I’ve not been a great fan of Rowan Atkinson ever since he inflicted the tiresome Mr Bean on the world. And that’s despite his brilliant early work for Not the Nine O’Clock News and as Blackadder some decades ago. Partly, I’ll admit, this is because I once bore a vague resemblance to Atkinson, dressed like Bean, drove a “classic” Mini and was thus laughed at by children in the street. I also went off Atkinson because I just didn’t “get” Bean. Innovative, ingenious and wildly popular as he was. Physical comedy isn’t for everyone.
So I didn’t harbour great hopes for Man vs Bee, which for long stretches does veer into Beanishness, as if Netflix had wanted another Mr Bean of their own, a Beanflix if you like, but for whatever reason couldn’t have the original. Hence Atkinson/Bean is reinvented as Trevor Bingley, a pleasant, well-meaning idiot who has lost his previous jobs through being clumsy and incompetent, funnily enough, and is now a house sitter. Easy, you might think.
