Obligatory spoiler warning!!
Inside no.9 is a British anthology programme broadcast by the BBC. It has become famous for it's originality, ingenuity and eclecticism. Over seven series, creator/writer/stars Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith have delivered an impressive array of tales in imaginative ways, including an episode with almost no dialogue at all, an episode delivered entirely in iambic pentametre and a jukebox musical. It is a masterclass in the art of the bottle episode, with previous stories having been told within a compartment on a sleeper train, a bedroom, the changing room at a football stadium, and a caravan. All but one or two feature comedic undertones which are usually black as coal. No subject is too taboo and tropes are subverted with palpable glee. The series is a whistlestop tour of genres and tones and is as comfortable with the kitchen sink as the supernatural, but despite its variety one can usually expect a rather bleak denoument. That said, it's consistently clever, always profound and boasts one of the most gilded parades of guest stars in British television.
In the opening episode of series 7, 'Merrily Merrily,' the entire tale takes place on a lake, where the cast are confined to a scruffy pedalo. The organiser of the excursion is a psychology lecturer named Laurence (Shearsmith,) who has invited his two best friends from his university days along for a quiet reunion. Callum (Mark Gatiss,) is now a selfabsorbed OB-GYN consultant who considers his spaniels to be his daughters, and Darren (Pemberton,) is the drop-out in head-to-toe denim. Laurence is hoping for a night of meangingful reconnection with his friends, for despite seeing each other increasingly sporadically over the last three decades, they have always managed to meet at important life events. Darren, having not read the invite correctly, is suprised to see a pedalo and not a party boat. He sheepishly introduces his girlfriend Donna (Diane Morgan,) whose working class demeanour and attitude puts her, and most importantly Darren, in stark contrast to the other two.
Longterm fans of Inside no.9 should be forgiven for expecting a murder or two, or perhaps a grand betrayal or resurfacing of buried truths. Perhaps Pemberton and Shearsmith are aware of their reputation as traders of twists, because instead they veer into less explosive territory, plotwise at least.
What we get is rather a restrained tale of small lives and large loss, with more than a little greek mythology thrown in for good measure. Here's where we get kneedeep in spoilers, so come back later if you want to watch it with no foreknowledge:
Laurence has a very good reason to bring his dearest friends to a lake in the middle on nowhere. It's not a very nice day, and the weather is grim, but the date is sadly relevant; it is the first anniversary of the death of his wife Bonnie. Callum and Darren were there to celebrate the happy milestones of Laurence's marriage, and he needs their support to mark its last. The small, wooded island in the centre of the lake is where Laurence had proposed decades ago, and he carries Bonnie's ashes in his backpack. The others are entirely unaware, their friendship now more perfunctory than preserved. The truth comes spilling out when a petty squabble leads to the pedalo drifting into weeds, and the quartet are stuck fast a hundred yards or so from the island, and a frustrated Laurence finally reveals his intentions.
With no phone signal, there is little to do but wait for help. Callum gives them the sage medical advice to stay put, for the water is freezing and only getting colder now that the sun has set. Hypothermia would kill them within thirty minutes. Hours later, and only weak moonlight is left to illuminate the scene. Laurence is agitated, he'd spotted a fisherman watching them from the shore earlier, who hasn't returned. He grabs his equipment from his backpack, jumps into the water and swims towards the island, whilst the others watch him go, powerless to help.
Whilst his friends (and Donna) wait, Laurence has made it to the island and built a shrine to his wife. There are candles, her photo in a frame and her name spelled out in seashells. Laurence speaks to the photo about how much he loved Bonnie and how he is bereft without her. His career hasn't gone as planned, he's now teaching the same course he took 30 years ago, in the same uni, in the same room. It was Bonnie who made his life worth living, and he is now adrift.
He has turned her ashes into fireworks, which he sets off and watches, wet and shivering, with tears in his eyes. Back on the pedalo, his friends watch them explode and ponder the courses of their own lives for better or worse. As Laurence lays down next to his shrine, it's unclear whether he's expecting or hoping for rescue. The camera cuts to Callum, Darren, and Donna, who are now arguing over how they intend to help. Callum has to physically restrain Darren from diving into the lake, and Donna agrees that "the water will freeze your bollocks off!" The camera pans and fades as the men physically wrestle on top of the now-rocking pedalo.
The following scene opens to Laurence coming round on an older, wooden rowboat, helmed by the hooded man he'd seen staring at him from shore. It's dawn and mist is rising from the water. The pedalo is empty, and his rescuer laconic. As the boat nears the shore, the sunlight dims and the mist grows thicker. When they reach a small pontoon, the hooded figure holds out a hand for payment, and Laurence apologises that he hasn't brought his wallet, only to find a silver coin in his mouth. Laurence ever so slowly realises what might be going on. As the figure returns to his boat, Laurence hears a familiar, loving female voice call his name, and he ruefully smiles before the credits roll.
Charon is never named, but the iconography is clear. Only Laurence could see Charon waiting for him from the shore, and Charons later confirms he has been watching Laurence for "some time" and knew exactly where to find him. He's burly, with an oversized, dark wax jacket in place of robes, shadows from the hood obscuring his face. The ferryman is paid his coin, and his passenger reaches the shore.
But what struck me further were the allusions to another trope of Underworld journeys, and that Laurence had essentially come to the lake to perform a nekyia. If we compare his attempts to that of Odysseus in the Odyssey, similarities start to stack up. Both men feel the need to talk with the deceased. Odysseus needs information from Tiresias, and Laurence needs to tell his wife how much he loves her for the final time. The journey for both involves a tricky voyage, and swapping a warship for a dilapidated pedalo is classic Inside no.9, making grand narratives from the mundane and modest. Laurence doesn't have any libations to pour, (though Darren has some Doritos and a pack of tinnies on the boat,) but his carefully packed accoutrements for his makeshift shrine form a ritual more tender than any trench of blood. Whilst Odysseus was swarmed by ghosts, Laurence has to make do with imagining what Bonnie would say if she were still with him. With none of the instructions given to Odysseus, Laurence's nekyia is artless and maladroit in comparison and with none of the expectation of one final conversation. And, as any journey to the underworld, Laurence ventures into frigid, quiet darkness.
Of course, one of the hallmarks of an ancient nekyia or katabasis is that is should be fraught with danger and risked only by the extraordinary. Laurence is so very ordinary. It is perfectly keeping to trope that this unremarkable man should fail in his attempt. Inside no.9 never wastes a single line of dialogue, and as soon as Callum mentions hypothermia, it is clear that this is how the journey of at least one character will end.
Ironically for Laurence, his fatal attempt to speak to his wife at a place significant to them before they were parted reunites them for eternity, and Laurence's bleak past year as a lonely widower with an empty nest and a unfulfilling career means that the viewer is left wondering if this ending is as sad as they initially think. Perhaps Orpheus would have been happier if he'd stayed below too?
Attention to detail is a fixture within Inside no.9, and I suspect many of the allusions to the Underworld beyond Charon were very deliberate. In a series which so frequently deals with death, it seems inevitable that Pemberton and Shearsmith should start looking at cultural attitudes to what happens afterwards. Safe to say, they've nailed it once again.