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Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Trust Me: “Two Gs I believe”
I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube clips recently, mostly Richard Pryor, Johnny Carson, Steve Martin, David Letterman, Jon Stewart, Don Rickles, and other commedians. Some were funnier than others; some were hilarious, some a bit dull. I want to talk about one of the funniest, one featuring Steve Martin as a guest on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show. The clip is roughly 10 minutes long and consists of two different segments edited together. The first segment lasts about four minutes and consists of a Carson monologue that falls apart, and wonderfully so. The Steve Martin portion starts at 4:09:
The interview starts with a bit of this and that and works its way around to a point where Carson notes that Martin’s been on the show 66 times, at which point Martin notes that he keeps a diary in which he’s made notes on each and every one of those appearances. And wouldn’t you know it, he just happened to have that diary with him.
Martin takes a small notebook out of his jacket, opens it, and begins reading an entry (at roughly 6 minutes and 28 seconds into the clip): “December 8th, 1984, Tonight Show, good show, went well, lots of laughter, Ed very funny, Johnny seemed sluggish.” Cut to Johnny, blank quizzical look.
Martin: “Well that can happen.”
Carson: “Once in awhile you have an off night.”
Martin: “Absolutely.”
Carson: “Every performer has those.”
[Spoiler alert: This routine has a marvelous ending and I give it away in the following account.]
And we’re off, with Martin reading other entries, all of which compare Carson unfavorably to Martin – except for the night that Jay Leno was hosting instead of Carson. Finally, at roughly 8:20 into the clip, we’re coming down the home stretch:
Martin: “December 5th, 1987. Hmmm. I was bad, real bad, but compared to Johnny and Ed I was. . .” Applause.
Martin: “April 10th, 1988, Great show, one of my best, audience seemed to love me, big applause, Ed, Doc, Johnny, sluggish, sluggish, sluggish.” Note that Carson joined in on the last “sluggish.”
Carson: “How about tonight’s show now?” Martin borrows a pen from Johnny and starts making a diary entry for this very performance, the one happening right now before our very eyes.
Martin: “Great appearance, top of my form, uh, audience loved me . . .” [Applause] “. . . underline that . . . not only is the comedy funny, but it has depth and meaning . . . much of the audience actually felt moved, and laughed through their tears . . . ‘see, Johnny . . . “
Martin looks upward and then Carson interjects (9:35), as the audience laughs: “Two Gs I believe . . .” Carson laughs, Martin laughs, McMahon laughs, the audience laughs.
Martin (finishing his entry?): “Sluggish.”
Carson: “Sluggish, right.”
It’s really quite marvelous.
* * * * *
But what’s going on? I’m asking the question on two levels: 1) how much of this was worked out ahead of time, and 2) why’s it so funny?
On the first question, I don’t really know. Martin had to have his diary – whether real or a prop created for this occasion – ready and Carson had to know about it so he could cue Martin. Beyond that, how much of their interaction was improvised on the spot? I’d imagine that almost all of it was. After all, they’re both seasoned performers and they’d worked together many times before on the show.
What I’m curious about, though, is Carson’s topper line: “Two Gs I believe.” Was that worked out ahead of time? While I can reason my way to either “yes” or “no,” I’m inclined to go with “no.” If so, then they didn’t know how the bit would end. They just had to trust that somehow a suitable ending would find its way into the act.
Which it did.
But what’s the act really about? This is Carson’s show; he’s the host. Martin insults his host each time he reads one of those diary entries. That is discourteous. And yet Carson smiles and even laughs at the jokes. He’s a good host. Martin is a pompous obnoxious guest.
Of course, it’s only an act, and we all know it. Much of the pleasure comes from the various ways in which Martin delivers the same insult and Carson absorbs it. Carson is playing the straight man to Martin, rather than McMahon being the straight man to Carson. We thus have a bit of that old ritual inversion, when the high play at being low, and the low get to play at being high – keep in mind that Martin’s made himself rich playing a low character, the hapless nebbish.
Now, the ending. Recall the penultimate episode, the one Martin ends with “Ed, Doc, Johnny, sluggish, sluggish, sluggish.” Johnny joined in on the last “sluggish.” Not so sluggish. In fact, right on time. Straight-man and comic say the same thing at the same time.
Then, in the last episode, Johnny helpfully offers a spelling suggestion and thereby, ever so diplomatically, regains the upper hand. He doesn’t in any way question Martin’s verdict on his performance; he even helps Martin record the verdict. But, in doing so, he gives the lie to the verdict and exposes it as a fraud. Carson’s actual real-time performance here is not sluggish, not at all. It’s on time and on point. And Martin knows it, hence the final coda:
Martin: “Sluggish.”
Carson: “Sluggish, right.”
When you think about it, of course, you might question Carson’s spelling correction. After all, Martin had obviously written “sluggish” many times and, presumably, knew how to spell it. In any event, Carson wasn’t in a position to see what Martin was writing so he had no reason to think Martin had spelling problems. But such considerations are irrelevant. This was happening in real time, by tenths of seconds, and no one would have had time to think of this – I didin’t even think of it until I began writing this post. In real time Carson’s remark was utterly brilliant.
For it allowed him to both to agree with his boorish guest and to reprove him at the same time. That’s a most delicate feat, and feats of such delicacy are the province of comic genius.
It was, of course, but an act.
Comments
Yes, very funny. I think the “two G’s” was ad libbed. After Carson said it, Martin spontaneously chuckled and glanced at Carson, an acknowledgment. Actually, I think Martin may have had an ending prepared and that Carson diverted it—and Martin, realizing here was the best laugh, went with it.
Though I certainly don’t know, that’s a good supposition, Trent, about a prepared and preempted ending.
& I’m still trying to figure this one out. It seems meta, without being self-consciously so. And it seems to be “pointing to” the underlying relationship that enables the performance, rather than to the “content” of the performance as such.
The best talk show interviews seem to involve a guest who knows that they’re performing with the host and who actively holds up their end of the performance. That’s certainly the case here. This is NOT just two guys having a bit of chit-chat. They’re both performing. And such performances require cooperation between the performers.
While, for all I know, Martin may keep a diary of his performances, these diary entries are not convincing. The first one, maybe . . . maybe. But the banter with Johnny about it is clearly a performance. And as soon as you hear “sluggish” in the second entry you know the entries are fake. And when Martin gets around to making an entry about the current performance, that entry is clearly nonsense. The stuff about laughter through tears is obviously complete fabrication. Fortunately, Johnny delivers the line about two G’s. And so forth.
It seems to me that in watching this routine we are pretty much forced to “attend to” the relationship between the two men. “Attend to”? Somehow we are made aware of the fact of performance, with its moves and counter moves, as the substrate on which all of this floats. Were you ever in a situation where you deliberately made a remark that left you vulnerable to a humorous retort at your expense? And that retort was then delivered as you expected? Why would you do such a thing? For the joy and beauty of that response, that’s why. Well, that’s what’s involved in this kind of performance, and that’s what this routine makes you aware of, if only indirectly.
So much of this depends on who Carson and Martin are—both are “gentle” performers. Carson frequently gets laughs at his own expense, as in his monologue in the clip that fell apart. He’s famous for that kind of stuff. Martin often plays a pompous ass who is clueless one one level that’s he’s a pompous ass but on another obviously is not clueless—his broad grin during his fantastic standup routines conveys both attitudes, somehow—and the audience gets all of it. These are not angry people. Anyway, to an extent, Martin’s playing his usual character, puffing himself up but so broadly everyone laughs and at that, and then, simultaneously laughs that Martin ostensibly doesn’t know _why_ they are laughing and then, simultaneously again laughs because they of course know that Martin knows what he is doing. Talk about a meta laugh. Carson plays the straight man, a role he always played well, with gestures toward being annoyed, but of course the audience knows he’s really not. And when he steals the laugh at the end, Martin cracks up (genuinely I believe; I watched the clip again—note the pause while what Carson said sinks in), and then the audience, already ready to laugh when either Martin or Carson laughs, gets it too.
Above all else it’s fun and very comfortable. Nothing is really at stake here. Carson isn’t really being attacked. The only thing at stake is the payoff laugh at the end, and both Martin and the audience are delighted that Carson steals it. This isn’t edgy stuff—it’s graceful and beautiful and done with supreme confidence before an audience that wants to be entertained and is happy that it gets what it wants.
I have no way of knowing, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the only set up before the show was that Martin asked Carson to ask him about his diary. I bet that’s all that written on his card or notepad or whatever Carson uses.
Bill,
Something interesting I think I just caught after watching the clip for the third time. After Martin gets up and leaves because Carson hasn’t seen Parenthood, and they joke that it would be funny if Martin didn’t come back, Carson begins to seque into Martin’s next bit. To set it up, he has to mention how many times Martin has been on the show. He says, “I don’t want to mess up your routine,” but then cuts himself off and says something like “I mean the number of times you’ve been here.” I *think* Carson realized he shouldn’t use the word “routine” (because there WAS a routine coming) so changed course.
If I’m right, then there may have been more preparation than I originally thought. Carson knew he had to bring up the number of times Martin had been on the show to set up the diary bit. And of course Carson brought up the diary first—and that might have been a bit of misfire, because the topic wasn’t introduced quite as gracefully as Martin might have wished. Who knows, just the impression I got this time viewing.
Good catch, Trent. I saw that the transition was awkward but I hadn’t noticed Johnny’s word “routine.”
I’ve got one more set of observations, all of them, it seems to me, fairly obvious. First, one Martin starts into his diary routine he remains in character until Carson’s “two G’s” remark forces him to laugh and thereby forces him out of character. That’s what brings the routine to an end. (I note further that it seems to me that Martin was in character from the moment he walked out on stage, but that’s another matter.)
Carson’s role was more varied. First, he cued the beginning of the diary routine. Once Martin had read his first entry, Carson legitimized the “sluggish” verdict by remarking that every performer has off nights. He does the same after the second entry. During the “middle” set of entries Carson is a good audience for Martin’s remarks, laughing appropriately (and genuinely). He then cues Martin to record an entry for this performance and, finally, brings the routine to an end with his helpful spelling suggestion.
That is to say, Carson was in control. That’s no surprise, for that’s his job. He has to bring out the best in his guest and keep the moving along, appropriately.
Is it that funny? He’s just saying that Johnny’s sluggish over and over again. I’ve never found SM all that funny, he does comedy about comedy . . . Give me a wild and crazy guy instead of a “wild and crazy guy” . . .
’Third base’
generally these bits are not planned entirely. steve martin has a bit he’s going to do and they tell carson what he needs to segway into it. that is all.
unfortunately much of the clips on youtube have been removed but a far greater comic was a tonight show regular and not only the funniest and smartest (his jokes commenting on comedy are far more hilarious and intelligent than martin’s) but also carson’s favorite:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YQviwy89bo