What do we really gain from yet another remake of The Office? Since Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant’s iconic cringe comedy first aired on British television 21 years ago, it’s been a constant presence in the TV landscape, lingering like an office party straggler who doesn’t know when to leave.
It’s already been remade over a dozen times globally, and now we have a new Australian version, premiering today on Prime Video.
This marks the third English-language iteration of The Office, following the UK original and the wildly popular US adaptation.
Fans of the British or American versions will immediately recognize the familiar setup. Felicity Ward plays Hannah Howard, an obnoxious and socially clueless office manager, following in the footsteps of David Brent (Gervais) and Michael Scott (Steve Carell).
Edith Poor takes on the role of Lizzie, the Australian version of Gareth Keenan/Dwight Schrute, while Steen Raskopoulos and Shari Sebbens play Nick and Greta, the counterparts to Tim/Jim and Dawn/Pam—the charming duo whose will-they-won’t-they dynamic is a key plotline. But of course, we already know how this story goes. We’ve seen it play out twice before.
The issue with the Australian Office isn’t just its lack of originality. If it were merely mimicking the BBC version, that would be one thing.
But this new Office is more like a copy of a copy, borrowing heavily from the American version while losing sight of what made the UK original so groundbreaking.
When the US Office first launched, it began as a fairly faithful remake of the British series but quickly evolved into something distinct.
Gone was the sharp-edged realism of Gervais’ humor, replaced by a softer, more marketable tone. While Michael Scott was prone to gaffes, he wasn’t as pitiable—borderline pathetic—as David Brent.
This exaggerated, larger-than-life quality permeates the Australian version. The storylines, the acting, and the jokes all feel just a bit too overblown.
Would a sensitivity consultant really just show up one day, catching Hannah completely off-guard? Would Lizzie actually try to sell all the office chairs online? It all feels too contrived, and in a format like this, even the slightest hint of artificiality can ruin the experience.
The brilliance of the original Office was in its steadfast commitment to plausibility. Brent was a big personality, but the way the other characters reacted to him was eerily believable.
The situations were mundane—a pub quiz, a training session, a Red Nose Day fundraiser—reflecting the drabness and monotony of real office life.
There was no attempt to glamorize or sugarcoat things, and until the heartwarming final scenes of the Christmas special, the series avoided any hint of uplift.
By contrast, the American Office found fun in the day-to-day, offering a mild fantasy version of office life. Some people prefer that, and many argue the US version is the superior iteration. But the British original was more incisive by design.
In this Australian take, the big twist is the gender-swapped lead. Hannah Howard is a different kind of boss than Brent or Scott, with her smug, girlboss energy replacing their male posturing.
Felicity Ward excels in the role, delivering lines like “Promoting women into positions of power… that’s my mantra” with the perfect mix of sincerity and cluelessness. There’s plenty of humor, but it all feels a bit cartoonish in execution.
There’s a reason why, decades after its original run, David Brent impressions are still so common, and why “David Brent impersonator” remains a viable career option.
Gervais and Merchant had the confidence to create something distinctly British, with all its quirks and specificities.
Non-UK viewers might not fully grasp why Brent rattling off place names like “Reading, Aldershot, Bracknell” is so funny, yet those lines are endlessly quoted by die-hard fans.
The American version, on the other hand, avoided that kind of specificity, instead presenting a more generalized view of small-town America.
It’s telling that, despite more screen time, Michael Scott’s lines haven’t entered the fandom’s lexicon in quite the same way.
Similarly, the Australian version feels modeled on the US Office. In the three episodes made available to critics, there’s little that feels uniquely Australian.
If you were hoping to see how Australian workplaces differ from those in other countries, you’ll leave none the wiser.
Where the original Office gave viewers a real sense of life in a Slough paper company, this version only provides a sense of what The Office would be like if written by Australian comedy fans of the show.
It’s a missed opportunity, because the concept of The Office is endlessly adaptable. There’s no reason why each remake has to follow the same character templates.
Why not shake things up? Make the Tim/Jim/Nick character an ambitious schemer instead of the nice guy, or turn the Dwight/Gareth/Lizzie figure into a more sympathetic role.
The office sitcom format offers endless possibilities, yet every new iteration clings to the same old formula.
But this is to be expected. Like its US predecessor, the Australian Office is designed to be pleasing, and the unspoken rule of remakes is that familiarity is what pleases.
The original Office, however, was never concerned with pleasing its audience—it aimed for discomfort and uneasy laughter at all costs. Can this new version really say the same?
