheer nastiness. An incredibly faithful recreation of the creepy 1970s style of anthology horror programmes, such as Nigel Kneale’s Beasts, it tells the story of an English family on holiday in the Alps, where they hear of the tale of the Krampus, the inverse Father Christmas. The episode is incredibly faithful to the films it pastiches, complete with overacting, actors missing their marks, creaky sets and shoddy sound cues. Added to which is the central conceit of the episode, with Derek Jacobi‘s director providing a knowing audio commentary. Pemberton is suitably pompous as the leading man and both Rula Lenska and Jessica Raine give on-point performances within performances, perfectly capturing the old fashioned acting mannerisms. The whole episode is full of wry observations, right up to the horrific revelation at the episode’s end, which leaves a genuinely nasty taste in the mouth. At it’s core though, it’s an incredibly sophisticated episode, succeeding as both a pastiche and something much more meta.
23. Empty Orchestra
In a refreshing departure from the darker tone of season 3, Empty Orchestra stands out for being less concerned with murders and plot twists, and more interested in small office politics. A work night out at a karaoke booth is rife with drama over office affairs and rumours of impending firings. The use of each song to highlight each character’s predicament may be a little on-the-nose but seeing Tamzin Outhwaite and Sarah Hadland belting out I Know Him So Well more than makes up for it, as well as Pemberton showing off his impressive pipes in a rousing rendition of Since You’ve Been Gone. The closing scenes with Janet (Emily Howlett) and Duane (Javone Prince) are beautifully tender, with ingenious use of sound design, and despite the more down-to-earth setting, Outhwaite manages to make her character one of the most vile of the whole series. The story might not be the most original, but it remains the most feelgood episode – and the only one to end with a sing-a-long.
22. How Do You Plead?
A gleefully malevolent homage to The Devil And Daniel Webster, this is an admirably straightforward story about a notoriously ruthless lawyer who, on his deathbed, tries to renege on his deal with the devil. Derek Jacobi gives a magnetic performance, making Webster alternately pitiful and unscrupulous, and Shearsmith gives one of his most sympathetic performances as the downright decent nurse with a dark secret of his own. Though the final twist might not be too surprising for anyone who’s seen an episode of this series before. How Do You Plead?is still a macabre joy, especially Pemberton’s performance as the impish lift operator, which recalls Burgess Meredith’s similar performance in The Twilight Zone. Narratively, there’s a lot going on, and the story succeeds on every level. It’s terrifying where it needs to be, and drenched with a dark, brooding atmosphere, but mostly it’s a lot of fun, with a nasty sting in the tail.
21. The Riddle Of The Sphinx
One of the most unpleasant episodes the pair have produced, and all centred around a puzzle! Steve Pemberton‘s love of cryptic crosswords is evident throughout this darkly comic tale, based around his own crossword he wrote for The Guardian. He gives a gleeful performance as the Cambridge professor moonlighting as a crossword writer, who is surprised to discover a student (Alexandra Roach) who has broken into his study, supposedly to get the answers for the weekly crossword puzzle. From there we dive into a macabre homage to Sleuth via The Cook The Thief His Wife And Her Lover, as Pemberton takes the opportunity to explain to his captive audience (and us) the ins and outs of cryptic clues, unaware of her own secret agenda. The cryptic crossword tutorial is fascinating enough, but way the clues are deconstructed and used to further the story is brilliantly done, and the unapologetically bleak denouement is especially nasty.
