The Office Australia review: There’s not a spark of originality in this pointless and toothless dud ​

Why, a decade after the US version ended and more than two decades after the British original bowed out, did anyone think this series was necessary, let alone desirable?

There have been over a dozen other remakes of The Office, everywhere from Chile and the Czech Republic to Sweden and Saudi Arabia. None, however, had any reach beyond their own territory and most of them folded after a season or two.

If you're going to produce another one and have your eye on an international audience, which this obviously does, you'd better be damn sure you're able to do something fresh and distinctive with it.

The makers of the American version realised this early on. After a short, rocky first season that mostly repurposed Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant's scripts, it quickly found its own comedy rhythm and identity, and ended up surpassing the original in terms of both longevity and comedic brilliance.

The Office Australia doesn't bother trying. It doesn't bring anything new to the table, just plenty that's old and stale. There's not a spark of originality or imagination here. Everything about it has a hand-me-down feel.

The fact that the series' makers assume it's not necessary to give any context to the comedy is an example of the kind of laziness that runs through the whole enterprise

It doesn't even explain the mockumentary format – it simply takes it as a given that viewers will get it.

While it's probably safe to say that very few Australians won't have seen at least some episodes of the UK or US versions, which were sold around the world, the fact that the series' makers assume it's not necessary to give any context to the comedy is an example of the kind of laziness that runs through the whole enterprise.

The Office Australia trailer

The only significant change – and this, it seems, is The Office Australia's sole selling point – is that a couple of the main characters have been gender-flipped.

David Brent/Michael Scott has become Hannah Howard, manager of the Sydney branch of box company Flinley Craddick. She's played by comedian Felicity Ward.

In the absence of any defining character traits beyond being loud and insufferable, Ward overdoes everything, battering her lines into the floor. Rather than glancing at the camera – an Office trademark – she mugs for it.

There was always an element of pathos in Brent or Scott's cringe-inducing, watch-through-your-fingers moments. Not here. The series tries to replicate the familiar comic beats, but does so joylessly and mechanically. The Gareth/Dwight character is now Lizzie, played by Edith Poor. You have to feel for poor Ms Poor.

Any actor trying to match up to Rainn Wilson's brilliant comic performance as Dwight is probably on a hiding to nothing anyway.

But the writers make it doubly difficult for Poor by giving her precious little to work with.

If anything, the character's brittle, uptight demeanour makes her seem more like Angela from the US version.

There's nothing wrong with gender-flipping characters per se. In this case, though, it creates a problem the series' makers don't seem to have foreseen.

They come across as exactly what they are: pale, lifeless copies of vividly-drawn originals

The adversarial relationship between Tim/Jim and Gareth/Dwight in the earlier versions has been carried over.

Here, Lizzie's tormentor is renamed Nick. The fact that he's pranking a woman rather than another man fatally changes the dynamic. It comes across as more than a little creepy.

None of this is helped by the fact that Steen Raskopoulos as Nick and Shari Sebbens as Greta – the Australian version of Dawn/Pam – make for a charmless couple. They're smug rather than likeable.

In fact, it's difficult to warm to any of the characters because none of them are really given a personality. They come across as exactly what they are: pale, lifeless copies of vividly-drawn originals.

The opening episode attempts a small nod to topicality. Hannah is told by a rep from head office that, with most employees now working from home, the company is closing its regional branches, so she has to urgently drag her reluctant troops back to their desks to save her little fiefdom.

If the first instalment barely deserves the description 'comedy', the second, which sees Hannah organising an office pyjama party, is even worse and seems to drag on forever.

I'll be surprised if this pointless, toothless dud gets a second season. It doesn't deserve one.