Everyone, it seems, has a soft spot for Miranda Hart.
Since being branded the ‘Queen of Comedy’ in 2011, she has gone from strength to strength. Ten million viewers tuned in on Boxing Day 2012 to watch a new episode of her show, Miranda, making it the most popular programme of the day. Many viewers will recognise her as Chummy in Call the Midwife. What is all the fuss about?
‘Such fun’
To put it simply, the star of the show Miranda is a galumphing singleton, a kind of loveable post-Bridget Jones woman whose attempts at being feminine are doomed to disaster. Despite her best intentions, she is variously held back by her live-in Mum, her enormous knickers, her equally enormous appetite, and her propensity for being mistaken for a man.
Miranda takes us back to the good (mostly) clean fun of 1970s British sitcoms. It’s the kind of harmless light entertainment in which falling over a coat stand or having your trousers fall down on the dance floor provides the laughs. Sometimes the show is a little too reliant on the purely physical slapstick comedy of Miranda’s flailing limbs and her habit of ‘lying to impress’.
But it works, because the humour is gentle, friendly and innocent. It’s a breath of fresh air in a comedy landscape that has lately been cluttered with cynical fly-on-the-wall style mockumentaries.
‘We all do it’
Whether it’s bossy mums, unrequited crushes, lacklustre jobs or irritating friends, there’s something that we can all relate to in Miranda. The title of her book Is It Just Me? says it all. She is reaching out, encouraging us to identify snippets of our own lives writ large in the series. We recognise the ‘undeniably discombobulating and embarrassing hiccups, nuances, and foibles of just... being a person’. We watch her get her into all sorts of utterly mortifying situations and say: ‘I do that too’. We can, on some level, relate to the unbearable clumsiness of it all.
In her book, Miranda Hart says that her aim ‘was to tap into that universal truth that we all feel awkward in life, but hide it to varying degrees’. She wanted to acknowledge that fitting in is harder than it looks and that often it seems that ‘the nub of life is surely negotiating and avoiding idiocy’.
You are special
The main character of her series is certainly awkward, and often rather idiotic. She is childish and absurd: she makes silly faces, does silly voices, repeats silly words and sings silly songs. She likes nothing better than galloping around her joke shop with her best friend Stevie. Miranda is the embodiment of the concept of ‘kidulthood’, a woman who loves performing energetic dance routines with maracas and catching biscuits in her mouth. She’s immature but harmless; in her own words, she largely just lollops around ‘like an amiable hound’.
Miranda’s focus on her supposedly unfeminine appearance and her date-night blunders seem to have a particular appeal for a female audience. Some male critics have bombarded her with insults such as ‘a human stegosaurus, huge and hugely un-fanciable’. Nonetheless, Miranda’s on-screen ‘will they won’t they’ romantic interest, Gary, seems to love her just the way she is. Whenever she fails to transform herself into a sophisticated, mature woman, he simply says: ‘I think I preferred the old you anyway’.
This message of unqualified acceptance is one that the off-screen Miranda is keen to promote, telling her fans: ‘There is none other like you and for that reason alone you are beautiful’. In fact, she has said that her favourite book is Max Lucado’s You are Special, in which a small wooden toy named Punchinello learns to accept that, whatever other people may think of him, he is special in the eyes of his Creator. It is a clear metaphor for the love and acceptance that we receive from God.
Faith and fun
Perhaps Miranda relates to Punchinello’s story on a theological level, for she has confessed to believing in God. However, the church should not expect to find a new poster-girl. She shies away from discussing the details of her faith, saying: ‘It’s scary to say you’re pro-God [...] Those clever atheists are terrifying’. The clearest articulation she has given is still rather vague: ‘I’m not particularly into the formal, political side of faith, although I am spiritual and I do have a faith’. She even seems embarrassed to explain why Joyce Grenfell is one of her comedy idols: ‘She [...] was such a kind, giving Christian woman — not to sound too religious’.
Yet her reticence to speak about her beliefs does not prevent her from having some sharp comic insights. Whatever your religious persuasion, Miranda is right: ‘Life does have a tendency to throw us difficulties, depressions, moments of boredom, loneliness or grind’. Unfortunately, even those of us who know the love and acceptance of God in our lives are not immune.
The Mirantidote? Make your own fun. Or, at the very least, have a laugh with Miranda while she makes hers.
Rachel Helen Smith works as an events planner and freelance writer in Cambridge. More of her articles are available at http://www.rachelhelensmith.com
