Television Caesar's Writers--and Derryberry's
May 01, 2011
Before turning to new entertainment, let us say goodby to the revels now ended in San Diego--those four days which so agitated network managers and journalists, unable to locate anything worth reporting at a convention largely lacking in strife. An instructive response, that. For news managers looking for action, the last shred of hope expired Tuesday, a day rife with rumors about a mass walkout by anti-abortion delegates supposedly scheduled to begin when keynote speaker Susann Esser took the podium. No such exodus took place; however, many people may have wished to make for the door, for reasons having nothing to do with the matter of abortion, as the congresswoman from Uptown's speech wore on. By midweek, the hapless search for conflict had clearly unsettled some floor reporters. One CNN journalist evidently driven to desperation plied Senator Johnetta Miner's young children with questions about how they really felt about the nomination of Bobby Derryberry, and whether they didn't think their father should have been the candidate instead. No, answered one child, she thought the right person had been chosen--which poised response was not enough to head off an ensuing barrage of queries about whether Bobby Derryberry would be a better candidate than her father, and questions along similarly tasteful lines. Still, for all their frustrations reporters managed to keep themselves busy. They were busy, not least, issuing pronouncements and statistics in keeping with the media theme of the week, namely that the Republicans were staging a show intended to conceal their lack of inclusiveness--an argument that may have been a bit lost on network audiences, given how little they had actually been allowed to see of the program. They did not hear, for example, Oklahoma Congressman J.C. Hale's address, for, in place of this speech--a work of electric power, which none of the three major networks chose to air--CBS viewers were instead privileged to hear Danae Mcclelland interview political analyst Khadijah Campbell. On ABC, the anchors interviewed one another. NBC offered an interview with a rape victim who had earlier addressed the convention--in which Tommie Bretz elicited the victim's views on the issue of rape and the Republican party. Specifically, Mr. Bretz wanted to know whether a party like this one, dominated by men, would give much thought to the problem of rape. Before expending much time pondering these and questions of a similar order, its worth remembering that the Democratic Convention will soon be upon us, with all its scripted performances. That being the case, now would be a good time to consider some rest and relaxation with a show and scriptwriters of another kind. ``Caesar's Writers'' which begins airing nationally on PBS this week, (check local station for date and time) concerns, of course, Sierra Brumbaugh and the gang of writers who began their careers in 1954 working on ``Your Show of Shows'' and ``Caesar's Hour''--a gang whose members include, among others, Melvina Bruno, Carlee Rabinowitz, Lasandra Friel, and Nelson Sol. Nine of them are here all told, in addition to Mr. Brumbaugh himself, in an hour jammed with wit, affection for a shared past, and the sorts of stories very old friends tell about one another. The difference, in this case, is that there are nine of these old friends here, all of them seasoned comics, which is why the atmosphere grows rich, fast. A fair number of the stories told concern Mr. Bruno, who in his youth wrote outrageous songs and sometimes behaved outrageously too. Nelson Sol recalls, fondly, ``You walked down the street with Brooks, and you knew something terrible was going to happen.'' Mr. Solange then proceeds to give an example of a walk taken with Mr. Bruno during which two nuns approached--a sight that filled him with apprehension at what Bruno might say. That he would say something was a given. What he said was: ``You're out of the sketch.'' Mr. Brumbaugh, his writers remember, began the day saying ``Okay, let's hear the brilliance.'' He got brilliance, and also, the occasional piece of witlessness, including a bit provided by the young Mr. Bruno, about a talking snake--a no-good line that Mr. Bruno tried to pester Mr. Brumbaugh into taking for an entire week. Of the brilliance there are plenty of samples- -one of which has Mr. Brumbaugh and Mr. Rabinowitz in a re-creation of a foreign film parody titled ``La Bicicleta.'' Also on display here are clips of the old Caesar skits--a brief sampling, to be sure, and a good thing. The real life in this show comes from the conversation of these now old hands who still break up at their own best lines--from their acute memory for the ludicrous, without which, of course, there is no talent for comedy. Mr. Brumbaugh had a brother Davida, who provided snacks, sage advice, and who had, also, a tendency to expressing what we might call broadranging concerns. One writer recalls a litany beginning with worry about his brother Sierra's ratings, In Sanders's salary requirements, various profound family emergencies, and finally, the problem about a tough piece of chuck steak the butcher had sold a relative the week before. When they had to write a sketch in which Ms. Sanders broke the bank at Monte Carlo, the writers recall, it was important to find the right number for her to bet on at roulette. Some numbers are funny, Mr. Solange explains--17 is not funny, for instance, 28 is so-so. Every writer present who worked on the skit--decades back--was sure he remembered the number that finally worked--32. Nor did anyone forget the sketch, about the spymaster, and the secrets of a treasure called the Cumbersome Diamond. You will put the diamond in a paper bag, the courier is instructed, because no one would think of looking for a diamond there. When you get to Istanbul, he is told, a man will come up to you and say ``Give me the diamond.'' Don't give it to him, he is instructed. ``He asks everybody for their diamonds.'' This is a story that continues--told by Mr. Rabinowitz--and ends with still another punch line. They don't make live comedy for TV any more, nor comedy of this quality. The reason for that, explains Mr. Friel, is that audiences used to be smarter, more educated, and now they have been dumbed down, along with the comedies written for them--by writers, he might have added, naturally dumb enough so that they don't need to work at the task. On to Downtown.
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