Let's talk for just a minute about Rhys Darby, New Zealand's most delightful and enigmatic national treasure. My fiancé and I just finished watching Short Poppies, Darby's 8-episode faux-documentary, centering on the overly-ordinary and completely unusual fictional small town of "The Bay". In each episode, The Bay's mockumentary focusses on one townie of choice, always effortlessly and hilariously played by Darby.
Now, I cannot express to you how madly important it is for you to (finish my blog) and then immediately open Netflix and binge watch all eight in a row. They're each less than a half an hour -- you won't have to call in sick from work or anything -- and it will end up being the best (approx) 3 hours of your entire month...or your life, depending on how things are going for you.
For anyone who's a fan of Kiwi comedy -- and if you're not, you really should be -- you will immediately recognize Darby from his fucking perfect portrayal of pitiful, lovable, sad-sack band manager Murray, in Flight of the Concords. I dare anyone to watch that show and not realize halfway through the series that Murray is their landslide favorite member of the band.
Rhys Darby more than delivers in Short Poppies. From Terry Pole, the first resident of "The Bay" we're fortunate enough to meet, the leg model and local lifeguard, to my own personal favorite Mary Ledbetter, the leader of the Lady Walkers who delights in delivering personal criticisms to everyone in the town, Darby seems to call on old Kids in the Hall folly and mix it with his own over-the-top yet somehow totally understated portrayal of each character.
Sprinkled with fun and surprising cameos -- in front of and behind the camera -- I'm already longing to watch the series a second time. I know for a fact that there were moments when I was laughing too hard and too loudly to be fully confident that I heard everything that was being served up in front of me on a fucking comedy platter.
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