I’ve noticed that YouTube is overflowing with quite good copies of the late 1970s television show, Fernwood 2 Night. When I was a kid, I thought it was a big deal. But I was wrong. It only played for 65 episodes during the summer of 1977. Then they did another 65 episodes in the fall of 1978 in a “national” format as America 2-Night. But I’m often impressed with just how good my taste was as a young boy. I don’t recall fully understanding the show, but I certainly understood that it was something hip and generally silly enough to enjoy.

The show had a strange birthing process. It all started with the comedic soap opera Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. I don’t know a lot about the show because it was far too dry for my young brain. Consider the following dialog from the first episode:

Funny stuff and throughout the episode, everyone seems more focused on the goats and chickens than the family. But after a year, Louise Lasser left the show. So they changed the show to Forever Fernwood, which ran for a half year with all the same characters except for Mary Hartman. And then they changed it to, Fernwood 2 Night — a local talk show.

Fernwood 2 Night was hosted by Barth Gimble, who is the brother of Garth Gimble, a wife beater on Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. Both characters were played by Martin Mull. Fernwood 2 Night is still pretty dry fare. But it is spiced up with Mull’s sarcasm and Fred Willard clueless silliness. The show also has Happy Kyne, as the band leader — played as dour as can be by Frank De Vol. It’s all brilliant.

The first episode is, “Talk to a Jew.” In addition to the titular segment, it also has Bruce Mahler as Howard Palmer playing piano while in an iron lung, which in addition to being offensively funny is also kind of amazing. I think you can find most of the other episodes on YouTube at this time. That also goes for Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman and America 2-Night as well.

As you have probably heard, Mike Nichols died on Wednesday. Much has been made of his career as a film director. And he did direct some great films. Of particular note to me are: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Catch-22, and perhaps oddly, Primary Colors. There are a lot of other fine films too. The one film I’ve never really appreciated is the one that people are most impressed with, The Graduate. For its time, it probably was great, but I have found it impossible to integrate it into its time. And I just don’t think it stands up to In Cold Blood, Bonnie and Clyde, or Cool Hand Luke. And that doesn’t even consider films outside the country like Samurai Rebellion, Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Oedipus Rex, or most especially La Chinoise. But that isn’t to take anything away from Nichols.

What I most remember him for was his sketch comedy work with Elaine May. When I was a teen, I found a whole bunch of records that must have belonged to by parents. It included most especially Shelley Berman and Mort Sahl. And that introduced me to other more edgy acts like Lenny Bruce — and Nichols and May. Of course, I had remembered comedy duos while growing up like Rowan and Martin, Stiller and Meara, and Burns and Schreiber. The two latter groups came out of Second City, just like Nichols and May. But none of them — funny as they were — compared to Nichols and May in terms of brilliance.

I’m very fond of this following “watercooler” routine. It involves the game show controversy, which you probably know from the film Quiz Show. But it is amazingly fresh because we are still as easily distracted by nonsense as ever. I remember during the OJ trial how people were so wrapped up in that, despite the fact that it had nothing to do with anyone’s life. One line really stands out, “If there was a war tomorrow, I couldn’t think about it.” The reason that the networks didn’t cover Obama’s immigration address last night was because they didn’t want to interrupt the prime time lineup. I mean, just imagine if Grey’s Anatomy had been delayed by a half-hour? Well, I suppose that would have given people something to talk about at the watercooler this morning.

Anyway, it is sad that Mike Nichols is dead. There was really no warning. He just died of a heart attack. He was 83, but that isn’t that old at this point. Still, I’ve always thought that Elaine May was the greater talent. She wrote two of Nichols’ better films, The Birdcage and Primary Colors. She also wrote and directed two comedy classics: Mikey and Nicky and Ishtar. The second film is not only great but an excellent example of how film critics are useless. Check out the review of Rotten Tomatoes and you will see the usual: a bunch of critics who have decided to not like a film and come up with reasons to justify it, “The performances are endearing enough, the pacing is actually quite crisp and there is no shortage of zany silliness in the story. It just never gels.”

Clearly, I will never be able to separate Mike Nichols from Elaine May. And now half of it has died. It’s sad. You really should run out and get The Birdcage for two hours of comedic genius. But I can’t offer you that. But I can offer you something just as good. The following video is from the American Masters series: “Mike Nichols and Elaine May — Take Two.” Well over half of it is just them performing. It’s great fun:

It is sad that Mike Nichols is dead; long live Elaine May!

In 2000, I actually saw the film The Replacements in the theater. It is a film starring Keanu Reeves, Gene Hackman, and Brooke Langton. And it tells the story of a group of scab players during a football players strike. At the time, I thought it was good enough. It’s just a light comedy that truly does have some funny moments. And I like Reeves and Hackman. And Langton is both a pretty and capable actor. I should have just kept those memories and not revisited the film. What I just listed is still true of the film. But everything else swamps the little that is good.

If I wanted to, I could easily crank out a couple thousands words about the truly vile treatment of unionization in this film. It’s still amazing to me that the default America position on unions is exactly what the power elite want. In the film, the players are going on strike because the multi-million dollar players are not making enough money, “Do you know how much insurance is on a Ferrari, mother?!” That’s an exact quote and that is the the essence of the film. Other than at the very end of the film, the owners are presented as poor victims of the evil players’ salary demands.

So the film is portrayed just as the Walton family wants: the powerful union players and the poor but scrappy non-union players who are just looking for a chance. And that’s fine, except of course, that the truly powerful people are not even mentioned in this pairing. People come to stadiums built with public money to see the union players, but it is the billionaire owners who make the lion share of the money. And according to America, the bad guys are the ones who the people are paying to see. Charming.

The treatment of unionization would be enough to ruin the film for me. But what really makes the film stand out is that it is as tired as anything I’ve ever seen. It is nothing but cliched characters put in cliched situations. There’s the big black gangsta who holds his gun sideways, the foul-mouthed, chain-smoking Welsh kicker, and skinny coward who runs very fast. (For the record, someone that fast would be employed as a safety, regardless of his catching abilities.) The film ends with the replacements winning the the last game of the season on the last play and getting into the playoffs, even though none of them will be playing in the playoffs because the strike is now over. It also has a very boring romance that mostly consists of one kiss — played embarrassingly for comedy — followed by a forced third act problem where Reeves stands up Langton, apparently because Reeves was taking advice from the evil unionized quarterback.

The funniest thing in the film is the cheerleader tryouts. And my understanding was that these were not scripted. Female actors were asked to come in and do bits. The best one was a woman dressed up to look more or less like a librarian. She then very awkwardly cheered, “Let’s here it for the quarterback. Hey-hey, ho-ho! Could anyone play better? Say-say, no-no! Tackle, tackle, tackle, tackle, tack, tack, tack! Show those other boys what they lack, lack, lack! If I gave you a dollar, you could keep most of the change, ’cause all I really want is a quarter back!” It is by far the most charming thing in the film.

The main thing I felt watching the film was battered. The film pushes the viewer from one bit of plot to another — at its best, it marks time from one gag to the next. But most of the comedy takes place in the first half of the film. By the second half, the film takes itself more seriously, although I truly can’t imagine why. Another thing I can’t understand is why Reeves and Hackman would want to be in this film. Did Hackman need to buy a new home somewhere? Did Reeves need more anti-stalking equipment? That’s all I can think of, because clearly they couldn’t have thought much of the film going in.

Of course, my normal standard for a film is whether it works; does it succeed in doing what the filmmakers set out to do? In a sense, it did. But that’s just because the filmmakers were clearly trying to make a commercial piece of garbage without working very hard. But that is such an ignoble effort that I think the the normal rules don’t apply. Anyway, the film doesn’t really work as an entertainment. It has its moments, but mostly the viewer feels dragged through it. And as it is, the film barely made back its production costs during its original release — indicating that on the “commercial” front, the film didn’t succeed.

I’m a fan of the Irish television series Ballykissangel. But I like all those kinds of shows because they are focused on something that we in the modern world have very little of: community. My community, off the internet, really consists of only three people: tens, hundreds, and thousands of miles away. That would be sad enough for me, but I’m afraid I’m fairly common in that regard. So if I can’t have much in the way of personal interactions, at least I can watch stories about characters who do.

I just watched an episode from the second series, “Only Skin Deep.” It has a subplot that is right out of Shakespeare. But I mean that in a good way for a change. Siobhan and Brendan have been friends forever. The local capitalist, Brian, is pushing a beauty pageant to get more tourist dollars for the area (he is also doing his usual machinations, but that doesn’t especially matter here). Siobhan is not happy about this and she is in the bar ranting about beauty pageants, “They’re just glorified cattle markets.” At that moment, Brian walks in and cruelly tells her, “What do you know about beauty contests? Let’s face it, it’s a long time since you qualified for a beauty contest of any kind — if ever!”

Siobham leaves the bar, humiliated. Brendan goes by her house later that night to check on her. They are both very drunk and they have sex. Brendan sneaks away in the morning, thinking he’s made a terrible mistake — ruining their friendship. In fact, Siobham thinks it is a one-off so he needn’t worry. Meanwhile, as the two of them don’t talk, Brian leaves a bouquet of flowers with a card at Siobham’s door to apologize for his rude remarks. Siobham finds it later, but the card is dropped without her noticing it. So she thinks they are from Brendan. Thus, the two friends have the idea that the other is taking their drunken romp more seriously than they actually are. It is an example of perfect farce plotting.

The story is paid off very late when Brendan tries to tell Siobham that they should stay friends. Siobham cuts him off before he can say anything, and tells him the same thing. Then as he stands there stunned and Siobham walks off, Brian passes her going the other direction. She turns around and yells to Brendan, “Thanks for the flowers; they were a lovely thought!” At that point Brendan and Brian and in a two shot. Brendan is mystified, but Brian gets a smile a mile wide.

Now, if I had a bunch of friends, I would have just related that story to them instead of you. But the truth is that I’ve tried to get everyone I know to watch Ballykissangel. But even when I get them to watch the first episode, no one is as charmed as I am. Maybe the problem is that most people are not interested in living in a world with such confused high jinks. Their loss!

When I was a teenager, I was crazy for Edward Albee. And I still love his work. In fact, I understand it a lot better than I did as a teen. Albee writes a lot about the aging process and the ways that people mature. The best example of this — and I would say his best play — is Three Tall Women. The first act involves a rich old woman who is dying. There is middle-aged woman who cares for her. And finally, there is a young woman — a lawyer who has come by to get some business matters taken care of. In the second act, the three actors become instances of the dying woman at those three times in her life. It is a remarkable and compelling way to tell her story.

More important, however, we get to see how the woman changes over time. The young woman is actually quite annoying in her moral certainty that she would never do things that the other women are telling her that she will, in fact, do. There is no one so slappable as a person who thinks themselves moral when they have never been tested. I know this is a very pessimistic look at life. But I can’t say that it isn’t entirely accurate. What’s interesting is that the woman is the very worst that we see from the pampered rich. So she has no real empathy for others. But see is at least able to accept who she is as she gets older.

It was only quite recently that I realized that what Albee does in Three Tall Women, he does in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I’ve never liked that play as much as some of his others. Largely, I think, it is because the people are all so horrible and yet it is realistic. But like much of his work, I think it is best after one has grown up a bit and seen what happens to people.

In Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? we see two couples — both intellectual. The older man is George, a history professor; the younger man is Nick, a biology professor. George and his wife Martha have reached that sad point that I see in a lot of old relationships where they can only connect by abusing each other. Nick and his wife Honey are certainly past the infatuation phase of their relationship, but they haven’t gotten to the point of thinking abuse is a substitute for affection. But what’s remarkable — and horrific — is just how easily George and Martha are able to to entangle Nick and Honey in their sick games.

What is clear is that we could visit Nick and Honey in twenty years and we would find George and Martha. The implication is that the younger couple is as infertile as the older couple. So even if they don’t make up a fake son as George and Martha did, Nick and Honey will find some other mechanism by which they can avoid dealing with the reality of living in a marriage neither of them desires. And we know that mechanism will be negative and will reach out beyond them to poison others.

Albee was already 30 years old when he wrote his first play, The Zoo Story. He was in his mid-30s when he wrote Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And he was in his sixties when he wrote Three Tall Women. I think that in itself is telling. Even at 30, one begins to get a clue of the ways our engagement with the world changes. And Albee has always understood how systemic these things are. Even in The Zoo Story, Peter and Jerry are entirely products of their environments. Peter living in a squalid tenement is Jerry; Jerry with an upper-middle class upbringing and a college degree is Peter. You could say the same thing about Seascape — although obviously we are talking about different species, which makes the point especially clear.

I think that is what Albee is most focused on when he does his best work: the way that the environment manipulates us regardless of how we try to resist. This isn’t always the case. In lesser plays like Tiny Alice and The American Dream, I’m not sure that even he knows what he is trying to say. But the more real the characters are, the more they seem trapped by the circumstances that brought them into being. In this way Albee is anti-Romantic. There is no classical tragedy because the characters aren’t in control. They are just reactions to the stimuli of their environments.