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This is Fresh Air.
I'm Terry Gross.
My guest, Larry Charles, has been an integral part of TV shows and films that both reflected and made an impact on American popular culture.
He was a writer on Seinfeld, showrunner on Mad About You, a writer and executive producer on HBO's Entourage and a director and executive producer on Curb Your Enthusiasm.
He directed Sacha Baron Cohen's films Borat and Bruno.
He also collaborated with Bob Dylan on the film Masked and Anonymous.
Larry Charles has a new memoir called Comedy Samurai, 40 Years of Blood, Guts and Laughter.
When he says blood and guts, he means it.
He and Sacha Baron Cohen took enormous risks with their films, in which Baron Cohen took his characters Borat and Bruno into the real world and shot scenes with people who thought Borat and Bruno were real people.
To expose anti-Semitism, racism and homophobia.
Baron Cohen's fictional characters pushed his targets to reveal their darker feelings and beliefs, and it sometimes ended in near violence, with Baron Cohen, Larry Charles and the crew fleeing.
Larry Charles also did a documentary series called Larry Charles' Dangerous World of Comedy, where he went to dangerous places run by authoritarian rulers or were controlled by militias to see what comedy was like there.
Larry Charles, welcome to Fresh Air.
Welcome back to Fresh Air.
Thank you.
It's great to be here again.
Thank you so much.
So the book starts with you having a heart attack and thinking this might be the end.
Did facing the prospect of death make you rethink parts of your life and lead you to think you should rewrite parts of the book?
Well, I think it gave me a little more perspective on my own mortality.
I have been obsessed with death since I'm a kid.
But the reality of death and the obsession with death are two very different things.
And so I think I wanted to go back and be a little more honest and take a little bit more responsibility for my behavior.
And I did add that layer to the book after all this happened.
Yeah, because there's part of the book where you're right.
You realized you were the agent of your own misfortune.
Very much so, yes.
And that happened.
And I had some bad agents, believe me.
But I was the agent of my misfortune.
So you realized this after the heart attack or you already knew it?
Well, you know, I have been sort of contemplating all those things.
I've been through therapy.
I mean, I've done a lot of self-reflection.
When you're a writer and you're sitting alone in a room, you have a lot of time to think.
So I've thought about a lot of these things, but I don't think – I think that I've thought about them, but I hadn't really incorporated them or absorbed them or believed them completely until this event occurred.
Yeah.
So you joined on the second season of Seinfeld, and often shows have a so-called Bible that's supposed to lay out the tone and sensibility of the show and the shape of the episodes.
What kind of prep were you given when you joined Seinfeld?
None.
I mean, the only thing I had was Larry had given me a couple of the scripts before the show premiered.
And so I got to read The Chinese Restaurant and The Busboy and a couple of the other early episodes when the show was just beginning, before the show actually even was produced.
And that was it.
I'd never had any other exposure to the show until I went to work on it.
And I don't think that Jerry and Larry were quite sure themselves what the show should be.
There was no Seinfeld.
It's like it's funny.
When we look at it now in retrospect we go, oh well yes, it has these elements to it.
But none of those things actually existed at one time and they had to be constructed from scratch.
So one of your famous episodes is the library, where Jerry has a book that he took out of the library in high school and is accused of having never returned it, although he's sure that he did.
And in the scene I want to play the librarian investigations officer, in the tone of a hard-boiled police detective, warns Jerry about the gravity of this violation and what the consequences might be for the larger society.
And the librarian is played by the late and wonderful actor Philip Baker Hall.
You took this book out in 1971.
Yes, and I returned it in 1971.
Yeah, 71.
That was my first year on the job.
Bad year for libraries.
Bad year for America.
Hippies burning library cards.
Abby Huffman telling everybody to steal books.
I don't judge a man by the length of his hair or the kind of music he listens to.
Rock was never my bag.
But you put on a pair of shoes when you walk into the New York Public Library, fella.
Look, Mr. Bookman...
I returned that book.
I remember it very specifically.
You're a comedian.
You make people laugh.
I try.
You think this is all a big joke, don't you?
No, I don't.
I saw you on TV once.
I remembered your name from my list.
I looked it up.
Sure enough, it checked out.
You think, because you're a celebrity, that somehow the law doesn't apply to you, that you're above the law.
Certainly not.
Well, let me tell you something funny for you.
You know that little stamp?
The one that says New York Public Library?
Well, that may not mean anything to you, but that means a lot to me.
One whole hell of a lot.
Sure, go ahead and laugh if you want to.
I've seen your type before.
Flashy, making the scene, flaunting convention.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking.
It's just a guy making such a big stink about old library books.
Well, let me give you a hint, you know.
Maybe we can live without libraries, people like you and me, maybe.
Sure, we're too old to change the world.
What about that kid sitting down opening a book right now in a branch of the local library and finding drawings of peepees and wee-wees and the cat in the hat and the five Chinese brothers?
Doesn't he deserve better?
Look, if you think this is about overdue fines and missing books, you better think again.
This is about that kid's right to read a book without getting his mind warped.
That is still so funny and seems so relevant.
It holds up so well.
What afterlife has it had?
Well, it's my favorite thing.
I mean, when I hear it, sitting here listening to it, I had a big grin on my face.
It's like it's joyous in some weird way, you know.
And it also kind of illustrates why Seinfeld was different than most other shows, because the influence of that particular scene really comes from a non-comedic source Dragnet.
And I loved Dragnet and I loved how funny Dragnet was, because the rhythms they created were so unique.
And that's what I tried to recreate in that scene.
And of course, Philip Baker Hall was so serious.
He played it so straight that it was hilarious.
And I could listen to that.
I have to say I don't like to watch my own work, or even listen to my own work, or even think about my past work.
But that particular scene really does bring me a lot of joy.
So what was the genesis of the idea of it being like?
All of this hard-boiled stuff is about a library book.
Well, I mean again one thing about Seinfeld and Larry went through this a lot as well.
It's like the desperation for stories.
And we were always seeking some kind of premise, some kind of funny conceit that you could build an episode around.
And I had read about somebody who had kept a book for 20 years or something and the library didn't know what to do.
And I thought that was a funny idea.
And then I thought about this character who would be the library cop, who would have to go and sort of enforce the fine or the law.
And then that kind of like dovetailed with a Kramer romantic thing with the librarian.
All those things sort of started to weave together rather organically and an episode sort of emerged from it.
So it was very lucky that those elements sort of came together.
Wow.
One of the lines that Seinfeld fans always remember is not that there's anything wrong with that.
So I want to play that scene and I have a couple of questions about it.
So just to set it up, Jerry, George and Elaine are at the restaurant where they're always meeting.
And a reporter from the NYU paper is supposed to be meeting Jerry there for an interview.
Elaine notices that a woman is staring at them, listening intently.
She assumes this young woman is just eavesdropping on their conversation and thinks well, why don't we make a game of it?
Why don't Jerry and George pretend to be gay?
And we'll watch this woman's reaction as she's eavesdropping.
They don't realize that this woman is the reporter who's supposed to be meeting Jerry.
So she overhears this, assumes Jerry and George are gay.
She calls her editor, then leaves.
The interview is rescheduled to take place at Jerry's home.
And when the reporter arrives, George is there.
And everything that George and Jerry say, she interprets as being about their gay relationship.
So we'll pick it up in the middle of that scene.
Do you guys live together?
Live together?
No, I got my own place.
Oh.
And are you parents now?
Know what?
My parents?
They don't know what's going on.
Oh, God, you're that girl in the coffee shop that was eavesdropping on us.
I knew you looked familiar.
Oh, no!
No!
I better get going.
There's been a big misunderstanding here.
Yeah, yeah.
We did that whole thing for your benefit.
We knew you were eavesdropping.
That's why my friend said all that.
It was on purpose.
We're not gay.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
No, of course not.
I mean, it's fine if that's who you are.
Absolutely.
I mean, I have many gay friends.
My father's gay.
Look, I...
I love that scene.
What was this based on?
This was based on rumors about Jerry.
And it seemed like people because Jerry was so neat, which we talk about in this episode.
Jerry was very neat.
And he probably still is.
And his shoes were always, like, in his closet.
They were very well made. you know, kind of organized.
Everything was very well organized.
He was very fastidious.
And I think those cliches led people to kind of assume certain things about him.
He wasn't married.
He was a single guy.
He was a bachelor.
And I think these assumptions sort of led to some rumors.
And I thought that was kind of funny, knowing Jerry.
And he seemed to think it was very funny also.
And so I wrote an episode that sort of was based on that mistaken assumption.
And how did you come up with the line, not that there's anything wrong with that?
Well, the episode was originally pitched the season before.
And the network was, if you can believe this.
At that time the network was very nervous about doing that storyline.
So the next year, I sort of brought it up again.
What were they nervous about?
I think that the subject of homosexuality was still pretty much of a non-starter for networks at that time.
In comedy and in drama, it was very rare to see a gay storyline on television at that time.
This is the mid-'90s, I guess, or the early-'90s even.
And I don't think Ellen had come out yet.
You know, I think a lot of things changed in the wake of this.
Not necessarily because of this, but finally the times kind of changed enough that it became acceptable to start talking about that openly.
And here was a perfect kind of you know crossroads episode about the rumors about it without actually being about it itself.
It was more about how people make those assumptions based on very, very little evidence.
And so it was an episode that I had written before.
I brought it up again.
And this time there seemed to be a little more openness to it.
But it seemed like we needed something to sort of mitigate the talk.
We didn't want it to seem homophobic.
And so this expression not that there's anything wrong with that, It was in the script, maybe once originally.
And Jerry and Larry thought that's the key to this script is using that almost as a running gag through the show.
And so we put it in quite a bit through the course of the episode.
And that was the key to releasing the audience, allowing the audience, liberating the audience to laugh at all this kind of stuff.
Why do you think that line caught on the way it did?
I think it's, you know, like a lot of great Seinfeld.
You know we had tried to come up with catchphrases just for fun sometimes, like those pretzels are making me thirsty was actually an attempt to create a catchphrase, which it sort of became in some ways.
But there were, like there were just things that an audience taps into that are kind of variables.
They're X factors that really are kind of mysterious in a beautiful way.
And the audience just sort of tapped into that line and were able to use it.
It applied to so many things in life that it became kind of a universal sort of you know thing to sort of attribute to almost any subject.
You write about the time that Julia Louis-Dreyfus came to the office in tears.
She felt her character hadn't been developed enough, that her character was basically just a prop for the guys.
There was not much for her to do.
What was your reaction when she came to you that way, and what changed as a result?
Well, first of all, seeing anybody cry is you want to help them in some way.
And so I think that we all felt tremendously guilty.
We all felt like she was right.
And but we weren't that adept at. at fixing the problem.
We weren't sure what we could do.
We didn't have great insights into female characters in general.
We were guys.
We wrote about guys' things.
And it was very hard for us to do anything but make her some kind of foil until Larry had the idea finally, because of her coming in to give her somebody else's story, to give her a George story.
And that was the liberation of Elaine's character.
What was the story you gave her?
It was a story that Larry had had about – which was in that episode.
I think it was The Busboy.
I'm not sure.
Where Larry had had a girlfriend from out of town come and stay with him.
And he was excited about it.
But by the end of the weekend –
All the excitement had worn off and he wanted her to leave.
And she decided to stay a few extra days.
And he was trying to coax her and cajole her into leaving early.
And we thought that was a story that we could give to Elaine and she could have a boyfriend who's coming in from out of town.
And it showed a side of her, a darkness to her, a neurosis to her that had not been evident before.
And it showed that she had all the same problems and therefore all the same comic possibilities of the other characters.
And it allowed us to write for her much more freely after that.
And is that when you started bringing on women writers?
That was around that time.
The women writers still were very few and far between.
Carol Leifer came on.
There were two or three women writers who came on the show who did well.
And yes, there was a search.
There was always a search for... for people that could write Seinfelds.
It was tough to find writers who could tap into that darkness in themselves.
And if they were women or men, it really didn't matter at that point.
We were looking for anybody who could possibly express themselves in a Seinfeld script.
You say that it was you who really developed the character of Kramer and you gave him his conspiratorial mindset.
You had worked with him on Fridays a sketch comedy show on Friday nights.
That didn't last long, but a lot of great people worked on it, including Larry David, who you work with in later years as well.
So you saw this great potential in Michael Richards because of Fridays.
You thought he was a real comic genius.
So tell us what you did to expand his character.
Well, that was kind of a convergence there, because you had the real Kramer, whose name was Kenny Kramer, who was Larry's next-door neighbor.
And he was kind of – and I say this all in very positive tones.
He was a weirdo in his own way.
And then you had Michael, who was also kind of a weirdo in his own way.
And me, I was very much of a weirdo in my own way as well.
Larry was too, you know, but in a different way.
Larry's thing was, you know, kind of his neurosis kind of fell into different categories than mine.
I was more of like an underground person.
And I felt like Kramer, I could connect to Kramer more.
On that level, a guy who was scheming, a guy who was always trying to figure some angle.
And I kind of like that about Kenny Kramer.
And I knew that Michael could take that and with his physicality, make that into something original.
And it was an untapped part of the show as far as I was concerned.
Originally, Kramer was just a character who came in from next door, did a scene and left, like many traditional actors next-door neighbors in sitcoms and I felt like wow, this is an area that I could explore and I could expand upon, and it worked.
You know you describe how traditionally in sitcoms there would be the burst into the room scene where the neighbor comes in and bursts into the room and tells what just happened.
But all the action of what just happened happened offscreen.
And it seems to me you really exaggerated that with Kramer, because when he bursts into the room he bursts in the room and skids across the floor.
Yes.
He was an amazing physical and is, I'm sure still, an amazing physical comedian.
He had gifts and those gifts I saw on display often on Fridays.
He did things that you would just.
You would be aghast that he was able to pull off some of the physical gags that he did.
So I knew what he was capable of.
But he created a lot of that business on the fly, as in rehearsals and then in front of the audience.
Yeah.
Larry David put a lot of his own life into the personality of George.
Did you put part of yourself into the writing?
And are there personal parts of your life, of your background story that you wrote in?
Yeah, I think that my interests were kind of different than Larry's and Jerry's.
I was more interested in, you know, the counterculture, the underground world.
I loved underground comics and weird music.
And I had strange friends like Bob Sacramento, who was Kramer's unseen friend.
That was a real person from my life.
And I had a lot of friends who were, like, into, you know, weird stuff.
And that was a world that was not being tapped into.
It was also a lower economic world.
It was a lower economic status world.
And I like the idea of Kramer.
How did Kramer make a living?
How did he get his money?
How did he make the rent?
And I thought those ideas were kind of interesting to me.
That sort of desperation gave stakes to the character, you know?
Well, let me reintroduce you again.
If you're just joining us, my guest is Larry Charles, and his new memoir is called Comedy Samurai.
We'll be right back and talk more about his TV and movie work and his life after a break.
I'm Terry Gross, and this is Fresh Air.
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You describe yourself as a punk from Brooklyn.
In what sense did you think of yourself as a punk?
Well, I mean, there was a literal sense and a kind of sensibility sense.
Again, I was attracted to underground literature.
Jean Genet, you know, Hubert Selby, Last Exit to Brooklyn.
I liked, again, outsider stuff.
Why?
I don't know, but that's what I sort of gravitated towards.
In movies, I was a gigantic fan of John Waters.
I would go into the city at that time, and it was a fertile time in the city for that sort of stuff.
And you could see underground movies by Ken Jacobs or Jack Smith or all these interesting underground filmmakers.
And so there was this other thing going on.
There was this other art being made and music.
You could go to CBGB and for a couple of bucks you could see the Talking Heads and the Ramones and Blondie all on the same bill, you know.
And so for very little money, you could be exposed to really interesting and edgy and outsider culture.
And I really gravitated to that.
What made you love comedy?
Well, my father was a failed comedian.
He was?
Yeah.
He came out of World War II and used the GI Bill to go to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.
And he tried stand-up comedy for quite a while.
His stage name was Psyco, the exotic neurotic.
And he...
He would have material like in a trunk in his closet.
And I would go in there and read that material on this onion skin paper typed up.
And he was always on.
My father was always on.
He was more concerned with me rather than learning math or science.
He wanted me to learn the dialogue from White Heat.
Or he would be quoting Jerry Lewis, you know.
And so I was just exposed to that.
And even when he dropped out of show business he had a lot of friends who stayed in it, not necessarily as actors or comedians, but they became like lighting directors or the stage manager at the Ed Sullivan Show, a guy named Tony Jordan.
And then he would take me, my dad would take me to the Ed Sullivan rehearsals.
And I would see the rehearsals and I became fascinated.
He was very into the glitz and glam, but I became fascinated by the behind the scenes stuff.
Like this is how you do a TV show.
And I'd be really, really into that and questions about that.
And that kind of planted a bunch of seeds in my head as well.
Well, just the fact that you had some kind of connection to that world must have made that world seem more reachable than it seems to most people.
It still was far away.
I mean, we would be going back to Brooklyn.
I mean, I couldn't imagine how to break through.
It was really Woody Allen reading about Woody Allen at that time in the 60s and how he sold jokes to comedians.
From being from that neighborhood and selling jokes to comedians.
That seemed to be like something I might be able to do.
Is that how you ended up selling jokes in front of a comedy store?
Exactly.
I thought that's my one in.
I can sort of write jokes.
I didn't even have a typewriter.
I mean, they were handwritten.
And I would stand in front of the comedy store like a drug dealer and stop comedians that I recognized and go.
You want to buy a joke?
And comedians were pretty cool.
And it was a golden age of comedy at the comedy store.
You had Richard Pryor trying out material.
Robin Williams was there every night.
And the two big comedians were David Letterman and Jay Leno, ironically enough.
And Jay Leno was a guy that bought material.
And I stopped him, and he said, oh, yeah, this is a good joke.
I'll try it out on stage.
If it works, I'll give you $10.
And it worked, and I got $10.
Do you remember the joke?
It had something to do with Delta Airlines, the airline run by professionals.
What do they have on the other ones?
Amateurs?
You know, something like that.
So what would you do say?
Like, hey, buddy, want a joke?
I mean, how come they would take you seriously and not just push you away and keep walking?
I had paper.
I had legal pages with me.
I would literally shove it at them.
At that time, things were much more open.
There wasn't security issues or fear.
Everybody was hanging out.
It was a very loose atmosphere.
And people needed material.
And here I was saying, I have it, I have material.
And so, you know, not everybody responded, but quite a few really cool guys did respond.
And I wound up being able to write for them.
Great story.
You were the showrunner for, I forget which season of Mad About You.
Was it the second season?
I think it was the fourth season, actually.
Okay.
And Helen Hunt and Paul Reiser played a married couple who you know got along pretty well.
Plenty of comedy, but you know they were in love.
And then you pitched them the idea of a two-season arc in which their marriage would be fraying, there was infidelity, but in the end they would reconcile and she would be pregnant.
So you write that you were basically writing a sitcom version of your life.
What was happening in your life?
Okay.
Those very things.
There was infidelity.
There was a breakdown of the marriage.
Your infidelity, right?
Mine, yes.
And we were drifting as a couple after being together a long time and also having babies at the same time.
So I thought that is a challenge.
I've always been interested in taking things subjects, themes that aren't necessarily funny, that might not be funny, and trying to find humor or comedy in them.
And that was the challenge of Mad About You for me.
That's one of the reasons I was attracted to do that show.
It was a little bit more autobiographical.
I had seen Mad About You as a show about two very loving people who were having a good time as a couple.
And I was like, well, this doesn't reflect my life at all.
And I thought it might be interesting to give them a layer, a darkness that might be a little bit more substantial.
And they were both, Paul and Helen, very responsive to that.
Okay, time for another break here.
Let me reintroduce you.
If you're just joining us, my guest is Larry Charles.
His new memoir is called Comedy Samurai.
We'll be right back.
This is Fresh Air.
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You write that comedy should be dangerous.
It should be risky and it was quite literally dangerous and risky when you work with Sacha Baron Cohen on Borat and Bruno, two fictional characters that you and he brought into the real world to interact with real people who had no clue that these characters weren't real.
And you use them to expose sexism anti-Semitism racism, as well as some acts of kindness and generosity.
Borat was – the character of Borat was an anti-Semitic misogynistic racist, clueless journalist from Kazakhstan who had come to America to make a documentary about American ways.
And Bruno was an over-the-top stereotype of a gay fashion reporter.
And you'd film scenes of them interacting with real people who have to react to these characters, while these characters say and do very offensive things.
So it was part of your job to deceive people and tell them that the fictional characters are real people.
How did you feel comfortable doing that?
Well, again, growing up in Brooklyn, I had to extricate myself from many tense situations.
And so I was kind of uniquely qualified to be able to weave a story to get out of trouble in some way.
And so I was all about getting the scene and I would do anything.
I was in that mindset that I psyched myself to do anything that had to be done and any means necessary to get that scene.
And I didn't really care in the moment what I did to do that, what line I had to cross to accomplish that.
Maybe in the aftermath, I would have second thoughts.
But at the time, I was only looking to make this movie great.
And that's what that movie needed.
That movie needed me As much as it needed Sasha, of course, to do his performance.
I wanted to make sure Sasha could do his performance unfettered, without any obstacles.
And I would do anything to accomplish that.
You know one of the things I was thinking of and you know it's been a while since I saw it, so correct me if I'm getting it wrong.
But Bruno, the gay fashion journalist, is in a room with Bob Barr, who had been a conservative Republican congressman.
That's with Borat.
That's Borat, actually.
That's Borat.
Oh, OK.
So go ahead.
You describe it.
Well, I was going to say that the scene with Bob Barr was great, because Borat would come in to meet people and he would immediately kiss them first.
And that was a kind of like – Sasha had all these kind of psychological cues to see how a person – how pliant – a person might be in this scene.
So he would kiss men, and he'd only shake the hands of women, never kiss the women.
He would kiss men though, and if men accepted the kiss, he knew that, no matter how hard-bitten they might be, they were probably more pliant than they realized.
So he would kiss them, then he would give them candies and little you know.
Flag pins of Kazakhstan.
And in the case of Bob Barr, He gave him some cheese.
He has some cheese wrapped in cheesecloth.
He opened the cheesecloth.
He gave Bob Barr cheese.
He said, this is cheese from Kazakhstan.
Bob Barr took the cheese, started to eat it.
And as Borat was describing the cheese, he finally realized that the cheese had come from his mother's breast.
And now the cheese was already being masticated by Bob Barr.
He couldn't spit it out on camera.
And you see him stuck walking. with this hunk of cheese in his mouth, trying to figure out what to do with it, and finally reluctantly having to swallow it.
It was a great moment.
But you're putting him in such an uncomfortable position.
You're putting him in a position where he has to look foolish no matter what he does.
So do you ever have pangs of conscience about things like that?
And things get much more personal and embarrassing for the people who are the targets.
Well, it is sadism in the name of satire to some degree.
These are people that were, you know, in our view, ruining the country, making horrible decisions prejudiced, racist.
These were the people that were the enemies in a way.
And so this was our way of sort of getting back at them.
You know, making them look foolish was a way to maybe dissipate their power.
And that was the best method that we had.
I'm trying to remember who it was with Bruno where you've arranged it so that the lights go out.
That was Ron Paul.
That was Ron Paul, yes.
So the lights go out in the main part of the hotel room.
So Bruno says, well, let's just go into the bedroom until the power comes back.
And then he kind of strips to his underwear and starts doing this seductive dancing.
And Ron Paul's pretending like oh, I'm so engrossed in the newspaper I don't even see what's happening.
And then he eventually like throws down the newspaper and like walks out.
And again, I haven't seen the movie in a while but in playing that scene back in my mind it's kind of sexual harassment.
Well, that's an interesting way of putting it.
I mean, whether you're like Ron Paul or not, you're still putting him in the position of kind of sexual harassment.
Right.
Well, I guess I can't really argue with that.
I mean, that may be true.
And at that time, that didn't seem to be a big issue.
We did that scene four times in one day.
And each of the politicians that came in had different reactions to Bruno getting undressed.
Yes, it was pushed.
It was crossing lines.
There's no question about it.
Could it be done today?
That is a question also.
I don't know the answer to that.
But that to me is what comedy has to be.
You have to sort of step over these lines and see what happens.
And maybe sometimes that line is too thick to step over.
But in that case, with Bruno in general as a character, it needed to be pushed that far.
Yeah.
You compared some of the work that you did with Sacha Baron Cohen to being a war correspondent, because you were both putting yourself in danger all the time.
And you really had to flee sometimes and the police were after you too.
And then, more recently, you did a series called Larry Charles' Dangerous World of Comedy in which you went to countries in the Middle East and in Africa run by authoritarian governments, where there were militias, you know, with guns at checkpoints.
You were in the middle of a volley of bullets at one point.
And I thought, well, maybe this is the end.
So the purpose of this documentary was to talk to people who were doing comedy in these kinds of places and see well, who are these people and what's the comedy like.
But you know, like I said, you had compared what you were doing with Sacha Baron Cohen to being a war correspondent.
And then for your Dangerous World of Comedy series.
You went to the places that war correspondents go to and experienced some of the more frightening aspects of being there.
And I'm wondering if, like some war correspondents, you had PTSD or felt like maybe you'd become too addicted to like the adrenaline rush of putting yourself in danger.
I think both those things are partially true.
I mean, I think that I did love the exhilaration that I got from directing Bruno and Borat.
When we survived a scene and we would get back in the van, we would explode with laughter.
I mean, we were so excited.
We felt like we were robbing a bank every day and getting away with it.
I mean, it was an incredible feeling.
And that is a very addictive feeling, I think, on some level.
When I was done with Larry Charles' Dangerous Worlds of Comedy...
I definitely felt that I had experienced PTSD.
I mean, I didn't know what I would do next.
I was kind of lost the way war correspondents who come home are.
So for me, it was a very analogous situation.
It really was.
You are so brave in your comedy.
You take incredible physical risks.
But you suggest in your memoir that in personal life you're a little more cowardly about being honest.
And the foremost example is with your first wife.
When you were unfaithful and then when you actually fell in love with another woman and she was in love with you and you had a long relationship on the side that your wife didn't know about and you knew the marriage was over.
But you stayed in it for years and you said that you were afraid to hurt your wife's feelings.
But you eventually ended it and married Keely, the woman who you'd been with for a long time on the side.
And looking back on it, do you think in your attempt to spare your wife...
And the separation and letting her stay in a marriage that you are no longer committed to made it worse for her when you did break up and when she did eventually find out that you had been with another woman for years.
Yes, I think I was very selfish.
I think it took me a long time to face up to it.
I think I was an emotional coward.
I have no excuses for that behavior, and I have instead many regrets.
I feel like I hurt a lot of people, especially my first wife and my kids as well, from that marriage.
I really was kind of like in a very self-involved, egocentric place, didn't have the courage to step out of it.
And it took me a long time to finally reach that point.
Therapy, you know.
Finally, just years of kind of facing it and avoiding it eventually got me to a place where I could do it.
And yeah, the damage that I did is something that I think about a lot.
I wish I could undo.
It is a regret that hovers over me, a regret that I've tried to honor.
I mean, I've tried to honor people's pain and I've tried to go forward with a great deal more compassion and understanding than I had back at the time all this was going on.
Because I have no excuses for it.
It was bad behavior, no question about it.
And if I was looking at it from outside, I would see it that way for sure.
Let's take a short break here.
If you're just joining us, my guest is Larry Charles.
His new memoir is called Comedy Samurai.
We'll be right back.
This is Fresh Air.
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At Fisher Investments, we prefer to use a sizable group of experts with a diverse skill set, diverse knowledge, all collaborating together to deliver what hopefully, is optimal advice for our clients.
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I hope they have a little bit more peace of mind.
I want to get back to your heart attack in March of 2024 and your close call with death.
You're Jewish by birth and culture, but you don't practice Judaism and I don't think you believe in God per se.
You directed Bill Maher's documentary Religious and Maher really doesn't believe in God or religion and kind of scoffs at people who do.
Some nonbelievers become believers and start praying, just in case there's a God when they think they might be facing death.
What about you when you were afraid that you were really facing death?
Well, first of all, I can accept the idea that there may be some intelligence to the universe.
How that manifests itself, I think, is beyond our comprehension.
I didn't turn to God.
I didn't... That wasn't an option for me.
I just had... come to that belief system.
And it seemed too hypocritical for me to suddenly leap on that bandwagon.
So that was not an option for me.
But I think it did expand my compassion.
I think it did expand my understanding and my commitment to alleviating suffering.
These were things that were not a concern of mine for most of my life.
And so now that is something that infuses my daily life.
You write in your memoir that hugging and learning is anathema to comedy.
And one of the mottos that I don't know who came up with it about Seinfeld was no hugging, no learning.
And you go on to say coldness callousness uncaring, uncompassionate disdain skepticism, scoffing at seriousness.
These are the building blocks of comedy.
And there was no room for genuine emotion.
Do you still feel like those negative feelings are the drivers of comedy and there's no room for genuine emotion?
Yeah.
I mean, I think the only genuine emotion that really seems to sort of fuel comedy is anger.
That is the emotion that I think does exist in comedy.
And I think a lot of comedians are working through that anger.
Whether it be Mel Brooks, one of the sweetest people in the world, or you know someone like Bill Burr or Louis CK, or whoever it might be, you will feel some sort of anger.
They have aggression towards the world that they have been, towards the hand they have been dealt.
And, but yeah, I do still kind of believe that.
It feels like if you are crying or you're feeling love, you're not laughing, right?
It's funny because Jerry Seinfeld is often offered as the person who doesn't fit, all of that like anger being the driving engine of his comedy.
Well, that's true.
But I think there probably is more anger there than we see on the surface.
And something we brought out in the show was that Jerry has a very dark side and a very cold side that he kind of has a sadistic glee about and is part of his comedy.
And he just is able to project a kind of sweetness, which is also real, but...
But that sort of dichotomy in him is part of the driving force of his comedy.
He could be very impatient.
You know, he could be very intolerant of other people's point of view.
That's a lot of where his comedy comes from.
He's making fun of what other people believe.
And so there is a lot of aggression to that as well, even though he presents it in a very palatable way, you know.
Yeah.
You write that now, post-heart attack, you think about death and impermanence every day.
In addition to thinking more about trying to help people who are suffering and be more generous, where else has that led you thinking about death and impermanence?
I think I've come to some sort of acceptance of the finite quality of this life.
And that was something that was hard for me to really accept.
I really did not like the idea.
I still don't like the idea of all of this being over.
It seems ridiculous to me that you go through this whole thing and all these problems.
You cause pain.
You receive pain.
And then at the end, you die.
You know, when I see people talking about legacies, I kind of laugh in a way, because it's all so temporary and it's all so short.
So I've tried.
I know I can't change that.
So I've tried to come to some level of acceptance about it.
Larry Charles, it's been a pleasure to talk with you.
Thank you so much for coming back to Fresh Air.
Great to talk to you again, Terry.
Anytime.
Larry Charles's new memoir is called Comedy Samurai.
Tomorrow on Fresh Air.
Our guest will be Dan Taberski, creator of the podcasts Missing Richard Simmons, 912 and Hysterical, which won this year's Ambie Award for Podcast of the Year.
He'll talk about why he's drawn to stories at the intersection of obsession, mystery, and culture.
Hysterical investigates an outbreak of mysterious symptoms among teenage girls in one high school.
I hope you'll join us.
To keep up with what's on the show and get highlights of our interviews, follow us on Instagram at NPR Fresh Air.
Fresh Air's executive producer is Danny Miller.
Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham.
Sam Brigger produced today's show.
Transcription by CastingWords We'll close with a song by Arthur Hamilton.
The songwriter died May 20th at the age of 98.
This is his most famous song, Cry Me a River, and this is the most famous recording of it, sung by Julie London.
I'm Terry Gross.
Now you say you're lonely, cry the long night through.
Well, you can cry me a river.
Cry me a river.
I cried a river over you.
Now you say you're sorry For being so untrue.
Well, you can cry me a river.
Cry me a river.
I cried a river over you.
You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head, While you never shed a tear.
Remember, i remember all that you said.
Told me love was too plebeian.
Told me you were through with me, and now you say you love me.
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