Here's a special for today: Donald Fagen on Jean Shepherd. The hook is that Shepherd is "The Man Who Told A Christmas Story," but Fagen makes it clear that Shepherd's oeuvre is deeper and richer than just that. I was never as devoted a fan of Shepherd's as Fagen, but I certainly remember some wonderful stuff from the early Playboys (I got it for the articles!). There was Shepherd off to school leaning forward into the snow and wind like (I quote from memory) "A hood ornament on an old Packard." There was the great gravy-boat war (on movie theatre premium night). And there were the neighbors from Kentucky who did not know the meaning of guilt and shame--when the son came home from prison,they thew a welcoming block party.
But Fagen's piece takes an unexpected (to me) turn, when he discusses the darker Shepherd whom he discovered later on stage. I won't steal Fagen's stuff here: go read his whole piece, it's great. But I will offer a generlization. Is it just me, or are we generally disappointed by celebrities when we see them live in standup?
I don't have a broad search set--never laid out 50 thousand smackers to listen to Bill Clinton or Colin Powell. But one reason I don't have more experience is that I've often been disappointed by the experiences I have. I can remember Bill Cosby, saintliest of men, many years ago riffing us through a half hour of pretty good jokes and then drifting into a kind of moony feelgood family values routine, with just enough religion to annoy the eculaar without, I suspect, really pleasing the believers. I can remember Dan Schorr who emerged, on close scrutiny, as just a kindly, affable old man with nothing much to add to what I already knew (and he wasn't even 90 then).
Most--worst--of all, I remember Bill Maher here in Palookaville just a few years back. No one ever called Maher either kindly or affable (or saintly) but he's got a lightning (if somewhat nasty) wit, and I was happy to spill a few coins for the privilege of seeing him face on. And what a bummer: I suppose part of the trouble was thee crowd. These were all true believers: early Bush-haters back before everybody was a Bush-hater, ready to hoot 'n' holler for even the lamest bit of insult or abuse. And Maher was ready to give them they wanted. I suppose you could say it was pretty much like his HBO routines except (a) smuttier and (b) not as funny, and believe me, the combination ain't good.
Leaving the theatre, I saw a giant SVU-style stretch limo--a hearse, really--backed up to the stage door, apparently so the performer could make it from the protections of the green room to the protections of his vehicle without so much as a breath of fresh air from the Palookaville night sky.
I'm not sure what the moral is here, if there is one; maybe that you never want to see your celebrities close up. Remember Joel's test for success on the celebrity circuit: it's when the intended audience says "if he knew me, he would like me." Maybe you can entertain that fantasy when you are watching on the little screen, but when you get too close, you have to wonder if you really like him.
But Fagen's piece takes an unexpected (to me) turn, when he discusses the darker Shepherd whom he discovered later on stage. I won't steal Fagen's stuff here: go read his whole piece, it's great. But I will offer a generlization. Is it just me, or are we generally disappointed by celebrities when we see them live in standup?
I don't have a broad search set--never laid out 50 thousand smackers to listen to Bill Clinton or Colin Powell. But one reason I don't have more experience is that I've often been disappointed by the experiences I have. I can remember Bill Cosby, saintliest of men, many years ago riffing us through a half hour of pretty good jokes and then drifting into a kind of moony feelgood family values routine, with just enough religion to annoy the eculaar without, I suspect, really pleasing the believers. I can remember Dan Schorr who emerged, on close scrutiny, as just a kindly, affable old man with nothing much to add to what I already knew (and he wasn't even 90 then).
Most--worst--of all, I remember Bill Maher here in Palookaville just a few years back. No one ever called Maher either kindly or affable (or saintly) but he's got a lightning (if somewhat nasty) wit, and I was happy to spill a few coins for the privilege of seeing him face on. And what a bummer: I suppose part of the trouble was thee crowd. These were all true believers: early Bush-haters back before everybody was a Bush-hater, ready to hoot 'n' holler for even the lamest bit of insult or abuse. And Maher was ready to give them they wanted. I suppose you could say it was pretty much like his HBO routines except (a) smuttier and (b) not as funny, and believe me, the combination ain't good.
Leaving the theatre, I saw a giant SVU-style stretch limo--a hearse, really--backed up to the stage door, apparently so the performer could make it from the protections of the green room to the protections of his vehicle without so much as a breath of fresh air from the Palookaville night sky.
I'm not sure what the moral is here, if there is one; maybe that you never want to see your celebrities close up. Remember Joel's test for success on the celebrity circuit: it's when the intended audience says "if he knew me, he would like me." Maybe you can entertain that fantasy when you are watching on the little screen, but when you get too close, you have to wonder if you really like him.
2 comments:
Here's a good basic principle: Never meet anyone whose work you enjoy. Don't go to book signings if you already like the author's work; he can only prove disappointing in person.
Shepherd was an original American genius, of which the movie A CHRISTMAS STORY is but the most famous but not the greatest part. Improvising radio talker for decades, author of innumerable stories and articles,creator of several TV series and three full-length TV movies based on his stories, etc. Inspiration to scores of media people--Seinfeld, Olbermann, and tens of thousands of fans, etc. Find out more on www.flicklives.com and from my book EXCELSIOR, YOU FATHEAD! THE ART AND ENIGMA OF JEAN SHEPHERD.
EXCELSIOR, AND KEEP YOUR KNEES LOOSE!
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