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- Up to Eleven: Jerry Seinfeld (October 1993)
Up to Eleven: Jerry Seinfeld (October 1993)
Issue 04: an interview about nothing?
Hi friends,
For television producers in the late ’80s, network television was a four channel slugfest where your pilot could have ten million viewers and still be a complete failure. In an era where shows were canceled at the first sign of ratings trouble, projects often needed an advocate or champion. Someone to hype the show internally to network executives, programmers, and advertisers, while sticking with the show’s talent and their vision. Upon its debut in the summer of 1989, The Seinfeld Chronicles was one of the worst tested shows ever at NBC and needed a champion. It’s not difficult to understand why test audiences didn’t appreciate the show’s humor, which focused on the mundanity of life with four friends who were the opposite of most sitcom leads at a time where sitcoms focused on families, both on screen and as target audiences, and each episode ended with a hug or a lesson. Seinfeld famously eschewed those traditions and instituted a radical policy for 1989 television of “no hugging no learning.”
All this is to say there's a reason we don’t live in test environments. The network development process isn’t a science and sometimes when talent is given the right support along with enough time to figure out the kinks, shows can eventually find an audience. Not everything happens immediately, especially for a show as different from everything else at the time as Seinfeld. As luck would have it, NBC late night TV executive Rick Ludwin’s conviction in Seinfeld, particularly in Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David’s vision (through years on knowing both from their standup days, especially Jerry who had performed on The Tonight Show many times); as well as, his ability to use some of his late night TV summer budget provided Seinfeld a miracle stay of execution despite its low ratings. With the additional breathing room provided by Ludwin, Seinfeld went from the show that NBC couldn’t kill, to one of the biggest TV phenomenons of the nineties.
(For more on the creation of both Seinfeld and NBC’s Must See TV, we highly recommend checking out the following books: Seinfeldia and Top of the Rock.)
You’ve probably seen a recent video circulating social platforms of Jerry Seinfeld explaining his obsession with comedy on Howard Stern. It’s really great and totally obvious to everyone with the benefit of hindsight that Jerry’s one of the greatest comedians ever. But at the time of the following interview in 1993, Seinfeld’s comedy and show seemed so obvious that many thought it was easy for him and others to conceive of these observations. That’s part of his magic trick and unless you were to apply Charlie Munger’s axiom to “invert, always invert” to Seinfeld’s comedy, you’d wouldn’t realize how difficult it really is. His observational style of comedy is the byproduct of his obsession in the trivial and mundane, but it’s also the result of nonstop trial and error—constantly tinkering with words, phrases, and situations—all for a laugh.
For a show about nothing, Seinfeld’s staying power and relevance are everything; meanwhile its financial muscle keeps getting stronger with each contract negotiation. Much of that comes down to Seinfeld’s timeless quality, which remains relatable and relevant even in today’s smartphone era.
Enjoy!
p.s. We’re putting the finishing touches on our first show’s pilot and we’re very excited to share it soon! We’re currently looking for curious, fearless producer/reporters, who’d like to work on future episodes. If this is you, shoot us a note and we’ll go from there! (paid. ~2.5 days of work per episode)
The Jerry Seinfeld Interview
This interview has been curated from its original form and length to highlight eleven noteworthy passages. While we’ve curated this interview, we have not edited any words from the questions or responses in the passages below. What makes the eleven passages we curate ‘noteworthy’? We have our reasons for selecting everything, but we think it’s better for you to draw your own conclusions. It’s more fun that way, right? We highly recommend reading the full interview here. Enjoy!
Playboy: Are we talking to the real Jerry or the TV Jerry?
Seinfeld: What do you mean?
Playboy: One of your TV show’s conceits is that the real Jerry and the TV Jerry are supposed to be the same guy.
Seinfeld: They’re not that different. But I’m the real Jerry.
Playboy: Can you prove it?
Seinfeld: I have no script. [holds up his hands]
Playboy: That must take away all your image worries.
Seinfeld: I found an acceptable image that was really pretty much me, and that’s how I’ve done everything. That’s why I was able to do the show and why I’ve succeeded as a comedian. I don’t have the energy to maintain an image.
Playboy: So, people who stop you on the street must really think they know you.
Seinfeld: They know me better than they know Dan Rather. You couldn’t predict what Dan Rather would do in most situations, but I think you could with me. I wouldn’t mind an “Excuse me” before a total stranger starts talking to me. That’s the most amusing and most bizarre thing about celebrity. I’m walking down the street, someone walks up alongside of me and says, “So, how come Elaine and you got together only that one time?” They don’t say, “Excuse me, could I talk to you for one second?” Nothing. We’re just talking as if we’ve been talking for blocks. This happens all the time.
Playboy: Whom would you stop on the street just to meet?
Seinfeld: Abraham Lincoln. I’d say, “I’m sorry, I’m sure you get this all the time, but I just think you’re fantastic.”
Playboy: Seriously, are strangers so taken with Seinfeld that they insist their lives are perfect material for the show?
Seinfeld: That’s a compliment. I’m doing something that seems so taken from their own lives they can’t help but assume that everything in their lives must be funny.
Playboy: Are they right or wrong?
Seinfeld: They’re wrong. They may be funny enough to get them through that moment at the water cooler, but they’re not funny enough to be on television in front of millions of people and have them buy a Geo Prizm as a result. I take it as a comment on my skill as a comedian. It seems like nothing. It should seem like something anyone could do.
Playboy: What are the levels of comedy?
Seinfeld: Making your friends laugh, making strangers laugh, making strangers laugh for money and making people act like you.
Playboy: Do civilians always try to make you laugh?
Seinfeld: Could you explain that to me, please? What the hell is that phenomenon? If I meet singers, I don’t go, “Hey, what do you think of this?” and sing. Why would you invite that humiliation by trying to be funny around a comedian? To make a comedian laugh, you have to be funnier than you are when you make your friends laugh. Funnier than you’ve ever been in your life. What are the odds that you’re going to succeed? Why do you try?
Playboy: Are you kind to amateurs?
Seinfeld: I’m very kind. Everyone has a few fake laughs they use to get through life. The snort, the snort-chuckle, the nod-smile, the “That’s good!” But they’re all just nice ways of saying “Stop. Please stop.”
Playboy: So the constant attention of strangers—
Seinfeld: I’m annoyed. But if you’re not cranky and annoyed, you can’t be a comedian. Any good comedian is, by definition, highly irritable. Even I, though I may not seem to be, am constantly irritated.
Playboy: What irritates you?
Seinfeld: Everything. I just hate everything and everybody. And that’s why I’m so funny. If I didn’t have all these sensitivities, I’d have nothing to talk about.
Playboy: Do you owe your public?
Seinfeld: That’s where the money’s coming from, isn’t it?
Playboy: That’s an elegant way of looking at it.
Seinfeld: That’s my job: to understand what’s going on in life, to figure it out. The news, books, magazines and films cover a certain portion of what’s going on. But there’s a lot of stuff that’s not touched on, and that’s my job. To tell you the truth, 75 percent of the world is not touched on except by comedians.
Playboy: First the TV show.
Seinfeld: Oh, Seinfeld. Yes, I’ve seen it. It’s quite a charming little piece of work, isn’t it?
Playboy: Especially for a show that’s supposed to be about nothing. What exactly does that mean?
Seinfeld: It’s actually about details. We joke that it’s about nothing because there’s no concept behind the show, there’s nothing intrinsically funny in the situation. It’s just about four people. There’s no thread. No high concept.
Playboy: But isn’t Hollywood built on concept?
Seinfeld: That is the concept: no concept.
Playboy: Which, as we’ve already mentioned, fuels the perception that your real life is just as it’s portrayed on the show.
Seinfeld: I play myself as I was before I got the show. I understand that people would like to think that they’re looking into my actual life. It would be fun if that were true. People want to get to know people they see on TV. That’s why they read interviews. That’s why they watch talk shows. Other cultures accept performers as they view them. Americans see performers whom they like and they want to know, “Hey, what’s behind that? How did they get to be that way? How do they come up with their ideas?”
Playboy: What do you think is behind this obsession?
Seinfeld: I guess Americans are just nosy. They want a little bit more. It’s the same concept behind extra-strength pain relievers. What the hell is extra strength? We don’t know how much strength they were giving us, and we don’t know how much more “extra” is. But we’re giving you extra, and Americans like that idea. We’ll throw in the floor mats when you buy a new car. It’s that little something. Then, when they’ve found out enough about a person, they start to hate him. Then they move on to the next person.
Playboy: Thanks. You’ve just explained the entire—
Seinfeld: Cycle of celebrity.
Playboy: Can you deconstruct anything?
Seinfeld: Deconstruction. That’s a very good word for what I do. I have a friend who’s not a comedian, he’s a computer analyst. He’s always going, “See, there’s something funny about this saltshaker, but I can’t see it. You could see it.” And it frustrates him. He’s looking at the saltshaker and I’m looking at the saltshaker, and he knows there’s a joke there. He can’t find it.
Playboy: Have you found anything you can’t deconstruct?
Seinfeld: Yeah, sure. I can’t crack most things. You don’t realize that the joke is the diamond. The joke is the fleck of gold after going through a ton of rock. And you’re saying to me, “What’s rock?” The whole world is rock. I’ve found this little lump of gold—my comedy material—and I’ve made it into an act.
I am my Job.
Playboy: Do you enjoy your job?
Seinfeld: I am my job. Everything else in life pales by comparison to the interpretive experience: seeing something, interpreting it, shaping it, communicating it and being affirmed for it. Every time something funny is discovered, it’s an absolute miracle. And the most amazing thing is when I have only three minutes to think of something funny. We shot a show recently where George borrows his father’s car and it gets destroyed by a gang—it’s actually more complicated than that. We’re in this scene where I’m standing next to George and his father’s car. The door is ripped off, the engine’s destroyed, the windows are all smashed. We’re shooting, it’s late, it’s cold, we need a line. What can I say? I love that.
Seinfeld: I’ve learned that when I really need to think of something funny, I’m often able to do it. I never knew I could do that. I always thought it took hours. But I found out that sometimes the mind can work faster when it’s under pressure, even comically.
Playboy: Were you this quick when you were younger? Or were you quick but not funny?
Seinfeld: We have ourselves a nice little setup here, haven’t we? It’s worked very well. I probably was quick when I was younger, but I didn’t know it, so it’s the same as not being quick. Here’s what it comes down to: You need talent, you need brains and you need confidence. Those are the three things you need to do virtually anything. Confidence is a fascinating commodity. There’s no upper limit on the usefulness of it, as long as it doesn’t bleed into arrogance. You need as much of it as you can get.
Playboy: Considering your current popularity, you must be overflowing with the stuff.
Seinfeld: That’s what I’ve gained from this show. And that’s what I wanted from day one. I didn’t want a successful TV series, I didn’t want money, fame—any of the things any normal person would want. I wanted the confidence I would have if I could do it.
Playboy: How do you know when it becomes arrogance?
Seinfeld: When you’re losing. When you start making bets that you’re not winning. I’ve always had a lot of confidence. But I wanted more. As a comedian you’re never as good as you want to be. To me that means being strong enough to take your time with an audience. Young comedians—most comedians—work onstage at a breathless pace, and that’s out of fear. I do it, too. It keeps it going. But when you can slow down and hold people, that’s being good enough. I love seeing Bill Cosby tell a story slowly. Comedy strength is slowness. Jack Benny is a perfect example. He would come out onstage, wouldn’t say anything. He would just stand there and the people would start to laugh. I mean, that is comic strength. But to wait for the laugh, that’s balls. And I say balls only because it’s Playboy.
Playboy: Can you apply this to other things?
Seinfeld: It applies to everything. Of course it applies to life. The good things in life, the most interesting things in life, are the things that distill life—like comedy, like baseball and art. Whatever takes the experience and kind of crushes it down into something you can grab. That’s why you go to a movie. That’s why you read a book. That’s why everybody likes epigrams and aphorisms. You feel, like, if you go to a movie, maybe you’ll experience more of life in that two hours than you would in just your own life. That’s what a lot of entertainment is: a condensed life experience.
Playboy: So you’re in this for the long haul?
Seinfeld: I will have longevity. I’d like to play the London Palladium when I’m 100, just like George Burns. No, make that 110. But I still can’t believe it can go on the way it has for much longer. I mean, I’m almost out of things to say. No, I’m just kidding.
Playboy: You’ve said that after five seasons you’re gone. Time magazine recently posited that your show might be around for ten.
Seinfeld: I can guarantee you we won’t do ten. I don’t want to be in people’s faces. This show is going to be off way sooner than anyone would believe.
Playboy: So do you worry about being overexposed?
Seinfeld: Yes, I do. There are certain movies where the promotion is so well-coordinated and so pervasive that, before the movie comes out, I hate it, just because they’re so good at telling me about it. They’ve done such a complete job of selling that it breeds resentment.
Playboy: And yet you’ve been everywhere lately.
Seinfeld: I was working yesterday with a magazine photographer, and the wardrobe woman and I were talking about this. They wanted to do a cover line on me—America Loves Jerry Seinfeld or something like that. I said, “That’s not good. That’s going to make people hate me. If you say that about someone, It defines a relationship with the public and then propels it to end badly. A love affair is a relationship, and that has to end badly.” And she said, “It’s going to end badly anyway, no matter what.” That’s true: It ends badly anyway. So you might as well experience the peak of passion with whatever relationship we’re talking about, whether it’s with a person or, in this case, a professional relationship with the public. It’s going to end badly. Everything ends.
Playboy: Let’s turn to your cereal days as a comic. When did you know you had made it?
Seinfeld: When I turned in my waiter’s apron in September of 1976. I was working at Brew and Burger on Third and 53rd. Ten to two—lunch. I got a gig emceeing at the Comic Strip. I already had one night, then I got another night, and it was like 35 bucks a night. I thought I could make it on 70 bucks a week. So I turned in the apron. I went out to visit my parents. I remember standing on the platform of the Long Island Railroad in Massapequa. That was the highest moment of my career. I was a comedian. I had made it.
Playboy: Has anything compared to that since then?
Seinfeld: No. That was the transition from man to superman.