PLOT: When a kitten gets lost and can’t find her way home, a ragtag gang of hell-raising, foul-mouthed alley cats bands together to keep her safe and help find a way back to where she belongs.
REVIEW: With recent shows like Mating Season and Kevin giving audiences plenty of reasons to put the kids to bed before indulging in unconventional approaches to animated comedies with talking animals, along comes Alley Cats, a hilarious and shockingly introspective project from English comedian Ricky Gervais. Before we go any further, I want to give you some trigger warnings. If you’re an animal lover, and a cat lover in particular, know that Alley Cats includes instances of sad animal death in addition to a ceaseless torrent of foul language. I’m telling you this not to spoil the plot, but to better prepare you for the flood of emotions that could spill forth from this unflinching animated series.
In Alley Cats, a displaced kitten (voiced by Jo Hartley) stumbles into a found family of strays, led by Gus (Ricky Gervais), an overweight, sardonic ginger tomcat. Together with his friends Fang (Andrew Brook), Ponce (Tom Basden), Puke (David Earl), and Olive (Diane Morgan), the gang terrorizes their neighborhood while arguing over the trials and tribulations of being a cat in a world dominated by humans. However, when the kitten enters the group, Gus takes a shine to the new stray and vows to help her find her way back home. Still, before they do that, they’ll impart some valuable life lessons on the young kitten, even if that means shattering illusions about age, food scarcity, and everyday dangers that threaten all nine of their lives.
Almost immediately, Alley Cats makes me think of early Guy Ritchie movies, like Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, in the way the cast speaks to one another through meticulously layered snipes and jabs. Think back to the Odd Couple banter between Sol (Lennie James) and Tyrone (Ade) in Snatch, the way their sharp words cut to the bone as they playfully ribbed one another throughout the film. That’s Gervais’ approach to nearly every conversation in Alley Cats, a high compliment indeed. Then again, it could be a British thing. Either way, the dialogue is smart, oftentimes hilarious, and relentless in the way it takes the piss out of Gus and his ragtag clowder of pals.
While Gus, Fang, Puke, and Olive spend their lives roaming the streets, Ponce (a given name because of his pampered lifestyle) enjoys a life of luxury as the beloved pet of a generous human. Gus and the gang use Ponce’s privilege as a weapon for comedy, although the mollycoddled cat is smarter than any of the others can dare to dream. Ponce adds a lot to the show, which Gervais presents in six 16-minute episodes. The quick delivery of each chapter makes Alley Cats a quick binge for people with limited amounts of time to indulge in this sort of thing, and the swift pace makes sure the show never outstays its welcome.
The relationship dynamic between Gus and Kitten is the heart of the show. The duo shares a parent-child-like bond, with Gus feeling abnormally responsible for Kitten’s well-being. Normally, Gus would tell a helpless stray to “sod off,” but he sees Kitten as a means of redemption for his shitty attitude, devil-may-care antics, and middle-claw-to-the-world-like behavior. Not every lesson Kitten learns through Gus and his friends is valuable, but when no one else is looking out for you, tough love can be comforting in its own strange way. The entire group cares for Kitten, even though they get lost in their mission to reunite her with her family, indulging in catnip, making excuses to have sex with random animals, or lapping up spilt puddles of beer on the sidewalk.
Where Alley Cats takes an unexpected turn is in the show’s approach to discussing mortality. Kitten is young. She does not understand the concept of death, and after witnessing a loss or two, after spending some time on the mean streets, Gus feels compelled to explain the unpredictable ebb and flow of life. These conversations are often brief, but they hit me hard. I’ve experienced a great deal of loss in my lifetime, and have had to say goodbye to several of my sweet fur babies—shoutout to Peanuts, Felix, Tommy, Moo Moo, and Dubs. Alley Cats is unafraid to save you a front-row seat for your emotions to get the better of you if you’re not careful. As hard as it was to confront these parts of the show, it’s also my favorite part of this presentation. The show is laugh-out-loud funny one moment, then bad news comes prowling from around the corner, and the gear shift is harsh.
Should you avoid the show because it’s a bit of an emotional roller coaster? Hell no! It’s also funny as fuck, and if you’re a cat lover, there’s more for you here than the average person. The way Gervais, who wrote and directed the series, likens the cat world to our own is spot-on. There were jokes I could relate to all too well, then I laughed on behalf of my cat, Loki, who was sleeping next to me as I binged the series. The speedy joke delivery and cracking voice performances give Alley Cats an energy and personality that I enjoy, even if some of the comedy leans toward the grotesque from time to time. That’s my wheelhouse, friends. Bring me your weird, crude, and gross tight-five without punching down, and we’re in business.
Look, I know that adult animated animal comedies are in abundance lately, but Alley Cats is worth a watch. The series is a quick shot in the arm of comedy, self-reflection, and gross-out gags that lampoon the animal kingdom and then some. Like anything else in the genre, it’s not going to be for everyone, but it’s certainly for me. I love a show that can make me laugh, and then stop me in my tracks with an existential reckoning. Here’s to all the strays out there that find a way to make it all work. Cheers!