Peter Capaldi broke from the venom of The Thick of It to deliver this affectionate one-off comedy, a spoof documentary about the output of a fictional British studio in the early 20th Century. Clearly a labour of love for Capaldi and his co-writer Tony Roche, Cricklewood Greats was a stuffed stocking spilling over with subtle gags and perfect miniature parodies. Aimed squarely at film and comedy buffs, this was possibly the most BBC4-ish show of the year and all the more delightful for it.

This programme features parody upon parody. Firstly there are the films parodied: silent movies, Hammer horrors, Carry On films and so on. Then there's Capaldi playing a version of himself, making the programme less about the studio and more about itself. His mock-fawning just seems to say: "Paul Merton on every silent comedian there has ever been."

There's one scene in which Capaldi looks at the career of horror actor Lionel Crisp, star of Dr. Worm, (think The Fly but in which the scientist turns into... well, you can guess what) and as a present from a fellow actor he gets part of Crisp's worm costume. You can just sense the self-love.

Out of all the 'actors' that Capaldi talked about, or rather created, my personal favourite was a northern comedy actress called Florrie Fontaine, a woman so poor that as a girl she lived under a chip shop, had an abusive husband, and during the 1940s form a friendship with the Nazi which ruined her career after World War II. Great characterisation.

If there is a problem, I would say that I'm unsure if it works as a one-off. It might have been better to make it as a series and profile one actor per episode.

Cricklewood Greats review

At every moment the pastiches were absolutely right; had you come into the room late, you might just have taken them for the real thing. Lots of delicious bathos, too.

The weekend's viewing: Cricklewood Greats, Sun, BBC4

Pastiche is a pretty unforgiving form of comedy.

Cricklewood Greats review

Cricklewood Greats was full of hilarious dead-pan lines, high production values and ludicrous stories.

Cricklewood Greats: thumbs up

Cricklewood Greats was a well-judged and unexpected Sunday night treat. Just don't go looking for The Flying Pie on IMDb.

Peter Capaldi interview

"I like Malcolm Tucker very much. He's got a heart of gold and he's only trying to do his job; it's not his fault that he's confronted by an army of idiots"

Peter Capaldi's mock documentary revisits the titular, long-forgotten - oh, all right, completely made-up - north London film studios, responsible for such classic films as Clog Capers of 1932 and Breasts of the Vampire. Profiling a fictional organisation that was equal parts Ealing, Hammer, Gainsborough, Handmade Films and Carry On, it's a richly imagined, brilliantly executed and very funny alternate history. Played entirely straight - essential for any great spoof - the film clips are as beautifully realised as the also the documentary itself, an affectionate take on a certain sort of factual filmmaking, infused with the passion and occasional pomposity that characterises it, from self-important opening narration to the over-extended closing montage - soundtracked, inevitably, by Coldplay's Fix You. A Terry Gilliam cameo is merely the final treat in a wonderful pilot that simply demands a full commission.

Radio Times review

Peter Capaldi plays it straight as a film buff and devotee of the now defunct Cricklewood Studios. Pure fiction, of course, but pinning spoofs of cheap British movies and even cheaper British movie stars onto a made-up studio lets Capaldi and co-writer Tony Roche have some arch fun.

Capaldi presents this "documentary" celebrating the output of his beloved Cricklewood Studios (now a DIY superstore). He recalls Florrie Fontaine (Lindsay Marshal), a terrifyingly cheerful Gracie Fields-type singer whose career died when she became friendly with Nazi high command: "I speak as I find, and they were grand company."

Watch out for Hustle's Kelly Adams as a Barbara Windsor-ish bimbette, star of the Thumbs Up series. But the show is stolen by Terry Gilliam, playing himself, a profligate director who brought the studio to its knees.

Cricklewood Greats, BBC Four, review

Isabel Mohan reviews Cricklewood Greats, The Thick of It's Peter Capaldi's spoof documentary on BBC Four.