I sometimes wonder if we underestimate the value of Garry Shandling within pop culture. That’s not to say that anyone with any taste who has caught Shandling’s stand-up, or his two groundbreaking television shows, doesn’t find him at minimum funny–only a Philistine would think otherwise. It’s just that his career for many people boils down to four things. Guest-hosting the Tonight Show, not overly frequent comedy club work, and two shows that are fairly cultish in regard.
Judd Apatow’s two-part, better-than-4-hour documentary for HBO, The Zen Diaries of Garry Shandling, aims to consecrate his subject’s status as legendary. Even so, Apatow’s film does not lack for representation of warts. Through frank interviews with those who knew him best, and the seemingly endless journals Shandling kept, The Zen Diaries makes it clear that Shandling was anything but easy.
All of his anxieties, petty grievances, and sometimes brutal perfectionism are laid bare, but so is his extraordinary generosity. While he had falling outs with friends, he often made up for them at a later date. One thing you will certainly gather from the film is that even those who had difficulties with him had a deep and abiding affection for him, if not out-and-out love. Like most of us, he was complicated.
It’s fair to say that much of what shaped his comedy and life can be traced to a single event: The death of his older brother, Barry, from cystic fibrosis at the age of 13. His kind but somewhat stoic father shut down any conversation of Barry’s passing, while his eccentric mother became so attentive to her remaining son as to become overbearing. In many ways, Shandling never quite found his footing after his brother died. He had a couple of long-term relationships, but when it came time to take the next conventional step into marriage and/or children, he could not make the transition.
It was as if the hurt of Barry’s far-too-young departure would only allow him so much intimacy. This plays out most painfully in the second half of the documentary as his relationship with his Larry Sanders Show co-star (and romantic partner) Linda Doucett goes south due to her desire for a child. Not only did they split, but Shandling fired her. A move that eventually resulted in a settlement for Doucett.
Apatow largely sticks to a straightforward timeline. The first half deals with his childhood, entrance into comedy as a writer for sitcoms like Sanford & Son, Welcome Back, Kotter, and his own creation, It’s Garry Shandling’s Show. Of his two television series, his first is often thought of as his second-best, which isn’t necessarily wrong. It is, however, an incomplete evaluation. It may have been thirty minutes, and full of laughs, but it wasn’t so much a sitcom as an anti-sitcom.
It’s Garry Shandling’s Show was (and is) subversive as hell. Long before shows like The Office had characters talking to the camera and being self-referential, Shandling was not only inventing the format, he was perfecting it. Somehow, despite breaking all the known rules of sitcom, It’s Garry Shandling’s Show lasted four years and 88 episodes.
Brian Eno once said of The Velvet Underground, “They didn’t sell many records, but everyone who bought one started a band.” Which is pretty much how comedians and comedy writers view It’s Garry Shandling’s Show. It’s a touchstone. Before it, people had a smaller view of what was possible. Shandling probably could have kept doing the show for several more years. His mercurial nature would not let him, though. He bored easily. So, after breaking all the dishes in the sitcom kitchen, he moved on.
There was a point in his career when he was a top contender to replace Johnny Carson. Remarkably, he passed on The Tonight Show to put more time into It’s Garry. Furthermore, he didn’t even want to be considered. He couldn’t imagine doing the same thing every day even if it meant riches galore and a place in the TV pantheon. He was more interested in creating something new.
So, he did.
Part two turns its attention to the most lauded production of his career. Shandling wouldn’t need someone else’s talk show. He would create a show about a talk show.
The Larry Sanders Show is on the short list of the most outstanding programs in the history of the medium. While it was very meta and certainly self-referential, it didn’t break down the third wall like Shandling’s previous sitcom, but then it didn’t need to. It was so sharply written, so funny and human, that it surpassed everything Shandling had done or would do. Larry Sanders had laughs, pathos, and the sort of uncomfortable humor that is a staple of today’s comedy–only not quite as good.
For example:
Larry’s “Ed McMahon”, Hank (played pathetically and artfully by Jeffrey Tambor), is exasperated by being the butt of everyone’s jokes. He turns to Larry and laments…
“What about the time I fell and broke my tooth on the urinal? What was so fucking funny about that?”
Larry replies drily:
“It was a back tooth.”
The on and off-camera talent was an embarrassment of riches. Apatow, Peter Tolan, Carol Leifer, Rip Torn, Janeane Garafolo, Jeremy Piven, Bob Odenkirk, and many others contributed to the series. To say nothing of the celebrity guests. Sharon Stone, Robin Williams, and most memorably, David Duchovny. It was a who’s who of who was hot and or relevant at the time. Somehow, the stunt-casting never got in the way of the show itself. All of those guest stars subverted their egos and served the storyline. Mostly because it was so damn good, and they just wanted to be a part of it.
The show ran from 1992 to 1998. 89 episodes. Just one more than It’s Garry Shandling’s Show. It was the greatest triumph of his career, and it was still going strong when he decided to walk away. His breakup with Doucett and, even more so, his bitter split with his long-time manager, Brad Grey, over where the money went had sapped him of his joy and energy for the program.
Then once again, at the peak of his powers, he walked away. It was the last triumphant moment of his career.
Shandling then attempted to move into film as a leading man. He wrote What Planet Are You From? A movie about an alien, played by Shandling, who comes to earth to impregnate a human. Despite a cast with Annette Bening, John Goodman, and Ben Kingsley, and the great Mike Nichols in the director’s chair, it was an unmitigated disaster.
After What Planet Are You From? failed, Shandling muddled through the rest of his career. There were the often hilarious guest appearances on late-night shows, some award show hosting duties, a bit part in a couple of Marvel Universe movies, and occasional stand-up work followed, but that was pretty much it. A serious illness known as hyperparathyroidism probably robbed him of any chance to make a serious comeback. He was never quite the same after having surgery.
Shandling meditated for years before his success and turned to the practice with greater discipline in the latter portion of his life. Becoming close with Buddhist monks and other spiritual leaders in the area of Eastern thought. He made amends with many of those he felt he had harmed. He also performed some random acts of kindness, such as showing up unannounced in Hawaii to support Conan O’Brien after he had recently been fired from The Tonight Show.
Mostly, he found a way to just be, and then, just like that, he was felled by a heart attack and gone.
Over the four-plus hours of The Zen Diaries of Garry Shandling, many a great anecdote is told. Comics like Jim Carrey, Bob Saget, and Jay Leno attest to Shandling’s genius and peculiarities. They do so with reverence and humor, and sometimes pain and tears. This is one of the more revealing and complete documentaries you will see this year or any other.
My favorite moment came from Sarah Silverman, who did a handful of episodes on The Larry Sanders Show before she reached the top tier of the comedy ranks. Silverman talks about Shandling’s quest for balance. In doing so, she says, “Garry wasn’t Zen. Garry desperately needed to be Zen.”
A statement equal parts funny and sad. Desperation is no path to Zen. Still, somehow, despite all his angst and agita, you are left with the feeling he gained at least some measure of such before he died. Perhaps that was his greatest triumph of all.