Rarely has an animated show felt more like an extension of its creator’s personality than Netflix’s “Alley Cats,” a Ricky Gervais production from top to fuzzy bottom. It’s a disheartening reminder of how far the once-creative star of “The Office” and “Extras” has fallen, becoming almost a parody of himself with his “edgy” humor and boasting about defeating a cancel culture that Netflix clearly never believed existed if one looks at its roster of stand-up specials.
All six of the short (15 minutes or so) episodes of “Alley Cats” follow a nearly identical format as Gervais’ Gus and his cat buddies sit on a couch, riff for a few minutes, wander around town for a loose plot, and end up with piano-accompanied thoughts about life and death in a way that’s aggressively manipulative. Gervais even has the nerve to use the opening piano riffs of Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” more than once, leaning into a show that’s surprisingly sentimental.
More than ever, Gervais as a writer exists only in extremes: He’s either trying to offend with lame attempts at graphic humor or leaning into the kind of manipulative storytelling he honed on “After Life.” He’s made a show with an extended conversation about a cat being fingered by local kids and yet another reminder that Gervais can’t believe in a God that gives children (or kittens) fatal diseases. It’s the only show on TV that addresses both cats watching their owners erotically asphyxiate and what happens after we die.
That description probably makes “Alley Cats” sound more entertaining than it is, even with its undeniable points for originality. The short length of each episode (and the overall season, which can be watched in less time than it takes to see most feature films) allows for “Alley Cats” to be more forgettable than atrocious, and the writers do find a joke here or there that connects. The voice work is relatively strong (including former Gervais collaborators like David Earl, Kerry Godliman, and Tony Way), and the animation has charming simplicity that fits its subject matter: A show about homeless, raunchy cats shouldn’t look too pretty.
What’s ultimately disheartening about “Alley Cats” is how little impact it makes either on the legacy of Ricky Gervais or the current state of streaming animated comedy. Gervais used to be such an important voice in TV comedy (and, for a brief window, was also an interesting filmmaker), but like so many once-edgy artists, he seems content to repeat himself and fall into all the routines his detractors expect. And the saddest truth is that there’s nothing about “Alley Cats” that’s particularly interesting outside of how it reflects the current state of its creator’s career and sense of humor.
Ricky Gervais thrives on attention, whether it’s in being a provocateur on an awards show stage or repeatedly espousing his atheism on podcasts. The problem is that comedy requires interest in something other than yourself, and Gervais has never met anyone funnier or smarter than himself. That ego seeps through so much of “Alley Cats,” a show that should be a casual, funny hang but can’t get out of the shadow of its own creator’s worst instincts.
The tagline for “Alley Cats” is “Nine Lives, Zero Fucks.” Ricky Gervais has certainly had the former as he’s maintained popularity for nearly three decades now. And he’s made the latter his entire personality. As a huge fan of his work with Stephen Merchant, I believe there’s always a chance that this undeniably smart TV creator could find that magic again, but it’s only going to happen if he’s able to leave the predictable comedic alleys that his fans know by heart.
Whole season screened for review. Now on Netflix.
