Inside No 9 Review: Cold Comfort

Cold Comfort sees Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith's dark imaginations at full rein, with brilliant technical innovations that help to invoke the story's mundane setting, enhance its narrative themes and draw out the intricate layers of the script.

Last night's tale was based on the Comfort Support Line call centre, where volunteer Andy gave short shrift to a lady droning on about her dead cat while Chloe, a suicidal teenager caller, led him to make one fatal slip.

The result? The grieving cat lady took her own life while Chloe survived (in fact Chloe had never taken an overdose and she wasn't a teenager girl either).

The story played on the idea that it's the helpers who often need the most help. Liz, Andy's colleague, who'd come for a fortnight and stayed five years, certainly fell into that category. She wasn't the most needy, though, and Chloe's identity was far from the last surprise.

Creepily brilliant, deftly done, these tales surpass all expectations.

The penultimate stand-alone playlet in Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton's brilliantly chilly series starts with an ambulance skidding to a halt outside a house as the occupants scream for help; then we flash back to the start of the day as the family prepares for a party.

Reece Shearsmith plays an insufferable booby with a fondness for practical jokes and Steve Pemberton is his weary nemesis. Claire Skinner is the dutiful, obsessively tidy wife about to have her plans significantly changed.

Another perfectly judged high-wire walk: comedy and tragedy balanced evenly and artfully at all times.

Review: Inside No. 9, 2.4 - 'Cold Comfort'

Having guessed the double-twists of last week's tale, I was relieved "Cold Comfort" managed to outmanoeuvre me.

Although every single episode in this series is completely different, somehow Messrs Pemberton and Shearsmith manage to score one bullseye after another. In tonight's episode, a stressed-out daughter (Claire Skinner) invites her mother (Elsie Kelly) over to celebrate her 79th birthday party. The other guests are an alcoholic sister (Lorraine Ashbourne) and her appalling husband (Reece Shearsmith), and it degenerates into the birthday party from hell. And while the inferno is raging all around her, Granny sits there smiling, endlessly reciting the joke on her birthday card or playing games on her granddaughter's iPad. Imagine a more twisted version of Abigail's Party.

Inside No. 9 series 2 episode 5: Cold Comfort review

The CCTV format, that could have worked well as a pleasing novelty on its own, also makes this 'whodunit'/'who's doing it' a refreshingly inventive take on the genre.

In praise of Inside No. 9

Right; I'll only say this once - watch Inside No. 9.

Cold Comford was this week's Inside No. 9, the number nine in this case being the booth at a version of the Samaritans, the Comfort Support Line.

Steve Pemberton was Andy, its new occupant who quickly realised, first, that his co-workers were not folk anyone should ever confide in and, then, that he too had no talent for "active listening".

Jane Horrocks was good as the office gossip "politely encouraged to move on", but the ultimate twist was crude, and the insight that those who offer help need it most just a little banal - by this series' standards, at least.

After some star-studded shows, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith dial back the celebrity guests for tonight's episode, set in a Samaritans-like call centre. Shot on time-coded CCTV, the episode has the tools to ratchet up the suspense, as volunteer Andy (Pemberton) is drawn into both the dramas of his callers and the tensions of his workplace, as managed by supervisor George (Shearsmith). Ultimately, though, the story lacks both the plausibility and element of surprise that characterise the best of this series.

Radio Times review

More warped brilliance from the minds of Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith, Cold Comfort is set at a branch of Comfort Support Line as volunteer Andy (Pemberton) starts his first day listening to tales of woe from random callers. It unfolds almost entirely via footage from a fixed camera in booth nine, with other CCTV angles, increasingly important, displayed split-screen on the side. Jane Horrocks plays the snarky Liz, sitting in the booth behind, while Shearsmith is their uptight overseer.

As the calls get bleaker and Andy's sympathetic nature is sorely tested, any real helpline volunteers watching this episode may well wince, but it remains gripping throughout. And there's a creepy pay-off.