What is this, “Letters
Week?”
It appears to be.
Though I am simply going with the flow. (And I’ve been criticized for not being
spontaneous. Ha!)
In response to a response of mine concerning I no longer
remember what, reader Wendy M. Grossman – and I thank you for your patronage –
writes:
“I guess the obvious
question is can you still write characters like yourself when they do things
that embarrass or scare you?... So if you are writing characters who are close
to you, do you have the problem of a protective instinct kicking in or are you
able to let them crash to the ground if that’s what they’re going to do?”
Various thoughts come to mind in response to Wendy’s
question. Clearing the underbrush before
wading into the jungle:
“Can you still write
characters like yourself when they do things that embarrass or scare you?”
Answer: Allow
me to divide that question into two parts. I can write about characters that embarrass me, because, in real life, I
am not (at least not retrospectively) ashamed of being embarrassed. As a regular reader, Wendy, you have seen me
express embarrassing opinions (though I have kept a couple of the “doozies” to
myself) and seen me admit to
behaviors that were decidedly less than commendable. (A recent e.g.: I abandoned Major Dad after producing its twenty-second and, I had been led to
understand, season-ending episode and decamped to a health spa, even though the
network order was expanded to twenty-six
episodes. My “Finest Hour”, that was
not.)
I can therefore write embarrassing moments for my characters
because I am not neither unfamiliar nor uncomfortable with that unfortunate
emotion. As for “scary”, I do not recall
a situation where I wrote a character who was legitimately frightened. “Nervous and anxious”, absolutely. But, for me, comedy and “really scared” have
never inhabited the same venue. (Of
course, there is always “funny-scared”
– see almost any movie starring Abbott and Costello – but I never wrote for
Abbott and Costello – I was too young which is possible even for me – nor for anyone
else in comedic jeopardy.)
My next point, I shall excavate more deeply on another
occasion, perhaps even tomorrow. But for
today, responding to Wendy’s
“….do you have the
problem of a protective instinct kicking in or are you able to let {your
characters} crash to the ground if that’s what they’re going to do?”
This question appears premised on the idea of “failing”
being a negative, and that I would consequently want to insulate my characters
from it, either because I am proprietary on those characters’ behalf, or because
my characters are a reflection of “me” and portraying their failure may be
disquietingly “too close to home.”
Now…
Answer: As I
am no stranger to embarrassment, I am
at least equally if not even more
familiar with failure. Although I shall delve into failure in
greater depth anon, let me simply assert here that though “handling failure” is
measurably “Light Years” from my shiningest attribute, my difficulties in that department
have never kept me from examining the issue in my scripts. (With hopes of possibly learning
something.) (And also, we should
remember, comedy is virtually entirely
about failure. Deleting “failure” from
the “play list” leaves you with successful people who aren’t funny. “How did that work out for you?” “Magnificently.” Where’s the big “ha-ha” in that?)
Here’s the thing, and, as with “failure”, it probably
deserves a blog post of its own, but I am not busy, so I’ll keep going.
One of the great distinctions between the “new” and “old”
comedy is that the line has been moved concerning “what’s acceptable to say”,
and whether you as a comedian are willing to say it.
Starting with Richard Pryor (with a nod to Lenny Bruce and
Professor Irwin Corey), the boldest practitioners ventured uninhibitedly into
areas other comedians steered scrupulously
clear of, feeling either too uncomfortable themselves or fearing they would
make their audiences uncomfortable, therefore failing at their intended goal of
entertaining them and summarily getting fired.
Taking one recent example of “The New Comedy”, judging from Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David
appears to be almost entirely shameless, and, as a result of his apparent
shamelesness, comedically liberated. (At
this point, though the narrative requires it, I am too uncomfortable to offer
examples. I suggest we go “interactive”
at this point, and you fill in with examples of Curb Your Enthusiasm taste-barrier obliterators of your own.)
“But Earlo,” you say, “you are confusing ‘Larry David’ the
‘comedic construct’ with Larry David the actual person.”
Am I? (He replied
skeptically.)
Who made those ideas up, or at least approved them when they
were proposed by one of his writers? And
who went in front of the camera and delivered that material? And what was the name of that “comedic construct”?
The answer to all three:
Larry David.
The less you feel required to conceal – that the regular
person reflexively conceals – the
more “cutting edge” funny you can be. As
long as there’s “taboo” – and comedians willing to “go there” – there will
continue to be comedy. We hit “Anything
goes”, however, and all bets are off.
The Supreme Court sanctions “inter-species marriage”, and it is “Game
Over” for comedy. (Though there will
always be “Take my ewe – please!”)
Which is not exactly what Wendy was asking about but it peripherally
came to mind.
Overall, in response to your question, Wendy: I do not protect my characters. I primarily protect myself.
Did that inhibit my writing ability?
Within my range, I was pretty good. But, in retrospect, I may have left too much
of the playing field to Larry David.
And perhaps I still do.
2 comments:
For embarrassing episodes you can't beat George's mother catch him doing "you know" with a Glamour magazine.
I appreciate the lengthy answer to my question and apologize for not having the chance to say so sooner.
The reason it occurred to me was simply that I remember reading some advice to writers that you should save your protective instincts for the people you care about in your life and allow all manner of miseries to happen to your characters. Since you sound like a kindly sort of person, it just occurred to me to wonder if you found it at all difficult.
You have given me thoughts to chew on, a high compliment.
wg
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