One facet of our brain we often take for granted is its ability to comprehend mortality. Yes, this complex understanding of the end of our existence sometimes leads us to unappealing places – nihilism, existentialism and books titled “God is Dead,” to give a few examples. But it’s a privilege. No other animal gets familiar with death quite like we do.
Then again, as Philomena Cunk (Diane Morgan) tells us in her documentary special “Cunk on Life,” if you lined up 10 dogs and started shooting them down the line, “they’d probably get the gist by about dog four.”
A depressingly hilarious mockumentary with unique witticism in its factual and educational appeals, “Cunk on Life” is something unto itself. As Cunk makes her way through eight chapters, each detailing an aspect of life – Creation, Innards & Outards and Morality & Stuff, among others – she explores the dark things around us and weird things inside us that make us the flawed beings we are.
Morgan’s garbled, deadpan portrayal of the host is both hilarious and thorough. There’s rarely a moment when a brainless quip isn’t being made, and many more drawn-out bits are layered on top of that. The backdrop of Cunk’s journey is a variety of awe-inspiring places in which Cunk’s awkward, grimacing figure appears comically out of place.
Morgan has had a handle on the Cunk character since 2013, but many American viewers may only recognize her from her 2023 Netflix show “Cunk on Earth.” While “On Earth” is delivered in bite-sized episodes, “On Life” is an hour-long experience with humor that gets more unhinged as it progresses.
Much of the special’s comedy is derived from dialogue between Cunk and the “academics, experts and professional mammals” to whom she asks “some of the most significant questions you can say with a mouth.”
“Why do we say people are facing the electric chair when they’ve got their backs to it?” Cunk asks a criminology expert.
As she accidentally insults the lifelong work of these professionals and completely misunderstands basic principles of life – no, Cunk, it wasn’t a ghost who deserted your aunt Carol and drained her bank account; it was an identity thief, and the quantum physicist doesn’t care either way – they get progressively more exasperated. Disparaged looks at the producers behind the camera, heaving sighs and confused head tilts are frequent throughout the special as Cunk presses these unsuspecting experts.
But sometimes, Cunk stumbles on key questions about the nature of human existence. Why did God put the apple in the Garden of Eden if he wanted Adam and Eve to remain perfect? And if no one has proved God’s existence, who’s to say he doesn’t have a brother named Simon? These moments are unexpected and unintentionally though-provoking.
From beginning to end, the special flows smoothly, starting with a chapter on Creation. The Christian take on how the world was born is contrasted with Darwin’s theory, which moves into reproduction and DNA, and then transitions to the mind – psychedelics, meditation and mortality.
Then, Cunk tells us the misery of mortality festered doubt in God, which is how she moves to a discussion of Frederick Nietzche’s “God is Dead.” Of course, an expert has to clarify for Cunk that God is not literally dead.
Philosophical literature leads to “Crime and Punishment”, or as Cunk calls it, “Crimean D Punishment,” which brings up a discussion of capital punishment. This is when Cunk interviews a real (completely fictional) death row inmate named Waylon Jackalope. Before asking him to do TikTok promos for the special, Cunk reminds him of the brutality of the electric chair he will soon face, describing in detail how his organs will boil from the inside out.
Later chapters discuss modern topics like the capitalistic labor system and space exploration. Throughout the whole mockumentary, deranged diversions like the Waylon Jackalope scene pop up. Though a couple are dragged out for too long and end up falling flat, many are peaks of the special. Cunk is at her best when put in a situation as diabolical as her internal monologue.
The most unexpected intimate scene you’ll ever watch, for example, interrupts the chapter called A New Hope, which is about space. If you’re watching with kids, start skipping as soon as you hear the name Edwin Hubble.
Perhaps the best bit in the show happens during a guided meditation by Cunk herself. As Cunk sits criss-crossed in a serene location on screen, her echoing voice that is meant to lead the viewers’ thoughts gets separated from her body. As on-screen Cunk stands up and exits the frame, voiceover Cunk is stuck and starts yelling out for help. A gunshot rings out over the voiceover, before a nondescript male voice apologizes for the alternate consciousness and assures the viewer it’s been taken care of.
“Cunk on Life” takes something as far-fetched as a search for the meaning of life and matches it perfectly with the only documentarian who could let the storyline of human existence fall apart in her hands and still manage to get at the heart of what it means to look for unanswerable answers.
The comedy is deadpan and deranged, but intelligent in the way it mirrors the themes of death, nihilism and existentialism that recur throughout “Cunk on Life.” It’s as if our beloved, brainless host is aware that her pursuit is meaningless, that a definitive answer to the meaning of life is as real as quantum bacon – or something even more obviously fake, like the moon landing.