From June 1998, a rare glimpse into the tortured world of Garry Shandling at a particularly tumultuous time in his life: the last weeks of his groundbreaking comedy series, The Larry Sanders Show. Originally published in US magazine.
Garry Shandling: The ‘US’ Interview
The comedian has cultivated his own brand of subversive humor with ‘The Larry Sanders Show.’ But as the series draws to an end, his shocking lawsuit against his longtime manager and reports of erratic behavior have left many wondering if Shandling’s act has hit too close to home
GARRY SHANDLING IS in his Studio City, Calif., office, squirming. He has just been asked a question about his recently filed $100 million lawsuit against former manager, best friend and executive producer of The Larry Sanders Show Brad Grey. The suit, alleging that Grey stole writers (for his other shows) from Shandling and used Shandling’s reputation to build his production empire (Brillstein-Grey Enterprises), stunned the entertainment community and made headlines in every major newspaper, from Variety to The Wall Street Journal. The suit also resulted in a $10 million countersuit by Grey, claiming that, among other things, Shandling’s erratic behavior drove staffers from The Larry Sanders Show.
With no Artie (Shandling’s character’s pit bull-like protector, played to grizzled perfection by Rip Torn on the HBO series) in sight, Shandling looks away, pained, and sinks lower into his chair. Up until now, in a mostly friendly, laugh-filled interview, sensitive areas of his highly unexamined life have been dealt with in that patented comic’s way of providing little nuggets of truth and then undermining them with a punch line. (Are you seeing a therapist? “Yes,” he says, “I go to couples therapy. Alone. There are two therapists, and they argue about what’s wrong with me.” Ba-da-bum!) But this is too close, too fresh a wound, to cover with a laugh track. Finally, summoning up all his comic reserve, Shandling provides a comment in the form of a joke: “I’m sure the second this lawsuit was filed, Brad Grey attempted to make a package deal with Court TV to somehow ensure that he could make money from [it].” Nothing. He waits a beat, then sinks even lower into the folds of his leather chair.
What should have been a glorious send- off to one of the most critically acclaimed television series in years, the final season of The Larry Sanders Show (which ends May 31) has been tarnished by this ugly lawsuit, which has everyone in Hollywood buzzing. While many deem Shandling’s allegations against Grey outrageous, there are some points in the suit (most notably, concerning personal managers acting as producers for their clients) that raise prickly conflict-of- interest issues. But what’s more fascinating is the uncanny parallel track that Shandling’s life seems to have taken to his show, in which duplicitous behavior and public humiliation have been elevated to a new art form. (In recent weeks, for instance, Shandling reportedly had Grey’s and producing partner Bernie Brillstein’s chairs removed from the set and Grey’s title put on a separate card in the credits sequence). So, while the neighbors across the Studio City lot — Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer — enjoy a farewell of almost unprecedented media fanfare and public adoration, it is perhaps fitting that the darkest and least compromising show on television go out in a blaze of bitterness.
For those without cable boxes, a brief history. In 1992, Shandling was approached by HBO to create a half-hour parody of a talk show featuring — and here was the genius — real-life celebrities playing themselves. The paranoid, self-absorbed host, Larry Sanders (co-created with writer Dennis Klein), and his staff of beautifully written misfits — most notably, the irrepressible producer Artie (Torn) and buffoonish side- kick Hank (Jeffrey Tambor)— became an instant hit in New York and Los Angeles, but nowhere else. Nevertheless, savoring the legitimacy of parenting a show that The Los Angeles Times called “an instant classic,” the network sank millions into it and gave Shandling free rein to do as he pleased.
By deconstructing television dynamics with his trademark acid wit — and in so doing, revealing the underbelly of an industry ruled by fear and loathing — The Larry Sanders Show blew away the conventions of the late-night talk show. As Tambor puts it, “This show answers the question ‘What is David Letterman saying behind that hand?’ And it’s made voyeurs of an entire nation.”
But as Shandling’s star has risen, so too has Grey’s. His company (formed in 1985 with partner Brillstein) represents more than too clients (including Brad Pitt, Nicolas Cage and Christian Slater), has eight television shows on the air (among them, Just Shoot Me and NewsRadio) and produces feature films (The Cable Guy, The Wedding Singer). Not surprisingly, Shandling’s suit against one of the most powerful figures in Hollywood (not to mention, his best friend of 18 years) has left many people questioning the comedian’s motivations and mental state.
“It’s insane,” says Miramax co-chairman Harvey Weinstein, who once employed Grey and asked him to leave Shandling years ago to join his company. “I’ve seen Brad build Garry’s entire career and never waver. He used every connection he could to further Garry’s career when Garry meant nothing.”
“I’m completely shocked by it,” says Politically Incorrect’s Bill Maher, a longtime friend of Shandling’s and also a Brillstein-Grey client. “Brad’s reputation is completely spotless, and I know he’s torn up about this.” Many entertainment executives seem offended by Shandling’s claim in the suit that Grey wouldn’t have become the giant he is now if it weren’t for Shandling’s advice, influence and ability to draw other artists into the fold.
“It’s nonsense,” says David Geffen, the former record mogul and now DreamWorks SKG executive. “Jackson Browne introduced me to Linda Ronstadt, [Eagles] Glenn Frey and Don Henley [all of whom Geffen later signed to his record label, Asylum]. It would be like Jackson suing me now and saying, ‘I introduced you to those people, now where’s mine?!’ ” Jim Wiatt, president of ICM, one of L.A.’s largest talent agencies, says the suit “stinks. I mean, under that theory, all of Brad Grey’s clients, from Brad Pitt to Jon Lovitz, should be paying Garry Shandling 50 percent of their commissions. It’s absurd.”
In attempting to locate a motivation behind the suit, Geffen sees one thing, and it isn’t necessarily money: “Clearly, [Grey and Shandling] started off at the same time, and there is a certain amount of envy in all this. I think Garry Shandling is upset that his career isn’t Jim Carrey’s or Will Smith’s.”
But some who have worked closely with Shandling view his actions as a byproduct of a more deep-rooted neurosis.
“There seems to be a pattern of behavior that Garry has, which is to force people out of his life and then complain that they betrayed him, deceived him and mistreated him,” says writer Paul Simms, the creator of NewsRadio, who quit The Larry Sanders Show after three seasons (Simms was also cited in Shandling’s suit as one of the “diverted” writers — a charge he refutes). “That’s why this lawsuit isn’t surprising to me. It was bound to happen to Brad Grey.”
Shandling’s early life was not without its own trauma. The second of two sons born to Irving Shandling, a prosperous Arizona entrepreneur, and his pet-shop-owner wife, Muriel, Garry Shandling was an outgoing, funny kid who lived in the shadow of his older brother, Barry When Barry died at 13 of cystic fibrosis, 10-year-old Garry was suddenly thrust into the position of being the only child, and heir apparent, of two grief-stricken parents — a stress, he says, that he is “still sorting out.” At the age of 21, while a junior at the University of Arizona, Shandling abandoned his long-term plan of becoming an electrical engineer and eventually journeyed to California with the dream of pursuing comedy writing. He was immediately put to work after impressing the producers of both Welcome Back, Kotter and Sanford and Son. In 1978, five years into his stint as a successful sitcom writer, he decided to take a stab at the newly evolving stand-up comedy scene.
Shandling met Grey at the Westwood Comedy Store in 1979, A fledgling personal manager whose only other client was Bob Saget, Grey helped guide Shandling’s career from hole-in-the-wall clubs to concert halls to, finally, the coveted guest-host spot on The Tonight Show, a job that Shandling performed with characteristic aplomb while claiming privately to despise it. (He told one interviewer in 1992, “Why would I want a job where I’m forced to talk to people that I would never want to talk to in real life?”) So when the opportunity to create his own sitcom for Showtime presented itself, Shandling jumped at the chance.
At Showtime, Shandling was free of network constraints and, with Saturday Night Live veteran writer Alan Zweibel, created the biting and often hilarious It’s Garry Shandling’s Show. In the tradition of his idols Jack Benny and George Burns, Shandling played a loose rendition of himself and broke down the fourth wall, commenting on the show’s edgy story lines by talking to the camera. However, the series was never able to expand its cult-size following, and after four years on the air (two of them on Fox) the plug was pulled.
But the title It’s Garry Shandling’s Show apparently became prophetic. According to sources, during that series’ run, Shandling’s dark, mercurial side began to emerge. The comedian instigated a number of firings and resignations and reportedly turned on Zweibel, often failing to credit him when receiving awards for the show.
“Garry has big problems with anybody else [sharing credit] with him,” says one former writer. “He was always enraged about Alan Zweibel. Any time [Zweibel] got mentioned, [Shandling] went out of his mind.”
This pattern of untimely staff departures carried over to The Larry Sanders Show. In the past six years, Shandling has either fired, not asked back or received resignations from at least 17 writers and producers, while co-creator Dennis Klein left before the first episode even aired.
“He’ll start to belittle you in certain ways, or he’ll dismiss you entirely,” one former producer says of Shandling. “I think what he hates more than anything is confidence. As soon as you show a bit of confidence, he’ll try to destroy you.”
Shandling’s behavior became even more baffling in December 1996. On the final day of shooting the last episode of the 1996–97 season, he walked off the set midshow, hopped into his car and drove away. The show’s producers were left scrambling to shoot and edit the final episode around their star. The next day Shandling took off for what would become a two-month sojourn in the South Seas, leaving everyone at the show wondering whether or not there would be a sixth season. After Shandling returned from his trip, Grey who had decided he’d had enough of the star’s unpredictable behavior, resigned.
“It’s an intense kind of psychological world [Shandling] lives in,” says Grey. “I just had to walk away from it.
“This may sound corny,” he continues, “but I’m very proud of the business that we built, and I love the people I work with, and to go from that environment to dealing with him was too disturbing. I finally had to let it go. And that was a really hard thing for me to do, because I don’t let go of old relationships easily.”
In March, six weeks after Shandling’s suit, Grey filed a countersuit claiming the comedian had little to do with his company’s fortunes, outside of his HBO show and seeking $10 million in damages for losses incurred because of Shandling’s “abusive” and “erratic” behavior toward the show’s staff. While Grey’s action was not unexpected and, in fact, was technically required as an answer to Shandling’s claim, it surprised many of Shandling’s colleagues, most of them actors, who quickly rallied to his defense.
“I’ve never seen any evidence of [erratic behavior],” says Janeane Garofalo, who played Sanders’ booker. Paula, for four seasons. “Garry’s one of the best bosses I’ve ever had.”
“I try visualizing where [these accusations] are coming from, because obviously it’s not the same set I’m on,” says Penny Johnson, who plays Sanders’ loyal assistant, Beverly. Of the rumblings she has heard from people who have left the show, Johnson philosophizes: “It’s like when you’re at a parry and your sister is describing your father [as] horrible, and you’re going, ‘Who is that?!’ And then later in life, your sister says, ‘I made a mistake.’ Through maturity you find out someone was making [tough] decisions because they wanted things to be right.”
Writers at The Larry Sanders Show, even those who defend Shandling, admit that their boss’s unusual approach to the creative process could have something to do with the show’s constant turnover of writers and producers.
“The people who had problems with the show either aren’t connecting stylewise with Garry or they’re not as talented as him,” says Judd Apatow, a former writer who now acts as a consulting producer.
“Garry is someone who is easily disappointed,” says Peter Tolan, also a consulting producer for The Larry Sanders Show. “He expects something of you. Now if you don’t deliver, he’s not going to yell and scream. He gives up on people because of his disappointment. It’s more passive than aggressive.”
But other alumni of The Larry Sanders Show see Shandling’s actions as more calculating than that. “It’s a very subtle terrorism he engages in,” says one writer. “He makes sure the writers are pre-humiliated before they [can] work on the show: It’s almost like a [survival of the fittest] thing. He tells them that he’s capable of this kind of meanness and if they don’t understand that, then they don’t have a place in the show.”
“At the table read of my first episode,” says Richard Day, co-executive producer of The Larry Sanders Show, ”[Shandling] turned to me and said, ‘Richard, of all the people that have had your job, you’ve come the closest.’ Which was perfect Garry, because he’s not exactly complimenting you, he’s just saying, of all the people who’ve failed, you’ve failed the least spectacularly. Two weeks later he had [another producer] and me up to his house to tell us that we didn’t get the show, we couldn’t write it, we could never write it, and if we had any honor, we would resign.
“He has this presumption that only he can write the show,” Day continues, “and he ensures it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy by rejecting the most talented stable of writers in Hollywood. I mean, Steve Levitan [creator of Just Shoot Me], Paul Simms [creator of NewsRadio], Adam Resnic [The Late Show With David Letterman] — if they can’t write the show, who can?”
“[Shandling] is very aware that he’s cruel and that he’s mindf — ing somebody” says one producer. “He likes to think of himself as tortured, but the fact is he tortures others.”
Which, in the end, sounds eerily like the subtle psychological abuse so delectably depicted on The Larry Sanders Show. If nothing else, Shandling has left a lot of people wondering just how closely his art imitates his life.
“Do I know Garry Shandling really?” says Bill Maher, who has been friends with Shandling for more than 10 years and plays basketball with him every Saturday. “No. I could name 12 other people — no, 30, maybe 50 — I know better. But I don’t think anyone knows Garry better than that. He disappears for long periods of time to places like Hawaii, and I don’t know who he’s with or what he’s doing. You never get a straight answer out of him. I mean, I don’t know whether he’s killing little boys in the basement or working for Mother Teresa.”
“Garry is a lonely guy and always has been,” says Jim Walters, Shandling’s former friend and accountant, who was let go after eight years of service. “He’s searching for something, and I’m not sure what it is.”
Sitting in his Studio City production office, with tinted orange glasses perched on his nose, the 48-year-old Shandling wears an easy expression that over the course of the next few hours will run the gamut of emotions. More important, between the punch lines, he offers some insights into just where Garry Shandling ends and Larry Sanders begins.
Let’s start with the show.
Anything you want. Why don’t you start with what you really want to ask me?
Why did you decide to end the show this year?
Well, this is a very difficult show to produce without a team of people that is consistent every year. Creatively, the show would have no problem continuing, but it does feel like it’s time to get this behind me, for many reasons, and move on to other projects which I’ve been trying to do.
That seems to be a pattern in your life. You switched majors in college, you quit sitcom writing…
That’s right. I have a pattern that is very organic: I work hard to do something right, and once I feel I’ve achieved it as best I can, I have a natural inclination to move on, much like a bear in winter. It’s sort of an instinct.
Kind of like Madonna reinventing herself every few years?
Well, I have been compared to Madonna many times, and I know that we’ve dated some of the same people.
Tell me about the film project you’re currently writing. Is it a comedy?
Yes, it’s about an alien from another planet that comes to earth to impregnate a woman.
Do you play the alien?
Yeah, but I’d play him much like I play myself, because I feel like an alien sometimes. He’s a pretty coldhearted man [who] comes from an emotionless planet, and he’s basically a sociopath personality.
Wait. How is “coldhearted, emotionless and a sociopath” like yourself?
Not like me, I don’t think. It’s a character.
But you said you’d play him “much like you play yourself.”
I think just the alien part. I think it’s more of a man who’s a metaphor for a certain coldhearted, achievement-oriented, money-driven society that we are in. He’s the ultimate extension of the kind of personality that I think is out of control in our world. But he realizes it.
Is it a message movie?
Hopefully it’s a funny movie. I never think of anything as having a message or not. It doesn’t interest me to write [something] unless it’s a story about [a part of] human nature that fascinates me, and I’m fascinated by the sociopath personality because I’ve been fooled by it. I grew up in a sheltered environment in a normal, middle-class neighborhood. My exposure to the world was somewhat abrupt, and I wasn’t very street-smart, so I’m fascinated by the duplicity of people’s agendas.
Well, that duplicity is certainly something you explore on ‘The Larry Sanders Show.’
Yeah, it is. I think that’s a metaphor for what goes on in life. That’s why I think people who aren’t in show business can relate to the show. I think it goes on behind the scenes in every household in America.
Do you think you might get emotional when you shoot the last episode?
Oh, I think I’ll be very emotional. It’s a pity that this show has to end. I think the cast is superior. I’m inspired by them.
How do they feel about it?
I don’t know.
You haven’t talked to them about it?
Well, we jokingly talked about doing another season, just for a moment, but they know me. They understand the complexities of doing this show week after week for me.
What do you think when people draw comparisons between you and Larry Sanders?
I think there are such drastic differences, in that Larry’s a man who wants to be on TV every night and is driven by getting the biggest audience and being a celebrity. The vulnerable part of [Larry] is where I connect with him, which is him trying somehow, within the context of all the show business he has to deal with, to do the right thing. I connect with that part. I think he’s a good man at heart. [But] I think you should compare me more to Penny Johnson, my/Larry’s assistant. [I’m] more like that character in real life.
That’s what we’re trying to get at here. What are you like in real life?
Is that what you’re trying to do? I don’t have a problem with that. I’m somewhat guarded about certain specifics of my life, but as far as revealing myself, I don’t think I’m very guarded. You want me to reveal who I really am? Happy to try. That’s what life is about. Trying to be who you are. If there’s anyone who in fact is exactly who they are, they should be embraced.
Do you know anyone like that?
I know some. Very few.
And how do they get to be that way?
I think it takes years of inner search and a goal of being honest, and knowing and trusting their own instinct. Then there are people who are the opposite of that who become corrupted and confused, and I am fascinated by both extremes.
Who are you talking about?
I’m not thinking of anyone specifically.
Who are you closest to in your life?
Uh, [long pause] well, I-I have… a handful of close friends. The only reason I wouldn’t start to say their names is it’s not fair to them. They may not want anyone to know that they’re friends with me. It may make them feel bad about themselves. [Laughs]
What about your personal life? Is there a significant other?
There’s a joke I do that goes like this: I’m currently dating 20 women, but I don’t like to talk about it because it will cheapen them. But the truth is I’ve been very absorbed in my work, so I haven’t had much time for any kind of Bill Clinton action [Laughs] The only reason I wouldn’t run for president is be cause I’m afraid that no woman would come forward to say she’s had sex with me.
I think I’ve heard you do that joke before.
I admit I was slipping that one in, but it’s timely. If by “significant other,” do you mean dog? Because I have a dog. If by “significant other,” do you mean car? Because I have a car.
No, I mean an intimate relationship. Someone you go home to at night. Ohhhh, that’s… No.
Is it something you want? To get married, have kids, the whole deal?Well, I was never a man who felt compelled to get married and have children. I hope that at some time in my life I will do that. I think that I would make a good father, and my instinct is that that will happen; but I was always someone who was concerned about the quality of the relationship. I would love to be in a good relationship, but those are hard to find. Human interaction is very tricky, at best, although I thought the other day that I’ll start feeling better when the universe stops expanding. I think that’s what throws me — that constant sense of movement.
Would you describe yourself as a happy person?
I would describe myself as a happier person than I was a year ago. I think I was probably happier then than I was a year before that, and so forth, back to 1989. [Laughs].
You’re putting me on.
I’m not!
So, each year has been an improvement on the one before?
Yeah, except prior to ’89. I think there were three-year leaps. Now it seems to be going more quickly. I seem to be getting happier exponentially as I get more mature.
Let’s switch to a subject that’s not happy: your $100 million lawsuit against Brad Grey. A lot of people in Hollywood can’t seem to figure out where the lawsuit comes from or why you’ve filed it.
Ahhhhhhh.
Could you explain that?
You understand that I can’t discuss the case, because it’s my lawyer’s job, but… I’m sure people may not understand this lawsuit. They will when it’s in court. I don’t know how else to explain it. I certainly have no intention of trying this case in US magazine. By the way they’re not saying that I’m not funny, right?
No one is saying that.
Good. That’s all that matters to me.
Do you miss Brad Grey? He was a close friend of yours.
Oh, I’m deeply hurt and disappointed in what the truth is. [Quickly] But I couldn’t be happier with the show this year.
Do you see the implicit irony that is happening to you — the very kind of thing you’ve examined on your show for six years?
All of my work reflects life. I mean, going all the way back to when I tell jokes about dating. They’re infused with some amount of truth and then exaggerated. That’s how I write. So I don’t see the irony I see the consistency of that.
Could you talk a little about some of the more peculiar events that have happened — when you walked off the set during the taping of last season’s final episode?
Uh-huh.
And you took off for the South Seas.
Uh-huh.
When you came back, you were said to be very different.
Yes, well, I’ll tell you, I was, in fact, very tan. [Pauses] I was scheduled to have a vacation at that time. I did come back a different man, in that I probably left before vacation not a man and came back, actually, a man.
People close to Brad Grey say that at that point your relationship with him truly deteriorated and that Brad resigned and there was even an arranged summit between you two in an effort to effect a reconciliation.
I can help. That would be Episode 5. [Laughs]
Seriously?
Seriously and not seriously I mean, I find the stories you’re telling me entertaining, and I will hopefully be able to use them in my work, and I appreciate the contribution that those guys are making to my show I hope they don’t want writing credits. Here’s the thing: I understand what you’re asking me. I mean, it’s a business issue. And I have lawyers in New York and Washington who are representing me who I think, while I can’t completely explain to you for legal reasons, nor does it seem like I can explain it to Brillstein-Grey perhaps my lawyers can, and that’s where that belongs. The reality of this will be very clear, very soon, and in the meantime the spin that is being put on it is wonderful fodder for The Larry Sanders Show, because it’s fiction better than I can write.
Why don’t you tell me your side of the story?
I think when you listen back, you’ll hear many many truths the way that…uh… uh… I think I have.
Excuse me?
The truth is in the [complaint]. I have it actually reduced to size, and it’s on my key ring, so I’d be happy to go through it with you. I have a thumbnail-size copy that I have on my key ring and carry around with me. As I will with this article.
Let’s move on. What will you do next?
I am completely capable of being frightened to death about the quality of my next project. I was frightened to death of Larry Sanders, and I’ll be frightened to death the next time I walk onstage to do stand-up. It’s difficult to do something good and maintain consistency, and hopefully I’ll continue to grow. [Pauses] Did I tell you I read for a part in Titanic and they said, “Too real. It looks like you’re going down from the time you went on the boat.” They said, “If the passengers see you relaxing in a deck chair, they’ll know they’re doomed.”
I’m not going to get straight answer anymore, am I?
Well, you’re basically getting straight answers.
With punch lines.
With some punch lines, but that’s what I’m like. It’s not dishonest for me to be funny in a conversation. I often am funny I write many of my jokes by hearing them come out of my mouth and then running over to a pad of paper and writing them down. Unfortunately, there’s no stopping [my humor]. Believe me, I’ve tried. At least people at home can change the channel. I’m stuck with me 24 hours a day.
