NightWatch review by Daisy May and Charlie Cooper – Siblings in this country are adorable together | television

TThe last time I reviewed something with Charlie Cooper as ‘himself’, he or she was visiting folklore hotspots around the British Isles as presenter of Myth Country. I was struck by the impossibility of pinpointing where his most famous creation, Curtan, in the brilliant and heartbreaking comedy “This Country,” written by Charlie and his sister Daisy May, stopped, and the real Cooper began. Or, if you prefer, where the real Cooper stopped and Kurtan began. What were we to make of him listening with genuine delight on his face to a man playing an old local tune on a tape recorder before declaring with perfect Courtani sense and timing that the reason for this was: “It’s murder in the wrong hands”? He has watched with admiration as a friend with a divining rod approaches and re-approaches some ancient stones near the Avebury Historic Site of Neolithic ruins, but is not actually part of it. “I dread to think how long he’s going to be here doing this,” Cooper/Kurtan whispered to the camera. “He is light years ahead of his time.” Then a quintessentially Kurtan anxious pause. “Or light years behind his time.”

I thought of Fractal Copper – genius? poet? Puppet Who is right twice a day? – in many quiet moments since then. So she welcomed the opportunity to stay with him for a while again in Daisy May and Charlie Cooper’s NightWatch, a blocky Halloween schedule in which he and Daisy – who plays Kurtan’s cousin Kerry on the sitcom – spend the night in various spooky locations in the hopes of being visited by ghosts, an ambition they’ve shared ever since they were playing with Ouija toys when they were Two children. And while I cannot yet say that I have the measure of the man, whose essence is perhaps as uncaptureable as the ghosts they seek, it is possible to guess that there are at least two threads running through both artist and invention.

One of these reasons is that they have the patience of a saint in dealing with Daisy May and Kerry, both devils of chaos, in very different ways. Our first look at Daisy is of her emerging from a crystal shop laden with protective amulets for her adventures. Our second story is of unpacking their belongings for their overnight stay in the long-abandoned Gloucester Prison, which is said to be haunted by the spirits of the 123 men who were hanged there. She brought with her pillows, a dry robe, a stuffed unicorn (“for comfort”), fairy lights, a face mask, a foot mask, two bottles of hot water and some pillows. “It’s like a clown’s bag,” her brother marvels as items continue to appear. He’d brought a small backpack with him, which at least meant he was good for riding duties. She doesn’t have a phone though. She has to borrow it to order them pad thai. My ambition in life is to be much more than Daisy Mae Cooper. Why shouldn’t we, as it suddenly occurred to me, be so comfortable?

The second common denominator between Charlie and Kurtan is that they are both romantics. Stuck in a life he doesn’t want, but can’t fully reimagine in this country, is Kurtan’s tragedy. Here, in the real world, that’s the magic of Charlie. He wants to see not just a ghost, but “a brave Victorian ghost, like a jailer!” When they are put in the little cell for the night, while Daisy Mae rests with her pillows and her unicorn, she looks into the mirror above the sink and wonders at all the faces she has seen herself reflected in over the years. “Very impressive, actually.” He also commented that Daisy Mae doesn’t have to worry about him waking up in the night to pee. “You’re like a hippopotamus. Once you’re asleep, you’re done, there’s no one to wake you up.” No matter who they are, brothers are always brothers.

And that’s the main attraction of the show, which is built on its weakest premises – seeing the siblings together, and the unadulterated camaraderie between them. Which, as any sibling knows, consists of equal parts bickering (“I’m coming home!” Charlie threatens as Daisy May carries him with another suitcase from the car. “Good!” his sister answers immediately. “Happy!”), shared memories (“Charlie and his father chasing a burglar down the street in their matching underwear”) and negotiating the dangers of farting (“I sucked the mattress on top of me your molecules”). says content Daisy May, who took the lower bunk). Subsequent episodes have more of the same (“You’ve got the skinny of a highwayman,” Daisy May says appreciatively as she heads into an inn notorious as a stop for historical thieves and their victims) and even occasionally strays into moderately revealing territory as the long nights pass.

For those who like their Halloween programs heavier on supernatural investigations, this won’t fit at all – the only nod towards it in the first program is Daisy May laughing herself to death while Charlie waves a spirit radio around the place; In the second case, they set up a teddy bear that senses temperature changes in the bar and goes to bed. But for those of us who can’t wait for this stupid, festival season to be over, and who love the Coopers and This Country beyond measure – well, let’s enjoy our precious time together.