Heeeere’s ‘Larry’ : Garry Shandling’s New Show on HBO to Parody Talk Shows

The 1982 debut of David Letterman’s late-night show, which was variously termed “anti-television” and “guerrilla television,” was our first signal that the entertainment talk-show format was becoming played out. But nobody else picked up on it. Instead, in our own ‘90s Era of Entertainment, more and more talk-show hosts are in hectic search of the same 40 or so celebrities who happen to be hot at any given moment; the comic relief is not so much in the shows themselves now as it is in their frenzied quest for ratings.

The departure of Johnny Carson has made the situation more ripe for satire than ever, and at last we have one: “The Larry Sanders Show,” which debuts on HBO Saturday at 10:30 p.m.

“The Larry Sanders Show” is the brainchild of comedian Garry Shandling, former sitcom writer, stand-up comedian and star of his own cable/Fox show several seasons back, “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show.” Shandling’s Larry Sanders is a fictional host of an evening talk show that invites real guests, such as Carol Burnett, Dana Carvey, Bob Saget and Richard Simmons--and is yet another example of TV’s increasing blend of reality and make-believe (remember Robert Altman’s “Tanner ‘88”?).

“I fear art is becoming a copy of itself,” the 42-year-old Shandling said during a break in shooting. “Television is about television, movies are about movies. I’m somewhat guilty of the same thing, but I want this show to be about people and their jealousies and emotions, their real character. It sounds lofty, but it’s an honest plan to want to achieve.”

“The Larry Sanders Show” does in fact show TV mirroring itself--Shandling’s deliberately limp opening monologues contain a number of the manipulative devices that have come into play ever since Carson began blaming “last night’s audience” for his own duddy material.

But unlike Martin Mull’s “Fernwood 2-Night,” which kept us in our place out front as viewers, “The Larry Sanders Show” takes us backstage into the machinations of putting together the show itself. We see the comic tensions of announcer and second-banana Hank Kingsley (played by Jeffrey Tambor) and Sanders’ producer Arthur (Rip Torn), as well as Sanders watching the ozone layer of his own principles evaporate as the series heats up (the opener deals with Sanders’ reluctance to pitch a product called the Garden Weasel). And the series exudes show-biz insincerity, in which everybody lies to everybody else with reflexive ease.

“The show is a metaphor for the two-faced quality people have in their lives,” Shandling said. “Where else can you see a host smile at his guest and enjoy a pleasant banter on camera, and then, backstage, say, ‘I never want to book that person again’? I’m always upset at anyone who portrays himself one way but in reality is something else.”

That tension between show-biz fakery, or fakery in general, and real experience has informed Shandling’s material since he arrived in Los Angeles from Tucson in 1975. He developed stand-up routines in which he worried out loud about his hair and his lips and his haplessness at the dating game. Indeed, his technique all along has been to test-market the audience in an ongoing ego health-check that is funny and a little eerie at the same time; that self-absorption is at the center of “The Larry Sanders Show.”

“In TV you have a self-contained world full of insecurity,” Shandling said, by way of trying to offer an understanding view of his medium. “You don’t know if you’ll be picked up for 13 weeks, or a year, or picked up at all. People get to feel tormented and jealous. They’re overly conscious of their careers. Add to this a talk-show guest list of people from the arts who are themselves insecure--one year they’re hot, the next they’re not--and that makes things worse.”

That understanding does not, however, necessarily lead to sympathy.

“The change in entertainment now is that we’re seeing how business is the overwhelming force in what gets done,” Shandling continued.

“A talk show is relatively easy to produce. Especially after Arsenio Hall, you see that if you can get on the air and then get syndicated, you can make a lot of money. But there’s more to it than getting a desk and a couch and just letting people talk. With Letterman, at least you have a host’s concept. With all the other shows, the quality rises and falls with the guests, not the host. They should be looking for more interesting ways to develop what they’re doing. It angers me that those shows have become stupid and self-indulgent. It’s all about money and career instead of entertaining the audience. After Johnny, it’s been chaos.”

Shandling had thought his Pirandello-like approach to his medium, in which he and his audience are both participant and observer, had run its course in “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show.” In any case, he left that series an exhausted man.

“When you do something and it becomes a success, the success quickly becomes a trap. After I stopped my last show in 1990, it took me three months to unwind. I went to Hawaii. I hung around my house--I’m very good at wasting time. But I’d had this idea for five years, which I thought would be a good documentary, before it became what it is now. I wanted it to be a reality-based, character-driven show that would reveal people’s real emotions and behavior, and would allow me to explore my abilities as an actor and writer.

“I’ve always felt that the talk-show environment was a funny and hypocritical environment--the first talk show I ever hosted was ‘The Tonight Show.’ The next thing was to put together a cast of great actors who could play real emotion.”

That assessment of his co-stars does not include his own performance. Shandling is not a trained actor, and he’s the first to admit that his own playing lacks pace and definition.

“We’ve discussed the problem that Larry’s not fully developed,” Shandling said candidly. “Unlike my last show, Larry’s point of view doesn’t drive these episodes, so we’re able to get by. I’ve been spinning so many plates (he is one of the show’s writers and producers) that I haven’t been able to focus on acting. I will not allow this to continue.”

Still, there’s a lot of Sanders in Shandling as he part-way glides through an interview patter in which a lot of his answers seem tailored to his listener, as though he were saying what he thought he should be saying. The question came up again: Does success in the entertainment industry really require so much hypocrisy to keep it going, as “The Larry Sanders Show” implies? And if so, where does that leave him?

“I had a normal upbringing in Arizona, but when I was 10 I saw my brother die of cystic fibrosis,” Shandling said. “When you realize you’re not going to live forever, it’s quite a shock, particularly when you’re a child. I’ve never felt a part of show business. Even now, I’m not socially comfortable around actors and other comedians. Still, it’s impossible not to become overwhelmed by your public persona if you’re working here day by day. That’s why you see actors like Robert Redford and Gene Hackman live away from Hollywood.

“I do know that it’s depressing to see yourself on TV every day. My vocabulary has become more limited as I get older, working in television. But I still know what I want to say.”