Pretty, Pretty, Pretty Good Page 17

  It turns out that the Reisers and the Braudys aren’t speaking to one another. Just as important for the plot is Larry neglecting to say hello to Mindy Reiser. But the immediate drama of the scene is the question of who is going to pick up the check. Stu Braudy, it turns out, always uses “the bathroom trick” — disappearing just as the check arrives. And bingo, he does it again. But it’s hard for the Davids to be mad when the Braudys are hosting a house concert with Alanis Morissette to raise money for the organization Cheryl volunteers for, the NRDC. And who was Alanis singing about in her famous song “You Oughta Know”? In fact, there has been much speculation about this Grammy-winning song. Larry offers a sly smile, assuring the group that he can get the secret from her.

  Let’s face it, we don’t think of Larry David as someone who cares all that much what people think of him. But evidence shows this not to be true, for he does make the occasional gesture to prove himself a decent guy. In this show the desire — the need — to be thought well of takes on grandiose proportions. And the person Larry needs affirmation from is . . . Mindy Reiser, the very woman he ignored in the restaurant. As he himself says, she no doubt thinks he’s an asshole. Knowing what she thinks, he feels a burning need to make amends. And so when he is told a terrifying secret, a secret he must not reveal, he chooses to tell only one person. Mindy.

  The secret, which Wanda tells the Davids (she has a source in the CIA), is that a terrorist attack on L.A. will occur that weekend. There’s a truly awful-wonderful scene after she leaves in which Larry says they should forget about the house concert and get out of town. When Cheryl refuses he says, “Maybe . . . ah, maybe I can go?” Cheryl suggests that it would be better for them to be together if such a terrible thing occurred, but Larry replies that at least one of them should survive. He even gently accuses her of being “selfish” for wanting him to “perish” as well. It’s a great scene, played in a brilliantly low-key manner by both Cheryl Hines and Larry David.

  The only problem is that nobody, including Alanis Morissette, shows up for the concert. That’s because Larry, wanting to get on Mindy’s good side, tells her about the attack and Mindy, a well-known big mouth, tells everyone else. The Braudys and the Davids have a shouting match and afterward the concert is rescheduled for a night at Larry and Cheryl’s house, only this time the Reisers and not the Braudys are invited.

  Larry insults Mindy Reiser a second time when he deserts her in her perfume shop to greet Martin Short who happens to be passing by. Short’s appearance feels a little arbitrary but he is his usual impish self as he tries to teach Larry to speak in the voice of Jiminy Glick. Meanwhile an angry Stu Braudy has bashed his car into Alanis Morissette’s so that she has to perform the concert wearing a neck brace. Larry has already won her confidence enough for her to confide in him just who “You Oughta Know” is really about and when she begins to sing it Larry slips beside Mindy Reiser to tell her. No doubt the well-kept secret will soon be public knowledge, but Larry will finally get what he needs. Mindy Reiser will like him.

  The episode is a highly amusing one and it benefits from being less convoluted and more unified in its storytelling. The treatment given to the subject of a terrorist threat — or rather the characters’ very human responses — has a positive cathartic effect, providing the kind of release that only good comedy can.

  EPISODE SIX

  The Special Section / Original Airdate: October 20, 2002 / Directed by Bryan Gordon

  According to the ratings on the film and television website The Internet Movie Database (IMDb.com), the best loved episode of the third season is number eight, “Krazee-Eyez Killa.” But for my money this is the best, not only of the season, but of the first three years. There are four reasons. First, the surprise opening. Second, it’s more unified and focussed than a lot of episodes. Third, Larry actually cares about something. And finally, Shelley Berman. The man is gold, pure gold.

  And what an opening! Here is Larry, ridiculously outfitted in a fair toupee, moustache, and slick suit, standing on the roof overlooking the bridges and skyline of New York City. From the beginning it’s clear he’s playing some sort of role as he berates a line of Mafia-type hoods, screaming at them, taking out a wad of bills, and slapping one in the face. “Go ahead, take the fuckin’ money,” he screams. Then he grabs one, hauls him to the edge of the roof, and begins to throw him over.

  “Cut!” cries the director and the camera pans to show none other than Martin Scorsese in the director’s chair. Larry in a Scorsese film? The two consult; Scorsese wants the threat of violence to come more quickly, Larry suggests holding up a bag containing a pair of testicles. “It won’t read,” Scorsese insists, film-talk meaning the audience won’t be able to tell what it is. Rather than being grateful to have the part, Larry acts annoyed and impatient as he begins another take. “You do too many takes, Marty,” he says. “You know, Seinfeld, we did two takes and then we’re done.”

  This little gibe at one of the great American directors is a joke on himself, for Larry David will often do a lot of takes for Curb. But Larry’s impatience, it turns out, has another source. He’s anxious about his mother’s health back in Los Angeles and his father hasn’t answered any of his phone calls. Larry, it seems, has a heart after all.

  Rushing back to California, Larry takes a cab to the condominium he rented for his parents. At the door a surprisingly small Jewish man hugs his son. It’s the first time in the series Berman appears as Larry’s father. “How ya doing, boychickel?” What follows is a wincingly funny riff on one of the stereotypes of the Jewish mother. The first is a woman who won’t leave her son alone, constantly interfering with his life. But the second is the self-effacing mother, who refuses to be a bother, to have any negative influence on her son’s enjoyment of life. It’s the latter that Larry David plays on as his father on the show, Nat, explains that his mother explicitly told him not to bother Larry while he was having a good time in New York. Turns out his mother took a turn for the worse and ended up in the hospital, but according to Nat she isn’t there anymore. So she’s better? Larry wants to know. His father hems and haws in embarrassment. “So after a day or two, nobody goes on forever and ever . . .” At last Larry says, “She’s dead?” “Ah, yeah,” his father finally admits.

  Not only did he not call Larry when his mother became more ill, he didn’t call him to attend the funeral either. In fact, her last words before dying were not to call Larry and interrupt his good time. So everyone was there — everyone but Larry. Even his cousin Andy, who is staying with his father and now appears. “I missed the funeral because she told you not to call me? That’s what you’re telling me?”

  Shelley Berman plays the role of Nat with a wonderful old-world gentility and a slight formality of diction rather than a heavy Yiddish accent and the usual shrieking. Cousin Andy, on the other hand, is played by Richard Kind, a shticky actor with a wide mouth who is an alumnus of the Los Angeles Second City and is best known for his recurring roles on Mad About You and Spin City. He has since had a major role as troubled Uncle Arthur in the Coen Brothers’ Oscar-nominated film A Serious Man (2009). Kind is a natural comedian with a very Jewish demeanor and his needling Larry for not calling him when he was in New York is very good indeed. In fact, this whole extended scene is a comic marvel.

  If there is a bright side to anything, even the death of your mother, Larry is sure to find it. At home, Cheryl goes over the messages accumulated while they were in New York. They are supposed to have dinner with a couple called the Mandels, but Larry tells her to cancel it. When she offers Larry’s mother’s death as an excuse and the people sympathize, a light goes on in Larry’s head. He has found the perfect excuse to get out of anything he wants. Immediately he makes a bunch of calls to cancel arrangements, even getting out of a bat mitzvah he’d been dreading. On the street, he gets out of a “stop and chat” and later when Cheryl doesn’t want to have sex, he half sobs, “I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye,” and she takes him in he
r arms. It’s a tender moment even as it shows the opportunistic side of Larry.

  The truth is, we all like a little sympathy now and then, but Larry’s turmoil over his mother’s death is not over. Visiting the cemetery, he finds to his shock that her coffin has been moved to a “special section” of ground that has not been consecrated. It seems that his mother had a tattoo on her buttock, which is against Jewish law (it’s in Leviticus, you can look it up). That it is highly unlikely a Jew of his mother’s age would have one is perhaps best glossed over. To Larry this is an outrage and he conspires with the gravedigger to secretly move her grave, passing him a wad of money. The man takes the money but even so he makes Larry, his father, cousin Andy, and Jeff do the digging.

  That Larry would feel so passionate about his mother’s resting place adds . . . well, not a poignancy, but a strong purpose to the episode. The way it backfires, and of course it will, is that the wad of money Larry gives to the gravedigger turns out to be the phony bills used in the Scorsese movie. The gravedigger calls the cops on him.

  From the surprise opening to the more typical ending, everything in this episode works. Shelley Berman has become adorable in old age, and his comic timing is impeccable. Small moments, such as Larry arguing with Andy about whether L.A. has Chinese food as good as New York, add greatly to the episode’s portrait of a believable Jewish family. A subplot about meditation and mantras with Richard Lewis is not at the same level, but it’s not bad either. Mark this one a classic.

  EPISODE SEVEN

  The Corpse-Sniffing Dog / Original Airdate: October 27, 2002 / Directed by Andy Ackerman

  You have to feel a little sorry for Jeff Greene, Larry’s manager. Okay, he cheated on his wife. But does that mean he should get so few good moments on the show, nothing compared to Larry’s other best friend, Richard Lewis? And now that he’s on the straight and narrow, he has to constantly suffer with allergies from the German shepherd that Susie took in. And Oscar the dog (who Larry seems to genuinely like, calling him “Oskey” and scratching his ears all the time) gets more screen time here than Jeff.

  First there are the Braudys. The Davids have a makeup dinner with them where Stu finally picks up the check. They’re looking for a dog and Larry figures he can do a good deed for them and Jeff by helping the Braudys to take Oscar. The good will is marred somewhat, though, by Susan Braudy feeling insulted when Larry thanks Stu for dinner but refuses to thank her. Stu’s the one with the job, he says. He made the money.

  It isn’t that Larry doesn’t like children. In fact he seems to like them, if not quite as much as dogs. But he doesn’t really focus on them, clue in to what is going on with them — which is what happens when he goes to see Sammy, Jeff’s young daughter, and convinces her she should give up the dog for her daddy’s sake. Sammy drinks a glass of wine Larry has poured, thinking it’s grape juice. Although she looks and sounds clearly soused, Larry only thinks that she has suddenly developed a speech impediment. She drunkenly agrees to give up the dog and Larry gives it to the Braudys.

  But not before the dog visits the restaurant, which is three days away from opening. Oscar begins barking and scratching, and since he is a trained corpse-sniffing dog the police are called and insist on digging up the earth. Eventually they find only a bra (rather anticlimactic), but the opening is set back weeks. All the investors are crushed — all but Larry, who gleefully realizes that there now will be time to put the splash guards between the urinals that he wants. It’s hard not to think that one of the reasons for Larry’s lightheartedness in these matters is all that money he’s sitting on. If he lost his entire investment it would have been worth it just for the diversion. But for others it matters a whole lot more.

  Jeff’s wife Susie has been rather subdued for a couple of episodes but Jeff moving back in seems to have returned her to her old self. “You sick fuck,” she blasts Larry for getting Sammy drunk. “She stinks like a fucking wino.” Susie gives him his marching orders; get the dog back.

  Larry insists on saying what he honestly feels with two exceptions: one is when he is under physical threat; the other is when he is trying to get himself out of a jam. So now he returns to the Braudys and apologizes to Susan for not having thanked her too for paying for their dinner. Never has such insincerity oozed from Larry’s lips. “You raise kids, that’s a full-time job,” he says. Eventually she sees through him, but with the help of a dog whistle he gets Oscar back anyway.

  After the sublime heights reached by the previous two episodes this one is a bit of a drop, but then greatness can’t be achieved all the time. The two finest moments are rather small ones. The first has Larry interviewing a prospective chef named Phil whom Larry takes to immediately because he is bald. The two have a knowing conversation about baldness as only two club members can — when did you start losing it, the need for sunscreen, etc. Their shared hatred of men who try to cover up with hats or, even worse, toupees has some great give and take between Larry and the actor Ian Gomez, a frequent television performer who learned his improv skills in Chicago. “I’m surprised Hitler didn’t round up the toupee people,” Larry says.

  The other moment is Jeff’s finest performance in ages and it’s a wordless one. Shot from above, it shows Jeff arriving home. Larry appears with Oscar and he and Jeff confer a moment. Then Jeff goes into the house, gets his bag, and throws it into the car. And you know that he’s going back to the hotel where he’s been living to get away from the dog. The resignation and defeat are in the slump of his shoulders. Words are not necessary.

  EPISODE EIGHT

  Krazee-Eyez Killa / Original Airdate: November 3, 2002 / Directed by Robert B. Weide

  Larry David has said that improvising allows him to bring other voices into the show, voices that he himself couldn’t write. His example was Chris Williams playing the rap star Krazee-Eyez Killa and it’s a good one all right.

  At a garden party Wanda is showing off the big rock on her finger, for she has just become engaged to the rich rapper. Give Larry credit; when Krazee-Eyez recites a new rap about coming after a guy that’s full of violent sexual imagery Larry just listens appreciatively. He even offers a suggestion. “I would lose the ‘mother fucker’ at the end. Because you already said fuck once, you don’t need two fucks.” He suggests “bitch” instead. Krazee-Eyez likes the suggestion of substituting the word “bitch” so much that he declares Larry to be his “nigger.” For a change Larry proves himself to be uncharacteristically open-minded and even relatively at ease around a black person — at least until the subject matter of the conversation changes.

  “You like eatin’ pussy?” Krazee-Eyez wants to know. The rapper certainly claims to, preferring to sample many “flavors.” When it comes to infidelity Larry has always been disapproving and now he points out that once married to Wanda, Krazee-Eyez will have to be faithful. Not to worry, Krazee-Eyez assures him, Wanda will never find out. As for Larry’s own liking for the act of cunnilingus, he admits to being “too lazy” and finding it a “whole to-do.” Besides, it hurts his neck. Seems there’s a little of Kramer in Larry; remember when he admitted to preferring a woman on top (“Let her do the work”)?

  The engine of the story is Larry’s fear that Cheryl or someone else will tell Wanda about Krazee-Eyez’s cheating and that the rapper will think that Larry told and come after him. The second story line has Larry needing to do some reshoots on the Scorsese film. The only problem is that Cheryl got rid of the jacket he wore and needs again. Larry finds another in a store on Melrose but ends up insulting the salesperson by insisting on folding up a sweater. He gets thrown out without the jacket. This device of Larry needing something but shooting himself in the foot was used a lot in the first season and is a tad stale.

  But all things work out in the end. The costume person on set has another jacket, Larry makes up with Cheryl — who heard about his attitude to oral sex — by performing the act on her. Or almost works out: during his filming for Scorsese, Larry begins to make an awful choki
ng, throat-clearing noise. One of Cheryl’s pubic hairs is caught in his throat.

  This may have been the season’s most popular show and no doubt it’s Chris Williams’s funny, energetic performance as Krazee-Eyez that gives it such appeal. Watching him give Larry a tour of his house where he points out even the floor, made out of “some floor shit,” is certainly a highlight. Although just as good is an earlier scene in which Larry refuses to take a tour of Jeff and Susie’s new home in Larry’s neighborhood (another enormous, bland house). “Get the fuck out of my house right now!” Susie yells. Essman is in fine form these days. The pubic-hair-caught-in-throat is certainly an uncomfortable gag (in both meanings of the word), the kind Larry David likes to foist on us now and then. And it feels somewhat humiliating for poor Cheryl. But as can be seen in the next episode, Larry David is far from finished using this gag to make us uncomfortable.

  EPISODE NINE

  Mary, Joseph and Larry / Original Airdate: November 10, 2002 / Directed by David Steinberg

  What is more uncomfortable, having a pubic hair caught in your throat or being a Jew at Christmas? This seems to be the unlikely question asked by this very funny Christmas episode, directed by that nice Jewish boy David Steinberg.

  The Christmas episode is, of course, a staple of television shows, an opportunity for family members to reconcile and a warm and cuddly feeling to be offered to the audience. By now we expect Larry to invert the normal expectations and he certainly does. All he needs to do is bring Cheryl’s parents and sister Becky to stay for Christmas.

  “Hold on, a Christmas tree?” Larry says. “It’s too weird. I’m a Jew. To have a tree in the house is bad luck.” Larry might not be a practicing Jew, but he’s happy to define himself by what he is not: a Christian. But a tree the Davids get, and a whopping big one too. At least Larry has Jeff to commiserate. “It’s not going to end there,” Jeff says darkly. Larry begs off helping to decorate it and reads in bed while Cheryl’s family sing endless carols at the piano. And then he insults them by accidentally desecrating their beliefs in a manner that Freud could have written a fine paper about. He eats the cookies that they baked for a manger scene at church. He thought they were zoo animals. He thought Jesus was a “monkey.” The family screams at him, but Becky gets off the best line: “You just ate our Lord and Savior.”