![]() Vince and Errol’s respective storylines still anchor proceedings, but 15 Storeys High owes a debt to the vignette-laden patchwork of tower block living inherited from its radio predecessor by occasionally refocusing its perspective to the lives of the other inhabitants who share the dowdy confines of the looming edifice. Far less interested in the pursuit of a perfect narrative, the show instead concerns itself with exploring the mundane intricacies of everyday British life. 15 Storeys, however, is plotted loosely, a show which ambles and meanders towards no particular location, far more interested in taking its time examining character than bolting towards a specific eventual destination. Most sitcoms actively chase their ultimate terminus, every beat designed to arrive at a predestined denouement wherein its converging characters and storylines reach full comic (dis)satisfaction. Like all great works, 15 Storeys High is the pursuit of a vision. Yet despite its apparent obscurity, 15 Storeys High deserves the same acclaim and adoration as the great shows which cemented the legacies of Gervais, Merchant, and Kay. Sadly, it failed to find the mainstream traction which contemporary sitcoms such as The Office and Phoenix Nights had enjoyed, with co-creator Mark Lamarr recently stating that his dearly departed friend was despondent at the lack of widespread attention his first full sitcom had achieved. ![]() The show’s transfer to a more mainstream, more visual format expanded its comedic arsenal, a grey filter and some quirky camera positions heightening the sense of urban claustrophobia. Out went Peter Serafinowicz’s portrayal of sidekick Errol, Sean’s (now Vince’s) docile flatmate, a young Benedict Wong introduced to better embody the submissive, naïve whipping boy who might’ve seemed less believable with his radio predecessor’s six-foot frame. The studio laughter, the constant clunking sound of the lift taking us to another floor of the show’s fictitious tower block, the awful intro music, all were stripped away when 15 Storeys was reborn as a TV sitcom on BBC3. Originally a BBC4 Radio 4 series entitled Sean Lock’s 15 Minutes of Misery, later rebranded as Sean Lock: 15 Storeys High, the show found moderate success on the airwaves, although one still senses a creation straining to find its true voice, its most perfect iteration. It is his little-seen sitcom, 15 Storeys High, however, which shines brightest as the Surrey-born comedian’s greatest comedic legacy, an intimate, bespoke work which reveals so much of the late comic’s glorious comic mind and his innate understanding of the minutiae of British culture. Lock’s panel show ability was legendary, a man who could consistently churn out ideas of unique ingenuity and voice, a one-man comedy factory of invention and wit. Sean Lock’s recent passing provoked an outpouring of feeling so genuine and widespread that it felt as though the country had lost a mutual family member, such was the comic’s uncanny ability to be so gloriously esoteric yet so universally accessible. One of the few glimmers of hope that we take from the loss of any great icon is having the chance to rediscover their buried catalogues of underappreciated work.
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