Now the national treasure has done it again, with the deftly accomplished sitcom Fisk (Wednesdays, 9pm, ABC and iView). Continuing her screen evolution, she’s taken on a genre that, in recent decades, has been fearfully regarded locally. Commercial free-TV networks have seen sitcoms as a risky proposition to be assiduously avoided, and the ABC and SBS have invested sparingly.
Happily, if not surprisingly, she nails it, starring as the frequently brusque Helen Tudor-Fisk. A lawyer who’s relocated to Melbourne following a marriage break-up – her husband left her for an older woman – she fibs her way into a job with an unprepossessing firm of suburban solicitors.
Gruber & Gruber specialises in probate and will cases. Sexy, no? No. This is not a show that has any interest in the potentially glamorous side of the law: no headline-grabbing criminal cases or courtroom grand-standing here.
And, in keeping with the milieu, its quietly grumpy protagonist mostly gets around in shapeless dust-brown pantsuits and clumpy shoes. She can’t do small talk, is uncomfortable about hugging and dislikes the word “moist”.
Helen appears habitually braced for battle against the insults and indignities of the world, and struggles to maintain a civilised demeanour.
But while she might feel buffeted by life’s absurdities and privately fuming, she’s never defeated. And there are things that Helen does like: her dog, soup, watching TV, scones and butterscotch.
Kitty Flanagan co-writes, co-directs and stars in Fisk.
The series features a classic yet clever construction with a well-chosen core cast and ample space for guest stars to arrive with each case that comes in the office door.
Among the regulars are Marty Sheargold and Julia Zemiro as Ray and Roz, the brother and sister running the firm, although Roz has been suspended from the profession and is therefore limited to office-manager duties. Joining them is well-meaning clerk and self-appointed webmaster George (Aaron Chen).
Debra Lawrance and George Henare play Helen’s aunt and her partner, while the equally well-cast guests have so far included Glenn Robbins, John Gaden and Glenn Butcher.
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The series was written by Flanagan with her frequent collaborator, her sister Penny, with whom Kitty also sometimes sings (yes, she can do that too). And they’re smart enough to include a cute dog in the mix. As well as containing beautifully observed comedy and some deliciously sharp dialogue, their series is disarmingly warm-hearted.
A dispute in the first episode, for example, features the tightly wound Ruth (Alison Whyte) who wants to prevent her brother (Robbins), a penis painter who has five children by five different women, from sharing in their mother’s inheritance unless he gets a vasectomy.
Following various mishaps, the episode ends with Roz happily getting her portrait painted by the aforementioned artist. Meanwhile, Helen and Ruth, perched on milk crates at the back of a convenience store, bond over cheap coffee and shared grief at the loss of a parent.
Kitty Flanagan in 1996, the era of Full Frontal.
Helen has been banned from the local cafe – apparently a regular occurrence, according to her ex-husband (Bert LaBonte), who appears in the third episode – but that’s another story. The third episode also features Colette Mann, productively taking time away from Ramsay St to steal her scenes as a daffy, sly kleptomaniac.
While some of her recent work has focused on her (many) suggested rules for a good life in a civilised society, in person there’s not a hint of the strident rule-maker. As an interview subject or at work on-set, Flanagan is humble, courteous and hard-working. As a screen presence, she’s spirited, funny and continually evolving.
Whatever she does next, which hopefully will include another season of Fisk, it will be worth watching.









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