The last time Richard Gadd was here he bombed. Now he's a superstar
Writing for this masthead, reviewer Craig Platt gave his show Monkey See, Monkey Do two-and-a-half stars, noting it was 'not really a comedy', but rather 'performance as therapy'.
Some other reviews were kinder, some a lot more savage.
'We got the full scorecard,' says Gadd, who has just finished shooting his new series, Half Man, for the BBC and HBO (in Australia, it will air on Stan*).
'I actually got five, four, three, two, and one [stars], so we put the full rainbow of reviews on the posters, and said 'come down, make up your own mind'. And we started to actually sell tickets.'
Gadd has, of course, gone on to master the art of transforming negative experiences into gold. His series – which was in part based on Monkey See, Monkey Do – was the TV sensation of 2024, won him three Emmys, and sparked enormous controversy. It has also embroiled Netflix in a $US170 million lawsuit about which he can say nothing.
Now he's in Australia for the Future Vision television summit at Melbourne's ACMI, alongside fellow international guests Sally Wainwright (creator of Happy Valley) and Soo Hugh (Pachinko) and a vast array of local talent (Harriet Dyer of Colin From Accounts, The Kates of Deadloch, uberproducers Tony Ayres and Bruna Papandrea, and many others).
Loading
The three-day event is open to the public on Monday, before switching to an industry-only gabfest for the other two days, in which the discussion will focus on how Australia can grab a sustainable piece of the global TV action.
The theme is 'Optimism', but Hugh says there's precious little of that among the creatives she knows in the States right now.
'Everyone's so depressed because they realise the market has turned and the industry is changing, and these shows that took so much time and love to make would never sell any more. And there's something a little heartbreaking about knowing that.'
Apple commissioned Pachinko, a multi-generational saga set in Korea, Japan and the US, seven years ago. If she tried to pitch it now, she says with absolute conviction, 'It would never sell'.
Why? 'I think [TV commissioners] are like, 'Oh, the audience doesn't want anything difficult'.' But the success of shows like Baby Reindeer and Adolescence suggests otherwise.
For Wainwright – who has just finished editing her new series, Riot Women, 'about five menopausal women who form a sort of ad-hoc punk rock band' – the problem is simple. 'There's too much content and it's pretty homogenous, and a lot of it is very silly.'
The ones that stand out, she says, 'are incredibly well written. There are things that get through that are difficult and challenging.'
Her Happy Valley is a crime drama, one of the most tried and tested genres on TV. But it is also exceptionally well-written and acted, with an incredibly strong sense of place. And that's what she loves about Deadloch, the show that is, to some degree, why she has come to Australia (as soon as she's done at the summit, she's off to Tasmania, to visit the town in which the first season was set).
'Police procedurals can be very dark and intense and intelligent, or they can be – in England anyway – very lightweight and a bit silly,' she says. 'What I thought was very clever about Deadloch was the way it mixed the two.
'I think you can be dark and funny at the same time. However dark life is, people try to be funny. So if you can mix the two, that's gold dust.'
Gadd's advice to Australians wanting to find an international audience is simple: stay true to yourself and your culture, while tapping into the things that bind us all, no matter where we live.
'If you look at Parasite, nobody would have expected a Korean film about the societal divide to have such international renown,' he says. 'But aside from being a fantastically original piece of art, it also tapped into so much humanity – poverty, desire, struggle, a craving for a better life – and in such a unique way too.'
His own show was deemed similarly unique. But 'the themes are still universal: loneliness, shame, the need for connection, coming to terms with the past.
'I think a show can be shot anywhere and be a success,' he adds, 'as long as it taps into the human condition in unique and interesting ways.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Sydney Morning Herald
7 minutes ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘I'm super-cute': Comedian Urzila Carlson's struggle to stay single
This story is part of the July 26 edition of Good Weekend. See all 15 stories. Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we're told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they're given. This week he speaks to Urzila Carlson. The South African-New Zealander comedian and actor, 49, became the highest-selling act in the history of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival in 2019. She co-stars in the Netflix movie Kinda Pregnant. SEX Urzila, you've landed on 'Sex'. Sex! I've had it. Deal with it. [ Laughs ] What's the first thing that comes to mind? [ Groans ] At this point, it feels like admin. I'd rather read a book, have some melatonin and an early night. Can we both just masturbate [separately] and come to bed early? By the time you've fed the kids, looked after the house, pets and f--- knows what else, who's got the energy for it? I can't be f---ed with f---ing. You're a queer icon now, but what was the coming-out process like for you? I didn't really prioritise it, but I was nervous about what would happen in my community. I was living in South Africa and it's a lot more conservative there: they don't even take kindly to premarital sex, let alone coming out. I came out at 26, which I didn't think was late back then, but now it is: kids are much more comfortable. Anyway, I'm a big believer in [sexuality] being fluid. I understand why the alphabet [LGBTIQA+] keeps growing. You're single right now. Are you currently looking? I'm definitely not looking. I'm the opposite. I'm hyper-focused on staying single and not partnering up. Which is really hard: I'm super-cute. DEATH Is it true that early on in your childhood, your father – who was an alcoholic – came looking for you and your family, armed with a gun? Yes, my father was a very violent, aggressive drunk. Now when I look back on it, he obviously had post-traumatic stress disorder from the Angolan War [a 1975-2002 civil war in which South African forces were at times involved]. But he needed therapy for that: he doesn't get to take that out on his family. But my mum never shit-talked him – ever. That's important. My wife and I got a divorce a few years ago, and I said to her, 'I'll never fight with you.' And we're still best friends. You choose to have a family together, you need to keep your shit together. When people keep fighting after they've split up, I'm like, 'Why are you still fighting this person? You got what you wanted. You're alone now. You're rid of them. Now's your time to be happy.' The fighting should have happened while you were with them. Who was the last person you lost whose death really affected you? It was a friend who passed away a couple of years ago. We used to work together; I met her when I was 18. I gave the eulogy at her funeral the same day I recorded a special on YouTube. I don't even promote that special. It was such a dark day and I was just mentally and physically exhausted. I should have cancelled it. I thought it would be all right, but it wasn't.

The Age
7 minutes ago
- The Age
‘I'm super-cute': Comedian Urzila Carlson's struggle to stay single
This story is part of the July 26 edition of Good Weekend. See all 15 stories. Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we're told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they're given. This week he speaks to Urzila Carlson. The South African-New Zealander comedian and actor, 49, became the highest-selling act in the history of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival in 2019. She co-stars in the Netflix movie Kinda Pregnant. SEX Urzila, you've landed on 'Sex'. Sex! I've had it. Deal with it. [ Laughs ] What's the first thing that comes to mind? [ Groans ] At this point, it feels like admin. I'd rather read a book, have some melatonin and an early night. Can we both just masturbate [separately] and come to bed early? By the time you've fed the kids, looked after the house, pets and f--- knows what else, who's got the energy for it? I can't be f---ed with f---ing. You're a queer icon now, but what was the coming-out process like for you? I didn't really prioritise it, but I was nervous about what would happen in my community. I was living in South Africa and it's a lot more conservative there: they don't even take kindly to premarital sex, let alone coming out. I came out at 26, which I didn't think was late back then, but now it is: kids are much more comfortable. Anyway, I'm a big believer in [sexuality] being fluid. I understand why the alphabet [LGBTIQA+] keeps growing. You're single right now. Are you currently looking? I'm definitely not looking. I'm the opposite. I'm hyper-focused on staying single and not partnering up. Which is really hard: I'm super-cute. DEATH Is it true that early on in your childhood, your father – who was an alcoholic – came looking for you and your family, armed with a gun? Yes, my father was a very violent, aggressive drunk. Now when I look back on it, he obviously had post-traumatic stress disorder from the Angolan War [a 1975-2002 civil war in which South African forces were at times involved]. But he needed therapy for that: he doesn't get to take that out on his family. But my mum never shit-talked him – ever. That's important. My wife and I got a divorce a few years ago, and I said to her, 'I'll never fight with you.' And we're still best friends. You choose to have a family together, you need to keep your shit together. When people keep fighting after they've split up, I'm like, 'Why are you still fighting this person? You got what you wanted. You're alone now. You're rid of them. Now's your time to be happy.' The fighting should have happened while you were with them. Who was the last person you lost whose death really affected you? It was a friend who passed away a couple of years ago. We used to work together; I met her when I was 18. I gave the eulogy at her funeral the same day I recorded a special on YouTube. I don't even promote that special. It was such a dark day and I was just mentally and physically exhausted. I should have cancelled it. I thought it would be all right, but it wasn't.

Sydney Morning Herald
7 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Happy Gilmore 2 is here. But has Adam Sandler shanked it or scored a hole in one?
Happy Gilmore 2 ★★½ Hollywood is deep in its requel era – the remake masquerading as a sequel. Top Gun: Maverick, The Matrix Resurrections, and Ghostbusters: Afterlife all twist the homage dial up. But doing the same with Happy Gilmore, Adam Sandler's scrappy 1996 cult comedy about an ill-tempered ice hockey hopeful crashing the professional golf tour, is an odd choice. Anarchic defiance of the status quo is hard to replicate on the cusp of turning 60 years old. But in his comedies, which have moved from multiplexes to Netflix, Sandler has always been, well, happy to make do. In a film that celebrates family unity, Happy Gilmore 2 honours its forebear with a swathe of self-referential tributes and some amusing callbacks. It's a little too dutiful, and could have done with more chaos and absurdism before it revs up for a ludicrous but mostly pleasing finale. Written, as the original was, by Sandler and Robert Herlihy, the plot delivers a rapid-fire update of Happy's life after becoming an unlikely winner of the US Open. Romantic interest Virginia Venit (Julie Bowen) became his wife, further success and a posse of kids followed, before tragedy leaves Happy broke, boozing, and hating golf. It's bad, but not too bad – he can still let real-life golf maverick John Daly live in his garage. In a reflection of the clash between the golf establishment and the Saudi-backed LIV tour, Happy's return coincides with the launch of Maxi, the brainchild of energy drunk magnate Frank Manatee (Benny Safdie). The oily disruptor sees Maxi as a continuation of Happy's disruption. After all, he screamed at the ball and literally traded blows with his pro-am partner. But this Happy is, uncomfortably, a traditionalist. The film's solution to philosophical quandaries is to pile on the cameos. Famous veteran golfers such as Jack Nicklaus give way to numerous current stars, including Scottie Scheffler and Rory McIlroy. Characters from the first film are remembered here with offspring. Ben Stiller returns. Margaret Qualley plays a round. Some try too hard (Travis Kelce), some get it right (Eminem), some do not try (Post Malone). The producer who made the schedules match deserves a medal. Loading It's jocular as opposed to hysterical; nothing ruptures the mood. Director Kyle Newacheck (Workaholics, What We Do in the Shadows) is in third gear until the final act, where the two rival tours face-off on a Maxi-fied course. The fantastical fit-out has the madcap gravity of Stephen Chow circa Shaolin Soccer. It gives Happy Gilmore 2 a welcome burst of energy, but you could still chalk it up as Adam Sandler's mulligan.