Culture that made me: Oliver Callan on his influences, from the Coen brothers to Scrap Saturday
Satirist and broadcaster Oliver Callan tells Richard Fitzpatrick about some of his influences
Quentin Tarantino and playing with timelines
I was lucky enough that I grew up in the 1990s where film output seemed to be better than the 1980s, which was quite frivolous or lightweight like action movies, whereas 90s films seemed to be heavier questioning and artistically more challenging.
I’m a big Quentin Tarantino fan, for example, and the 90s was his era. I love the idea that a good story has a beginning, middle and an end, but not necessarily in that order.
Pulp Fiction or Reservoir Dogs being classic ones where stuff is happening in different periods so you’re unsure what timeline you’re watching.
The Coen Brothers and films that speak to outsiders
I’m a huge fan of the Coen brothers. Their films kind of speak to little nerds and outsiders like myself because they’ve taken an alternative way of looking at stories. They’re all about these mad, strange and unusual characters, people on the side-line of extraordinary events.
Like Fargo is a murder mystery, but it’s also about William H. Macy’s character and his kooky manner: “I’m cooperating here.”
And the fact that Frances McDormand’s character is eating her way through the film and her husband is utterly unconcerned about this series of killings that have happened in this tiny town.
I just love the way they subvert stories and the way they parody – that’s what really interests me about their films.
Scrap Saturday and satirising sacred cows
Scrap Saturday was fearless. Dermot Morgan challenged the people who decide what material we’re allowed to laugh at – and he challenged the idea that there are sacred things that we can’t ever blemish with comedy.
There wasn’t even such a thing as local radio when he was doing Scrap Saturday. He was taking on the [national broadcaster] on its station, which is why he only got to broadcast two seasons of the show.
I’d no idea who Jim “Biddy” Tunney was at the time I was listening to it – even in hindsight I hardly know – but the character was a wonderful portrayal of sycophancy and the unquestioning, blind cheerleaders and lick-arses of Irish politics.
He was a consummate character and completely exposed: “Please, Fianna Fáil party members be upstanding. Get on your feet. Stand up! Clap your hands! The man of the moment! Charlie-fucking-Haughey!”
It was such a hilarious voice. I think it was Gerry Stembridge doing it.
Father Ted and Irish-bashing
When I was at secondary school Father Ted was out on television. We used to walk a bit of a distance to get the bus to school [in Co Monaghan].
I’ll never forget there was a neighbour on a tractor I’d pass and stop the odd time with for a chat. I remember him saying: “What do you think of that old Father Ted programme? It’s not right, is it? Making fun of the Irish on British television.”
I just thought what a way to get the whole thing completely wrong. It was criticised more in Ireland than it was in England, purely for the fact that the show was perceived to be laughing at Ireland – that it was exposing us, using our own sense of humour.
The Office and finding humour in pain
The Office was ground-breaking, particularly when you were among the first audiences watching it, wondering: “Have you seen this show?” “Is it a documentary?” “Is it real?” Nobody knew.
The genre of mocumentary – and the way it was shot – didn’t really exist at the time. Now we’ve seen so much of it. You were asking yourself: “Why am I watching this? It’s making me cringe.
I die of embarrassment watching it.” Yet it was so funny. There’s a scene where he makes the receptionist cry by laying her off.
He brings the new guy along with him to show him, although he doesn’t know if it’s a prank or for real. There are these deep silences and she’s gasping with tears.
You’re watching, going: “Oh, my God, what is going on?”
George Orwell and deciphering the lies of political and corporate messaging It’s probably the biggest cliché – particularly for the game I’m in – but George Orwell is vital for anyone who wants to do satire.
His 1946 Politics and the English Language essay is all about deciphering codes and the lies of corporate messaging and anything designed to thwart language – to basically blinker the public to the truth.
It’s possibly more necessary now with the coronavirus because governments have a monopoly on communications. If you think of the term “collateral damage”.
It was invented for political spin because it sounds nicer than, “Oh, we’ve killed our own people.”
Or the term “shock and awe” sounds so much cooler, as part of a kind of Top Gun-type mission as opposed to what it is – blowing the smithereens out a civilian population. It’s about the clouding of language.
Eddie Izzard and his alternative view of the world
I used to swap stand-up DVDs with my friends growing up. One of them was Eddie Izzard. I loved his view of the world and his scathing put-downs. He’d talk, for example, about his first time in America: “I come from Europe, you know? Where history comes from.”
He was also just a complete alternative – a man who wore eye-shadow and half-feminine clothes and half-not, like a heterosexual crossdresser, but it never got in the way of the act, which was the impressive thing. His shows are beautifully written, which always stands out. You could read them almost like a novel.
Richard Pryor and putting yourself in other people’s shoes
I remember watching, too, recordings of Richard Pryor’s live stand-up from the 1970s. It was the fact of a black man doing the voice of a white guy going, “Hey, picker-head!” It was so different because growing up we didn’t see black comedians and their version of the world.
It was all about putting yourself in the shoes of someone else so you could see the world from their standpoint. He was really good at doing that.
Radiohead and the voices of our angry youth
I was in college during the George W Bush presidency. With the superior height of age, I can look back now and say, “During college, we were marching against war.” Bush was the guy who “stole the election”.
His time, including the Iraq War, created an array of great anti-war albums. Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief, for example, which was the great album that marked their return to form – back to their origins of The Bends and OK Computer.
When that came out I was obsessed with it. I went to Scotland to see them because they didn’t come to Ireland for that tour. They were political and one of the voices of our angry youth.
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