“90% of success is showing up.” –Woody Allen.
“Every great thing you do in life will result from failures, both large and small.” Garry Shandling may never use those exact words to sum up his unusual, successful career, but those of us on the outside looking in believe his career may be one of the best examples you’ll ever find that regardless how often you fail, if you show up to do it all over again, and again, a sweet spot may open up that no one, least of all you, would’ve imagined possible.
No one would look at the physical stature, or appearance of Garry Shandling and think: leading man. If central casting were to draw up a stereotypical leading man for roles in TV and the movies, they might use Garry Shandling … as a contrast for the characteristics they seek. No one, it appears, that listened to Garry Shandling’s early standup routines thought “This man needs to have his own sitcom.” If one were to compose a list of 100 comedians most likely to succeed beyond the stage, the young Shandling may not have made many lists, unless he decided to pursue his career as a sitcom writer. The difference between Shandling and all those “more talented” comedians he succeeded beyond, according to Shandling, was that he continued to show up.
He began his career in comedy, as a writer on the sitcoms Sanford and Son, Welcome Back Kotter, and The Harvey Corman Show. He left the idea of those consistent paychecks, before receiving too many of them, to enter into the far less stable world of standup comedians. The problem with that decision, according to those that have documented Shandling’s career, is that he wasn’t even a good standup comedian. The owner of The Comedy Store, Mitzy Shore, went so far as to refuse to put Shandling on, because she didn’t think he was funny. One of the funniest comedic actors of his generation wasn’t even able to make it on stage, because of his relative lack of talent. The lucky break, if you want to call it that, occurred for Shandling when the other “talented” comedians on The Comedy Store’s roster, decided to strike. That strike was based on Ms. Shore’s decision not to pay her comedians. Shandling made the very unpopular decision to cross that union line, and in total desperation for a body to put on the stage, Shore decided to put him on.
Gary Shandling might even admit that the difference between Garry Shandling and the other comedians that didn’t succeed in the same space, was that he was willing to continue to get on the stage night after night, regardless the circumstances, the pay, or lack thereof, to face the abuse and hectoring of an audience that must have reached a point where they agreed with everything those in the know said about him.
At one point in the Garry Shandling bio, the young man appeared to have made a career-killing decision. He gave up the stability of a good paying job, a job others would’ve killed for, for a job that one of the foremost experts in picking talent (Mitzy Shore) claimed he was ill-suited for. One has to guess that while most of his fellow comedians and friends admired the courage and perseverance Shandling displayed, they must have considered sitting him down at one point and telling him to go back to writing for sitcoms.
No one gave Garry Shandling any reason to believe in his abilities as a performer, in other words, but he continued to show up and hone his act, until a talent scout from The Tonight Show watched him for a number of nights and decided that he had enough to make an appearance on a show that was then considered the Holy Grail for all comedians. After a number of spots, Shandling began guest hosting for Johnny Carson for years, and he was considered the successor for Johnny’s seat, should Johnny ever decide to retire.
Was Shandling ever as funny as Jay Leno or Jerry Seinfeld, or the many other “more talented” comedians of his era that didn’t succeed? It appears that his material was, but his presentation was judged to be so poor that very few, if any, believed he could carve out a career.
He kept showing up. He kept enduring the years of bad nights, presumed harassment and humiliation, and the feelings of failure that had to have resulted from bombing so often that he achieved levels of success in TV and the movies that were unprecedented among most of his peers.
The first step, Shandling instructs, is to show up so often that you get over your stage fright. The import of this advice is that tips and advice may ease the psychological trauma a little, but nothing compares to just doing it so often that the fear becomes more manageable. Writing quality material before you take to the stage may help too, they say, but nothing helps more than just doing it … often.
The next step is to work your material before an audience and tweak it based on their reactions. Some have said that this part of the job is never ending, but at some point a routine does develop. It’s implied throughout this part of the process that you have to have thick skin for those in the audience that help you shape material.
Thick skin, to my mind, is an understatement. How about you have to have rhinoceros skin, or the type of skin necessary to evolve from a sane, somewhat humorous individual to someone that is asking around 450 paying customers a night (the seating capacity of The Comedy Store) three-to-four times a week what they think. The first question that comes to mind is how many paying customers in an audience are understanding in such situations? How many people would pay to see someone perform raw, untested material, and how many people will let you know that you’re no better than them, and you belong sitting next to them in the audience? Unless it’s some sort of amateur night, most people will sit with folded arms, wondering why the owner decided to put some newbie on stage on their night out. These people enjoy the schadenfreude of watching another person squirm. This thick skin requires you, the aspiring comedian, to move past such people, the consistent feelings of failure, the heckling, and the excruciating nights where you’re left alone to adjust your material for the next night of more of the same.
The natural inclination of most sane individuals might be to adjust your material into the exact opposite of everything you did the night you bombed. The inclination may be that those jokes were rejected, and if you want to continue in this craft, you may want to consider a scorched earth policy. It’s often somewhere in between, say successful comedians. You have to believe in the material, they say, and it may require nothing more than some tweaking of the language. You may want to consider adding here; deleting there; emphasizing here; and changing the perspective there. Then, just when you’ve reached a point where you’re comfortable with your material, you’ll want to do a complete overhaul that puts you in an uncomfortable place where you’re nervous and agitated and learning from the audience, because once you’re comfortable you’re done. You’re no longer striving to get better when you’re comfortable, and you’re no longer developing fresh, new material that makes the audience so uncomfortable that they’re laughing with you, as opposed to at you. The space all comedians search for exists somewhere between artistic purity and honesty, a sweet spot that can take years, and over a decade, for some to find.
This struggle, according to Garry Shandling, didn’t involve the material. He may have needed years to shape the material, but the basic task of writing jokes always came easy to him. The presentation, on the other hand, had always been lacking to some degree, and the fact that he kept showing up to put himself in the uncomfortable position of exposing this weakness before others bore fruit in the form of an insecure, neurotic character that was insecure about his presentation skills.
What Shandling did, in short, was combine his greatest strength, and his greatest weakness to form a pure, honest character that he would go onto hone over the course of a decade in the form of two television shows: It’s Garry Shandling’s Show and The Larry Sanders Show. These shows featured a character that knew how to write material but was forever worried about his presentation. These shows resulted in nineteen Emmy nominations, numerous American Comedy Awards, and a spot in the hearts of many standups that regard him as one of the most influential comedic actors of all time.
Garry Shandling’s story is, in essence, the exact opposite of all those sad, depressing “could’ve been, should’ve” stories of individuals that were on the cusp of stardom but didn’t make it … for a variety of reasons. His is the tale of a “couldn’t have been, shouldn’t have been” character that showed up so often, and worked so hard that he was … for a variety of reasons. His unlikely story should remain an inspiration for those marginal talents, that are informed that they are marginal talents, that there may be a sweet spot for you too, if you are willing to work your tail off and show up so often to succeed. It’s your job to find it and hone it.
The one cliché in the Garry Shandling bio is the “no one believed in my talent as much as I did” angle that has been put forth by so many, but in Garry Shandling’s case, it appears to be the unvarnished truth. The non-believers may have been witness to some killer material, but they may have believed that that material would be better served by a more skilled, more charismatic presenter. His is the story of an individual of marginal talents that believed in himself beyond reason.
To those that have never heard of Garry Shandling, or believe that I am overselling the insecure, neurotic characteristics of a man that has succeeded in life to the degree he has, I challenge you to watch the interview Ricky Gervais did with him in 2010. The purpose of this interview, for Ricky Gervais, was to deify Shandling as a comedic luminary, and to pay homage to Shandling as a personal influence. Shandling, however, appears as insecure and unsure of himself in this interview as he may have been as an upstart comedian in 1978. It’s uncomfortable to watch in parts, and in other parts it appears almost confrontational. Even the most informed viewer –that knows the Shandling schtick, and knows that some of it is schtick– can’t help but think that at least some of what they’re watching is an exposé of a man that is uncomfortable in his own skin.
The idea that Shandling has lost it crosses your mind, as does the idea that he might be too old, or that he’s been out of the game so long that he can’t handle this type of interview anymore. There are parts of the interview when you begin to feel so sorry for Shandling, and you want someone to step in and put an end to Shandling’s pain. If you’re an informed viewer that knows the Shandling story, you know he never had it, in the manner some define the elusory “it”, but that doesn’t stop you from watching something that is so unwatchable. A description that even Shandling might admit is a beautiful encapsulation of just about everything he’s done throughout his unusual career.