Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa

I’ll be honest; I was a tad scared going in to see Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa after having watched the trailer the night before. You know when you’re watching something with someone else, expecting to see something that’ll make you both laugh out loud in unison? Well it didn’t happen watching the trailer. Not once. And it put the fear of God into me that it would be the second Brit flick in as many months to raise little more than a mild chuckle (I won’t go into detail on The World’s End to which I’m referring, a film that makes me more upset the more I think about it). Thankfully, Alpha Papa is everything you could ever want from an Alan Partridge film, and more. That may sound over-zealous, but the minute you see him finger-tapping and head-bobbing to Roachford’s Cuddly Toy, expertly miming all the words as the opening credits roll, you know you’re in safe hands. Safe hands wearing beige leather driving gloves. Jurassic Park indeed.

While the plot could seem overblown on the surface, it’s the quaint British take on standard Hollywood action film clichés that serve to give Alpha Papa its charm. After elbowing out fellow DJ Pat Farrell (Colm Meaney) from his beloved North Norfolk Digital (in the process of being rebranded ‘Shape’ due to a conglomerate takeover), Farrell returns during a rebranding party with shotgun in hand, holding the station to ransom until he gets reinstated. Unaware it was Partridge who helped decide his fate during a management meeting, he requests Partridge be his right-hand man to help get him back on the air, with the police hoping he’ll diffuse the situation, get the hostages to safety and all will be well. Of course things don’t go to plan, with Partridge slowly realising the whole event could be a career-defining moment as his ego gets the better of him (as if you expected anything less), but never once does the film tumble over into total farce. It walks a fine line for sure, but when you think the film could easily have been Partridge in America (even In The Loop was essentially ‘The Thick of It goes to Washington’), you remain glad that Partridge – a singularly British creation – never feels like he’s trying to be anything other than Partridge, albeit on a slightly bigger screen.

The film is a difficult one to view objectively, largely due to the fact that Partridge is such a ubiquitous creation that it’s hard to imagine anyone watching the film knowing nothing about the character. It makes no concessions for those who don’t know who he is (no grand introduction, no back story), but in a way you don’t really have to know too much about Partridge to ‘get’ Partridge. As Coogan said himself in recent promotional interview, he’s the middle-Englander who’s all in favour of the free market, but at the same time would be trying to save his local Post Office from closing down. He’s at once utterly simple, yet layered and complex – and thankfully he’s moved with the times. You won’t see him sporting chevron action flash knitwear here, but what you WILL see him wearing is a rather natty Sennheiser talkback headset, perfect for hostage negotiations at any local radio station.

It’s also great to see a film based on a British sitcom that isn’t trying to use broad strokes to widen its appeal. Nor is it a film (and I hate this phrase) “for the fans”. Okay, it IS for the fans, but not in the way that Spielberg said that Indy 4 was “for the fans”, as if it’s some kind of self-indulgent exercise for a niche audience of millions. God knows how Alpha Papa will play in other territories – you can maybe make comparisons with the likes of Larry David in Curb Your Enthusiasm, Partridge’s studio dialogue often a joy to behold (“Never criticise Muslims. Only Christians, and Jews a little bit.”), but still, Norfolk is a hell of a long way from Los Angeles. But enough of the pontificating. When it boils down to it, Alpha Papa ticks every box you could ask it to – I’m desperate to see it again, and I don’t think you can ask for much more of a recommendation than that.