I wanted to like Derek. Well, that’s not entirely true—I didn’t really care if I liked it or not—but I was optimistic because I like a lot of British TV and I thought The Office was funny. This is pretty much the same thought process I imagine happening in the minds of the producers, because the format is exactly the same: dry interviews, and shaky camera scenes of awkward people interacting awkwardly. The big twist is that instead of an office, it’s an old folks’ home—and instead of being the socially-uncomfortable and morally-borderline boss, Ricky Gervais is a socially-uncomfortable and morally-borderline orderly. Also, he’s possibly mentally handicapped.

Getting through the pilot episode was excruciating. So. Incredibly. Boring. It was like pulling teeth out of my eyes— my eye-teeth, if you will.

Just in case it was about to get better, I even gave the second episode a shot. Ten minutes of rolling piano notes and quick shots of old people drinking water later, I was brimming with regret. Had I fallen asleep and dreamed this horrible show? Brief employee interviews, wistful old-people shots, boring plot of an inspection/chance for further character development, more wistful old-people shots, mildly funny naked creeper-guy in one of the beds, awkward-sad-awkward, The End.

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Managing Editor for Synthesis Weekly. Amy likes to make clothes, plant flowers, and chase butterflies.