The Miranda Effect

Every Monday night this term, I have patiently and loyally tuned in to watch the latest episode of Miranda. After the past couple of series of goofiness and misunderstandings, we’d all probably had enough of it. There’s only a certain amount of anthropomorphic fruit one can stand. However, after having wisely kept off our screens for a few years, Miranda Hart was back on Boxing Day, ready for another season. And as the last episode came and went last week, I find myself actually missing my Monday-night dose of slapstick.

Miranda has a weird effect on my mind; a bit like watching my parents interact with friends I bring home. Inevitably, I can’t help but observe. I hope that this time it will be different, that they will be cool and poised, but alas I end up cringing with embarrassment time after time. I doubt the show was created with the intention of being such a tragicomic form of light entertainment: someone wrote the script with the idea that people would be rolling around in laughter. Every time Miranda exits a door carrying an object evidently too large to fit through it, or walks into a conspicuous pile of boxes, we are at least supposed to smile, or giggle, if not laugh out loud. Don’t get me wrong, there is laughter in Miranda, and lots of it, but it is not for the slapstick, because we dread her making a fool of herself, and dread is not an emotion that gets us rolling around. So why do we still love Miranda? Why, even though we physically suffer when she slips or farts, do we still tune in and smile with satisfaction when the simple, cheerful titles come up?

We feel for Miranda because she is a worse version of all of us, but still has more confidence. We feel for her because she is more dignified when her mother tries to marry her off to strangers than whilst performing any everyday task. We feel for her because she does not settle for bad timing with Gary, but waits patiently for the right moment to occur. Miranda manages to give depth to a 2D character designed to fall over and knock things down. She is a stereotype with an unapologetic personality that we can’t help appreciating, if not loving. In addition, when she’s not trying too hard to be funny, she is actually hilarious. She is at her best while pinpointing the flaws of her posh friends, or bantering with her bestie, and I personally can’t avoid recognizing myself in her as she admits to being scared of peeing in a field at a festival. In all honesty, don’t we all wish we could be as cool as her as we fall over in front of a large lecture theatre full of people, or send an embarrassing message to the wrong person? I know I do.