On my only visit to Saturday
Night Live, I witnessed a sketch that has stuck with me for almost twenty
years.
(Clarification for the Archives: During its first season, Dr. M and I visited SNL, but for the Dress Rehearsal, which
took place around six P.M. When it
ended, we promised Lorne Michaels we’d return at eleven-thirty for the actual
show, which we sincerely intended to do.
Instead, however, after having dinner and taking a short
walk, we returned to our hotel and, while waiting to go back to the studio, we
went to sleep.
If I had needed any, this was determining evidence that my
working on SNL would not have worked
out. “I know it’s the show, but Earl’s
asleep in his office. Do you think we
should wake him?”
That job was definitely not for me.)
The sketch that I still recall twenty years after the fact
did not get enormous laughs. But it was
very clever – it might have been one of those “after 12:30” sketches, where
they take more chances. Its premise
concerned an issue I have always been curious about.
The Guest Host that night was Michael Keaton, post Mr. Mom, pre Batman Returns. Keaton was
featured in this sketch, playing a new employee being shown the ropes by his
boss. The boss informs Keaton that his workers
are a relaxed, fun-loving bunch, who enjoy playfully teasing each other, so if
the New Guy, Keaton, wants to fit in, he should jump in with some good-natured
razzing. Keaton replies, “No problem.”
While being introduced around the office, Keaton, following
his boss’s encouragement, pokes fun at everyone he meets.
The “funny part” is, he is terrible at it. His problem – in a phrase I would use as a
show runner when a writer pitched a good but overly exaggerated joke – was,
“Too much gunpowder.”
Keaton’s insults were of the sledgehammer variety, drawing
anger, rather than amusement.
(SPOTTING SOME FLAKES ON A CO-WORKER’S SHOULDER) “Do you
have dandruff, or is it just snowing over your desk?”
(PASSING A CO-WORKER WITH OCULAR DIFFICULTIES) “I hope that
guy’s not as lazy as his eye.”
(TO A HEFTY CO-WORKER)
“MAN! You weigh a TON!”
Things do not work out, and the new employee is immediately sent
packing. After he leaves, the office
erupts with a fusillade of insults at their “almost” co-worker’s expense, each
of them “pitch perfect” in their ability to elicit laughter without injury.
The message is: Some
got it, and some don’t.
For the record, I ain’t got it. I’ve tried.
The results are close, if not equal to, the bombs Keaton exploded in the
SNL sketch. No laughter.
Sometimes, an apology was necessary.
And in the most egregious cases, a gift.
I don’t know what it is.
Tone. Touch. Intention.
A twinkle. Some people can pull
it off, and some are well advised to steer clear. Teasing is a dangerous undertaking, which can
sometimes blow up in your face. Worst
Case Scenario: A trial.
My older brother unquestionably has the gift. He can eviscerate people, while making them
feel proud they’ve been singled out for attention.
His most famous excursion occurred at the end of a luncheon,
celebrating his son Bill’s Bar Mitzvah. My brother M.C.’d the proceedings, and it was
now time to call on Cantor Soberman, the synagogue’s longtime Assistant Cantor,
to come up and lead the guests in a blessing after the meal. Cantor Soberman was famous for his melodic
but distinctly foghorn-sounding voice.
As the cantor rose from his seat and headed towards the
microphone, my brother filled the time by saying,
“You’ll have to forgive the cantor. He’s has a cold for the past twenty-five
years.”
The place went nuts!
My brother’s wife slid under the table in embarrassment. I sat there, marveling at his chutzpah (The Audacity of Jew), envying
a laugh that was bigger than the ten biggest laughs I had ever gotten added
together, and wondering how he could
get away with this and I couldn’t.
Could it be genetic?
But then, how come my brother got it and I didn’t? Of course, I’ve still got hair and he doesn’t.
You see how bad I am at it?
I think a gift is in order.
Perhaps a hat.
Nope. It’s still not
there.
1 comment:
When I was a boy of about eight or nine, I went to see my older brother in play violin with his school's orchestra.
After the concert, my parents and I went to meet him. He was standing around with other musicians and my brother asked me what I thought. I said that I liked it, but that I heard a mistake in the horn section. A fellow behind my brother overheard this went slightly red and put his hand up to his face in embarrassment. My brother glowered at me and said, "It was the STRINGS. It was in the STRING section!"
After a heated debate in the car (my life was spared by my parents), I realized some years later that I had several things:
1. A musically-inclined ear.
2. A big mouth.
When I developed a sense of humor, if I was to inclined to crack wise, I learned, over time, to try not to offend or insult and I have that flustered horn player to thank, in part.
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