Peter Capaldi interview

The Thick of It star tells Mariella Frostrup about the Scottish psyche and the dangers of camels.

It may have escaped your notice, but the current series of one of 2010's best comedies quietly came to an end last night. Set in a careworn NHS geriatric ward, Getting On has drawn critical acclaim, but negligible viewing figures.

While I appreciate that a rawly naturalistic tragicomedy suffused with the stench of sickness and mortality will never be a ratings blockbuster, it would be nice to see more love for this overlooked gem.

Written by and starring Joanna Scanlan, Vicki Pepperdine and former psychiatric nurse Jo Brand, Getting On is the antithesis of your average mainstream medical confection: a defiantly unglamorous depiction of Britain's healthcare system, staffed not by selfless angels, but by flawed human beings muddling through as best they can under thankless circumstances. Skating deftly on a hairpin between comedy and pathos, it depicts a profession in which the abiding concerns are bureaucracy, people management and death.

This was never more strikingly illustrated than in the scenes in which the elderly Scottish woman who had been slowly dying throughout the series, finally, inevitably expired. Her poor daughter, unable to accept what had happened, tearfully and tetchily instructed her to wake up, as if it was all just a sick joke: a heartbreaking sketch of grief, emblematic of the programme's understatement.

Sister Den (Scanlan) and Nurse Kim (Brand) went through the practiced motions of comforting the bereaved and dealing with the deceased. But they also argued over what to do with the dead woman's untouched lunch.

Keen to vacate another much-needed bed, Den told the bewildered daughter that the body had to be moved immediately. She was bundled from the hospital to deal with her pain elsewhere, while her mother was abruptly wheeled away in full view of the other patients. As a blunt, desperately sad illustration of Getting On's core themes of life's cyclical grind and the pragmatic demands of NHS medical care, it couldn't have been bettered.

Director Peter Capaldi - Scanlan's co-star from The Thick of It, of which this is a spiritual relative - is to be commended for his sensitive handling of this material. His appropriately sickly, washed-out colour palette and the authentic performances from his excellent cast combine to create a bleakly enthralling atmosphere unlike any other British sitcom.

Doesn't sound like a laugh riot? Well no, it isn't, but nor is it trying to be. The humour arises naturally from character, the situations rooted in reality. Getting On is poignant, funny, profound even. Here's hoping for a speedy return.

"Fly on the wall" possibly isn't the most hygienic way to describe a hospital comedy, but this second series for Jo Brand's ward-based series has been all about the slightly grubby details. Successful as a nurse? Then you're likely to be a failure as a human being. Good with people? You'll never prosper. It's a potentially pretty bleak prospect, it's true, but, directed with lightness by Peter Capaldi, the show creates a real empathy for and between its characters. Tonight, Dr Pippa receives some disappointing news and Beattie's stay in London comes to an end.

There have been some seriously dark moments in the second series of this sitcom set in a forgotten NHS ward but it's made for some top-notch telly. In this finale, Den's in a tizz about a terminally ill youngster who she desperately wants to send on a 'holiday of a lifetime'; Hilary makes yet another U-turn on matters of the heart; and Peter Capaldi's psychiatrist pops up again for a beautifully played scene in which he inadvertently but devastatingly shatters the self-esteem of the pompous Dr Moore.

We're nearly at the end of another stunning series. Hilary's cracking down on ward hygiene with his "infection control avatar" - a lifesize cardboard cutout of Howard that says, "Now wash your hands" when anyone walks past it. And Den locks horns with Dr Moore over the need for Beedy to rush back from Edinburgh to visit her frail mother. Hilary, meanwhile, is busy scolding Beedy for staying past visiting hours. "We do empathise. But it doesn't matter. You'll have to leave." It's made with incredible subtlety, beautiful ensemble playing and Peter Capaldi's assured direction. But don't take everyone else's word for it, watch this and marvel.

Still potentially in the dock over an inappropriate remark, nurse Kim Wilde (Jo Brand) isn't happy. "I came back to nursing to get away from the kids and it's even shitter here than it is at home," she reckons. You can see her point. When a B4 patient, Peggy Lowe (the excellent Hazel Douglas), has a bath-time accident, everyone seems more interested in avoiding the blame than making an honest appraisal of what went wrong. Elsewhere, an excited Doctor Pippa has momentous news: "My faecal forum presentation text has been translated into 17 languages." Director Peter Capaldi guests as consultant Peter Healy.

An extremely fragrant patient was heaved in to B4, where Jo Brand and Joanna Scanlan were discovering that the multi-disciplinary approach to care doesn't really work when beds, trolleys and the rest aren't multi at all. They write the show with Vicki Pepperdine, who steals the acting honours as the useless doctor. Director Peter Capaldi's wobbly camera appears to be mounted on a drip stand with a wheel missing.

Virtue has been rewarded with a return to the schedules for BBC4's dark and unglamorous hospital comedy Getting On, launched last year with three superbly measured episodes of low-key wit and broad hilarity. Who (of the 19 people who saw it) can forget the fun had with the self-important Dr Moore's faecal stool research programme or the eloquently brief wrangling over the ethics of eating a dead woman's birthday cake, or those oases of tedium, ticking with wicked purpose.

The first thing I noticed, though - even as the great Richard Hawley title song lulled us into the new series - was how healthily Daz blue everything looked. Here came the familiar cameras, zooming and retreating in homage to The Thick of It (courtesy of director Peter Capaldi), but where was the bilious washed-out decor and bad complexions and air of neglect? Had the MRSA police been in with the Mr Muscle and a lick of paint? Had someone been ironing the uniforms?

It soon began to ooze some of the old malodorous promise with the arrival of a comatose female of no fixed abode smelling like "an every-orifice cocktail", as dogsbody nurse Kim (mistress of droll, Jo Brand) put it, vying with ward sister Den (Joanna Scanlan) for best evocative observation of human pungency. Something was rotten down there...

There was more laughter to be milked out of it with the entrance of no-nonsense consultant Dr Moore (the excellent Vicki Pepperdine), blind to preposterousness as she urged her retinue of horrified dimwit trainees to peer into the poor woman's back passage and see a valuable learning opportunity. "So... perineal abscess? Rectal prolapse? Anal fistulae?" It was funny, but it did start to dribble away into a dull scene about the new gerontology wing, only to be picked up again by Donald the porter, trying to offload the offending patient on other unwilling departments, his gurney journeying back and forth with diminishing comic power. By the time he parked it in the corridor the only smell I could detect was the new lino.

To be fair there were entertaining skirmishes but they lacked the friction that gave the last series its crackling energy. Den has lost her fear of the officious Dr Moore. Sexually bi-curious matron Hilary - a monster of neuroses held in check by self-help psychobabble - has been stripped of his menace (like Samson before him, I believe) by the blowjob Den gave him in the back of a taxi. And where were the delicious lingual infelicities, the absurdities of NHS jargon, the workplace correctness that left Kim floundering in useless common sense - the whole pickle of moral compromise without which drama can be neither funny nor tragic? Perhaps it will all be back next week. I hope so.

The wobbly camerawork, as if shot by a team of four-year-olds who have run off with the digicam; the mournfully drab municipal setting; the absence, God forbid, of a laugh track; the studiedly natural dialogue. The Office begat The Thick Of It which begat this, a downbeat comedy set on an anonymous NHS ward. It came as no surprise that this, the first episode of the second series (I've come to it late), was directed by Peter Capaldi and starred Joanna Scanlan - each a first-class honours graduate of the Armando Iannucci school of comedy.

And this, being the series opener, it was appropriate that this most self-effacing of entertainments kept the action to the bare minimum. An unconscious old homeless person was admitted whom neither Nurse Den Flixter (Joanna Scanlan) nor her underling Kim Wilde (Jo Brand) really wanted to deal with. A little later, a woman visited her ailing mother and challenges Dr Pippa Moore (Vicki Pepperdine) about the level of pain relief available. That was it. The comedy, such as it was, peeped out from the fraught exchanges between Den, Dr Moore and the male Matron Hilary (Ricky Grover) as they tussled for the upper hand among the dank beds and grey windows. Kim meanwhile rolled her eyes and tried to keep out of trouble.

Yet, days later, it's not the comedy that stays with you, but the show's portrait of the NHS in miniature. Brand, Pepperdine and Scanlan are co-writers, and one assumes Brand's early career as a psychiatric nurse keeps the tone right, if not the up-to-the-minute detail. The passage of the homeless woman from Kim and Den, to the reluctant care of a junior house officer, to the corridor as they try to offload her on another ward was as understandable as it was distressing. Similarly, a well-informed woman's request that her mother's meds be amped up wasn't so much wryly amusing as it was useful - so that, you thought, is how you get someone to pay you proper attention: bone up on the internet, be endlessly polite and don't let them off the hook.

Jo Brand and Peter Capaldi Interview

Director Peter Capaldi and star Jo Brand tell Adam Sweeting how their superb hospital sitcom Getting On sees the funny side of death.