Oh well, I’m sure Jimmy Carter really did have the best intentions on his inauguration day even though he turned out to be a pisspoor Jimmy Stewart. C’est la vie. But hey time has been good to Carter. Despite the fact that his job approval rating dropped nearly 40% during his actual tenure at the White House, Carter is nevertheless fondly remembered now. Barely two years ago when the folks over at Gallup conducted their greatest US presidents in history poll, Jimmy managed to tie scores with Dwight Eisenhower, Theodore Roosevelt and even one of the founding father’s of our country, Thomas Jefferson. Evidently, the Mount Rushmore reps should have waited til all the figures came in.
Maybe likewise, despite the fact that it may not have been really THAT good, perhaps time has skewed my sense of reality and I remember the Saturday Night Live episodes of the 70s with far more fondness then they actually deserve? Back in the 70s it seemed that everyone who appeared on SNLwas hilarious, from each member of the cast to those particular hosts that appeared with such regularity they might as well have been cast members. Again, I might be romanticizing the past but just saying hypothetically I was old enough to remember with clarity the original SNL broadcasts, I think I can answer emphatically that I’m not romanticizing anything. Those original episodes WERE funnier than any of the later incarnations. They were all about innovation. I’m not saying they didn’t have any clinkers but the majority of what they did, they did first. And sadly, the majority of the thirty years since it’s inception has just been derivative; a variation on those first five years. Every now and again you’ll get a good sequel, but essentially what you’re watching is, in fact, nothing more than that.
Although I don’t really watch it anymore, I recently tuned in to catch host Hugh Laurie in the vain hope that my beloved Steven Fry might make an unscheduled appearance. One of the segments was a talk show featuring two women with heavy Bronx accents. At least in past SNL talk show scenarios, you could find vague reasons as to why the “host” was given their own show. This version only served to show off “wacky accents.” Not only was this heinously unfunny skit a complete and total rip off of “Coffee Talk,” one of the “hostesses” actually came ridiculously close to saying she was verklempt.
But even the talk show format wasn’t new to Mike Myers. Gilda Radner did it way back in the day. And when she did HER version of Barbara Walters, she was taking a real risk. Don’t forget that before Barbara Walters sabotaged her career with that current asinine morning show of hers, she was considered an incredibly respected journalist, garnering worldwide reverence. What made Radner so brilliant was the fact that she wasn’t afraid to mock that reputation. Nowadays of course it’s commonplace to mock everyone; but before Radner, even comedians were reticent about skewering the internationally adored. Now obviously people are always going to be inspired by other people. There’s something to that notion that there are merely six original ideas floating around in the ether. Certainly Shakespeare stole. Mozart stole. But what made both these guys more creative than crook is is the fact that what they stole, they made better. They did not merely plagiarize. So yeah although the “Jeopardy concept” was yet another skit stolen from the original SNL series, in Darrell Hammond’s (& even sometimes Norm Macdonald’s) hands there were more than a few moments of sheer beauty. Unfortunately those moments are overshadowed by the fact that nearly every segment of every season of every SNL since 1980 runs about five minutes too long. There has rarely been an instant since that original season where SNL has left you wanting more. “Brevity is the soul of wit,” just to reference Shakespeare again. And before any of my smartass pals point out that my lengthy blogging style is anything but demonstrative of that idea and also note it was a little weird to mention Shakespeare in the same paragraph as Norm Macdonald, I…grr…I can’t think of anything really cutting to say. So just think of something really cleverly sardonic and pretend I said it to you. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
So, what this all boils down to is, what the hell is wrong with Steve Martin?
Like I said, not only were the shows funnier back then, but so were the people – including the host with the most, Steve “King Tut” Martin. If I’m not mistaken he has hosted SNL more than anyone.
And again while the bits on the show weren’t always masterpieces, they were generally his own. He held so much promise in the early part of his film career as well. Apart from The Jerk being a goofily stupid film, Martin still has moments of perfection from his opening lines, “I was born a poor young black boy,” to that whole thing about the ashtray – which certain members of my familia will still quote at the drop of a hat. Martin, like Chevy Chase and Dan Aykroyd, used to be genuinely hilarious.
And like us who quote The Jerk, I don’t know one guy who doesn’t know how to do an impersonation of Chevy Chase golfing in Caddyshack. Not a huge fan of that one but I ADORE Seems Like Old Times and Chevy has some really outstanding moments in Foul Play.
And of course Dan Aykroyd. What the hey, Dan?! You were, bar none, the greatest actor ever on SNL.
From calling Jane an ignorant slut to the Bass-o-matic; from Julia Childs to (bringing it full circle) Jimmy Carter. No one could touch you with regard to consistency and brilliance. At least you’re not the punch line poor Chevy Chase has become. Actually poor Chevy Chase is so off the radar he doesn’t even really merit punch line status these days. I think your main problem, Dan, is you just want to be taken seriously so badly you continue to put out schlocky performances reminiscent of your earlier schlocky performances in Driving Miss Daisy and My Girl in lieu of creations of genuine genius like Elwood Blues.But to reiterate, the saddest of the three is Steve. What is going on with him and his agent? Surely Steve Martin cannot be that bereft of funds that he has to accept any ole caca that comes along. I mean back in the 70s (from which, to remind you, I am far too young to have any memory), Laurence Olivier was hawking Polaroid cameras and making gems like The Jazz Singer and Clash of the Titans – both of which I proudly admit to loving beyond all measure (I actually own Jazz Singer in 3 formats. Soundtrack, VHS and DVD). I am not ashamed of lovin’ me some Neil Diamond.
But before I begin screaming out “on the boats and on the planes” at the top of my lungs, I brought up Lord Larry for a reason. Olivier made no attempt to hide or excuse the fact he took every crap job that came his way in later years in order to ensure his family’s well-being after his death. Laurence Olivier spent 9/10s of his career giving the world some of the greatest performances and innovations in theatrical history, sacrificing a significant paycheck. Considering he was in increasingly failing health for the last decade of his life, who can blame him for trying to make some easy money towards the end; especially since he was doing it for his family.
I’m really not sure what Martin’s excuse is. Surely he should be making residuals from at least one thing he did in the past. Even if he isn’t making moolah from one of the bazillion magazine articles, plays, CDs or books he’s created, certainly he could sell off one of the Picasso’s or Seurat’s from his private collection if he were that badly in a bind. And let’s face it. A man, who is as clearly a bright, imaginative fellow as Steve Martin, has no reason to do a remake of Peter Sellars’ Pink Panther. And then its sequel. Or Clifton Webb’s Cheaper By the Dozen. And then its sequel. Or Spencer Tracy’s Father of the Bride. And then its sequel. Offhand I can also think of roles originally and memorably created by Phil Silvers, Jack Lemmon and even Marlon Brando that Steve apparently thought weren’t up to his standard. Luckily we have yet to see sequels of these remakes.
You know, it’s not even that I’m adamantly adverse to remakes. Every now and again they can be superior to the original. If your entire career is based on nothing but repetition, however, I think it’s time to reexamine your goals.
Early on Steve Martin generated some genuine magic with the vastly underrated Pennies From Heaven and Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid. I’ll even give him a pass on another remake of sorts, Roxanne, because at least he really did make that his own; but that was over two decades ago! Steve has done really nothing on film since that time other than impersonate other actors. He’s been doing it so long he can’t even remember his own personal style. Now it seems he’s attempting to commandeer Karl Malden’s style circa the San Francisco/American Express years.
Steve! Listen to me. Remember your individuality? Don’t leave home without it!!
