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  The buildup to the new season was very big, with articles about the reunion story in virtually every magazine and newspaper and every entertainment news show. The Curb Your Enthusiasm seventh season began on September 20, 2009. The critics were almost unanimously ecstatic. Newsweek declared the story arc to be “genius.” Entertainment Weekly called it flawless and a big step up from the previous season. “If there’s a funnier show on television, let me at it,” wrote Tom Shales of the Washington Post. And they had only seen the first episodes. Viewers tuned in to the show in increasing numbers so that by the finale the numbers had grown to about two and a half times the previous season’s.

  And then came episode seven, “The Bare Midriff.”

  In past seasons, Larry David’s irreverent treatment of Christianity resulted in some superior episodes, such as “Mary, Joseph and Larry” and “The Christ Nail.” In both it wasn’t the idea of faith that he mocked (although he has stated publicly that religion in general is “ridiculous”) but its superficial, even kitschy trappings — grown men and women dressed as biblical figures, fake artifacts from a movie. In both TV and movies, Christian settings and themes — or at least watered-down versions — dominate. Every year there are countless Christmas television shows, specials, and movies. One show from a Jewish perspective (well, from Larry David’s cranky, amused assimilated-Jewish perspective) could hardly be a threat. Nevertheless some people would find it so.

  “The Bare Midriff” aired on October 25, 2009. While it advanced the Seinfeld reunion plot, it has a story all its own. Maureen, a receptionist for Larry and Jerry who are writing the reunion script, likes to wear short shirts that show her belly. She has lost considerable weight and is proud of it, but she is still a little chubby and the two men find her attire distasteful. When Larry asks her to dress more modestly, she gets offended and quits. Larry goes to her mother’s house where she lives in order to ask her back and, while there, asks to use the bathroom. He has been taking some pills that result in a powerful stream and at the toilet he accidentally splashes a large painted portrait of Jesus hanging on the bathroom wall. He is distressed by the accident but seems to decide that it’s better to leave the picture alone. However, when Maureen and her mother see the drops they mistake them for Christ’s tears and declare that a miracle has taken place.

  Immediately after the show’s airing, the assault began, most of it on the Internet. Catholic League President Bill Donohue made a statement on the organization’s website. “Was Larry David always this crude? Would he think it comedic if someone urinated on a picture of his mother?” He accused HBO of being anti-Catholic.

  “Why is it that people are allowed to show that level of disrespect for Christian symbols?” asked Deal W. Hudson, who ran InsideCatholic.com. He demanded a public apology from the show.

  James L. Hirsen, on the site FirstLiberties.com, wrote, “According to David’s comic sensibilities, people who believe in miracles are dolts, but people who have hybrid cars parked in the driveways of 15,000 square-foot mansions in Beverly Hills are rational.”

  But the most vicious attack came from the Jewish-born Michael Savage, an extreme right-wing commentator with a very large radio audience of eight to ten million listeners. His radio commentary, later posted on YouTube.com, named Larry “Hollywood idiot of the day.” Savage called Hollywood a “sewer pipe” spewing its foul creations on America, and denounced Larry David not only as anti-Christian but as an “anti-Semite in Jew’s clothing” who fostered stereotypes of the weak Jew. Using apocalyptic language, he declared that Larry would bring a “terrible calamity upon the Jewish people.” He called for every Christian American to be “outraged” and for them to force HBO to take the show off the air.

  Larry David himself did not bother to respond. But HBO did issue a written statement. “Anyone who follows Curb Your Enthusiasm knows that the show is full of parody and satire. Larry David makes fun of everyone, most especially himself. The humor is always playful and never malicious.” And on the web, fans posted comments defending the show, saying that religious people needed to have a sense of humor. While it seems unlikely that Larry was deliberately trying to provoke public responses, it was equally doubtful that he was being affected by them much. No doubt he would continue to write the show just as he wanted to.

  CHAPTER 13

  Pretty, Pretty, Pretty Good

  On Curb Your Enthusiasm Larry might have reunited with Cheryl, but in real life Larry David was a divorced father of two and dating again. He was a combination of hopefulness and cynicism not unlike his fictional persona. “I would like to meet a woman who likes me at the same time I like her,” he said. “But I realize that’s impossible. And against nature. No. Nobody can pull that off. They like you, and you like them, and you’re having sex? That’s not happening.”

  An interviewer suggested to him that being rich, famous, and funny put him on Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor list, but Larry shrugged it off. “Women don’t like the humor when it’s combined with inconsideration and insensitivity.” Yet he did begin to enjoy his newfound freedom. Being single, he decided, was “better than okay.” That was about as positive as Larry David could get.

  Curb Your Enthusiasm now had enough episodes in the bank that it could look to syndication, where the real money was, as well as the potential for a larger audience. In November 2009 the first syndication rights were grabbed by the TV Guide Network. Only recently had the network begun broadcasting shows; until then it had simply shown TV listings. The executives thought that being the first to show Curb in syndication would wake people up to its new role as an actual broadcaster. But immediately after the sale, Larry was sorry that he had signed onto it.

  “I regretted it instantly,” he said. “I knew there was no way they would be able to cut it down.” The problem was that now it was in syndication, the show had to be interrupted by commercials. That meant that each episode could only be about twenty-one minutes long. But the shows that Larry produced were thirty minutes or even longer. It wasn’t so much that Larry thought Curb was too sacred to cut, but that he didn’t think it would be possible to convey the convoluted multiple plots if bits were left out. The shows wouldn’t make sense.

  Larry David talked over the problem with Jon Feltheimer, the CEO of Lions Gate Entertainment, which now owned the TV Guide Network. “They’re going to take all the good out of it,” Larry moaned. He didn’t expect the generous response of Feltheimer and the network. They would program Curb in one-hour time-slots instead of thirty minutes, allowing for the full shows to be seen. The only problem was that there would be another seven to ten minutes of airtime to fill. Feltheimer said that Larry had to help him fill it.

  And so Larry came up with an idea — a talking-heads panel after each episode that could discuss any moral or other issues from the show. Susie Essman agreed to host it. The other panelists would be public figures, celebrities, sports figures, even rabbis. It was Larry’s hope that, while people would have strong opinions, they would also be funny. It was a unique way to solve the problem, and it pointed to one of the unique strengths of the show. Curb gave people a lot to talk about. The dilemmas that Larry either created for himself, or found himself in, were extreme examples of experiences that everyone has but made large, as if put under a microscope and blown up so as to be easier to see.

  But the real question was: would Curb Your Enthusiasm return for an eighth season? Certainly its fans wanted it to. And HBO. And the actors too. “I think it would be kind of sad and stupid to stop now,” said Bob Einstein (Marty Funkhouser).

  People were asking, but Larry wasn’t saying. Michael Lombardo, HBO president of programming, said, “Once the reviews come out and he’s feeling good and relaxed, that’s the moment I start sweet-talking him about the next season.”

  But even when Larry was feeling good about the show, he wasn’t sure. “I have to feel like I want to do it again,” he said. “I’ll check my idea book and see if, first of all, I have a go
od arc. Then I have to decide if I’m equalling or topping the last season. This one is going to be hard to beat.”

  In a radio interview in February 2010, Jeff Garlin reported that Larry was doing some writing for the show. And then, finally, in March 2010, Larry started to sound upbeat. “I’m leaning towards it, so I would say there’s a good chance.” If there was a new season it would include the actor J. B. Smoove as Leon, he said. The marriage of Larry and Cheryl, though, was less certain. Fans were overjoyed when, at last, the teasing ended and Larry confirmed that Curb would live for another season.

  Larry David began in stand-up comedy. And there was a time, after the staggering success of Seinfeld but before Curb took off, when he was seriously thinking of returning to his roots. “I think I finally could get an audience who would be on my side,” he said. “I’ve never done it under those conditions. I’d like to see what that would be like.”

  Returning to stand-up was the origin of the HBO special that became Curb Your Enthusiasm. But the strongest parts of that special were by no means the stand-up. Instead, they were they improvised fictional relationships between Larry and his wife, Larry and his manager, Larry and strangers — those are the scenes that really came alive. The simple truth is that the best form for Larry David’s comedy is not standing alone at a microphone, mocking his life, telling jokes, riffing on ideas. It’s acting and reacting with other characters — family members, friends, children, employees, waiters, receptionists, prostitutes, celebrities — in a specific place, and with consequences, which is narrative. He is an artistic instigator, a performance artist, an improv player, a playwright. His big subject is social behavior, or how human beings — with their needs, fears, prejudices, and aggressions — manage to live in such close proximity to one another. Race relations, rudeness and civility, selfishness and generosity, religious practice, friendship, attraction, love, sex and its complications, even dying — all of these subjects are primarily about how we treat one another.

  And by some miracle Larry David has found the fullest expression of his talent in the form of the situation comedy. Not the old, tired sitcom form, but a new, shaken-up, boundary-breaking form of half-hour television. He did it first on Seinfeld — tentatively in the early shows, then with a wild abandon in the later years. And he has done it again, in an even more satisfying and uncompromised way, on Curb Your Enthusiasm.

  In 2004, a clinical-psychology student at the University of North Carolina came up with the idea of showing Curb to schizophrenic patients at a state hospital. He showed them specific scenes — Larry opening the door of his dentist’s office only to explode with anger when the woman he let in ahead of him gets seen by the dentist first, or Larry fearing that his friends Mary and Ted are taking back an invitation. The student explained that on the show, Larry often broke just the kind of social rules that people suffering from schizophrenia break.

  Larry David’s response was to make a joke: “I knew that my own mental health was problematic, but should I be worried?” But the truth is many, if not most, people occasionally wonder about themselves. Did I get angrier than was warranted? Can nobody else see how unfair this is? Am I the one who’s crazy? The character of Larry is not schizophrenic, of course, but he does lack the social brakes that most of us have. He knows better, knows how a person is supposed to behave (at least most of the time), but he can’t get himself to stay within the accepted boundaries. Which is why he ends up in physical altercations so often (portrayed as comic and harmless). And why he has to offer a never-ending stream of apologies. By being this way, he makes clear the rules that we so often take for granted and that allow us to hide the emotions we would rather not have on display.

  Imagine for a moment the story lines on Curb being presented seriously rather than comically:

  • Two old friends both end up in a fist fight

  • A man cuts the hair of a young girl’s doll, traumatizing the girl

  • A man discovers that he was not informed of his mother’s death

  • A man wakes a surrogate mother up to the fact that she will be giving up her own baby

  • A man struggles to overcome his own fears of mortality and donates a kidney to a friend

  • A woman leaves her husband when she can no longer live with his obsessions and his neglect.

  Each of these stories is worthy of serious examination, and each explores an aspect of human relationships. Making us laugh is, of course, Larry David’s goal. He claims not to think about the stuff that comes along with the humor. But we think about it, even argue about it. That Larry David has found a way to explore our behavior, and some of our baser motivations, on a situation comedy is extraordinary. He does so in a manner that is very, very funny and yet, by creating discomfort, forces us to think in a larger way about what we are seeing, which makes it art.

  Yes, it is easy to forget that success was no sure thing for the Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, native, former bra salesman, limo driver, and frustrated stand-up comic. He had to have the strength of character to choose a risky, disrespected line of work. He had to get up in front of indifferent and even hostile audiences. He had to face down powerful television studio executives who did not understand his vision. At last overwhelmingly successful, famous, and rich, he had to stay deeply, viscerally in touch with the sources of his comedy.

  And how is Larry David doing? Pretty, pretty, pretty good.

  Episode Guide

  Larry David: Curb Your Enthusiasm

  HBO comedy special / Original Airdate: October 17, 1999 / Directed by Robert B. Weide

  This special was originally intended as a one-off, in the manner of other HBO comedy specials featuring the likes of Richard Lewis and Dennis Miller. Such specials might have some backstage funny business or skits, but the bulk of the show would be a performance before a live audience in a big theater. Larry David subverts the genre in two ways. First, he presents a fictional version of himself, with actors playing his manager and his wife. Second, the special culminates in a cancelled performance.

  The narrative of the special has Larry and his manager, Jeff Greene (Jeff Garlin), pitching the show and then preparing for it with several dates in small clubs where Larry tries out his old and new material. We also see meetings with HBO executives, where they present to him the proposed stage set — a recreation of Jerry’s apartment on Seinfeld, which Larry nixes. He hasn’t performed stand-up for over nine years, he never had the fame or following of other comics who get such specials, and the fictional (and possibly real) Larry acts understandably nervous about the enterprise, which is why he doesn’t appreciate it when wife Cheryl (Cheryl Hines) tells him after one show, “There are a few things that didn’t work.” She suggests he not use the word “pussy” quite so much.

  And how is Larry as a stand-up? Pretty, pretty, pretty good. But not great. His jokes are a tad esoteric, his delivery too exaggerated as he sometimes oversells the punch lines. They work fairly well in the intimate setting of a club, but it’s hard to imagine them bringing down the house in the 3,000-seat Pasadena Playhouse.

  In terms of the series that will develop from this special, perhaps more interesting are the small subplots that have no relation to the main story. One has Larry inadvertently insulting a woman performer by calling her Carolyn instead of Caroline, raising the subject of apologies that will become such a frequent and sadly necessary part of Larry’s life in the series. Another has Larry skipping the wake for an acquaintance’s recently deceased father, yet another social infraction that causes him grief. Death, too, will loom large in the series. A third is a situation that isn’t Larry’s fault but is only worsened by his guilty-seeming actions. The real culprit is the married Jeff, who meets a young woman named Becky for a tryst in New York where they’ve gone to work the comedy clubs. Larry is pushed into walking across Central Park with Becky, only to run into a friend of Cheryl’s. Larry appearing to have an interest in other women (or their specific attributes — breasts, derrieres) will bec
ome another staple of the series, even though Larry will prove to be the opposite of the straying husband. None of these stories is as fully developed as they will be in the later series, but all of them contain themes that will occur over and over.

  There are other moments—not story lines but much smaller bits—that point to the series to come. “I have a tendency to nod to black people,” Larry confesses, thereby introducing the very large subject of liberal white guilt and race relations in America in his own special way. And when Jeff insists that HBO pay for the porn movies that Larry watched in his hotel room, the special raises yet another big subject, sex and its subsets: pornography, the female body, fantasy, secrets, and masturbation.

  The look of the special — its rather bland settings and handheld camera work — give it an even more documentary feel than the series will have. The storytelling is also shaggier, without the absurd yet plausible crossing of story lines. Nor does its jazzy score provide quite the same underlining comic punch of the music in the series. And then there are the interviews, not to be used again, that punctuate the special. Three main purposes are served by these authentic seeming, entertaining, and insightful moments where comics and industry people talk about Larry. The first is to give the show a documentary feel. The second is to establish firmly for the audience that Larry David was the genius behind Seinfeld and bring into focus the vague image that viewers might have of him. Jason Alexander, who played George, says, “The average guy on the street didn’t know the funny stuff coming out of our mouths was coming out of Larry David.” Comedian and Seinfeld writer Carol Leifer asserts that Larry made Seinfeld “revolutionary.” The third purpose of the interviews is to help along the narrative of Larry putting on a night of comedy for the special. Other comics inform the viewers of Larry’s less than lustrous early stand-up career, leading to the special’s climax — or rather it’s anticlimax which, in its low-key manner echoes the end of the much less successful Seinfeld finale.