It's Garry Shandling's Turn.....

I’ve never been one for American comedies. In the Sixties the abundance of imports like Dick van Dyke, Lucille Ball and Green Acres left my young self cold, although I did have a sweet spot for Bewitched! In the Seventies, I shared Dad’s love of the old Sergeant Bilko episodes, and we all appreciated M*A*S*H, but not much else from the US of A made us chuckle, let alone split our sides. The Eighties didn’t offer much more either, but maybe I didn’t give them a genuine opportunity. 

Trailers for BBC2 and Channel 4 teatime fare such as The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Diff’rent Strokes and The Cosby Show never appealed, in part because of the wild laughter which seemed to follow every line, whether – to me - it was funny or not. I did try to watch Friends once but couldn’t stick with it; so prominent was the constant whooping from the studio audience that I felt like a guest at a party where I knew nobody and everyone else were best buddies. Perhaps I just wasn’t attuned to what makes Americans laugh. 

Then, one Sunday night in 1987 I happened across It’s Garry Shandling’s Show on BBC2. I evidently harboured low expectations because my diary entry summed it up as “surprisingly watchable”. Well, from such faint praise grew a deep affection. It was like nothing I’d seen before. Yes, there was irritating studio hilarity, but the live audience was very much part of each show, as were the crew. And then there was the star himself. 

I’d never heard of Garry Shandling, blissfully unaware of his reputation as a stand-up comedian and occasional guest host of NBC’s huge Tonight show. However, I quickly warmed to his somewhat gauche, self-obsessed TV celebrity persona amidst the organised chaos of the show’s format. Basically it subverted the whole sitcom genre. First and foremost, it smashed the ‘fourth wall’, addressing viewers directly - like Mrs Brown’s Boys, only funny - and even physically involving them in scenes. I particularly loved the idea of Garry driving a toy electric car from one set to another! And then it wasn’t entitled The Garry Shandling Show, but It’s Garry Shandling’s Show, that apostrophe a subtle but vital contribution to the gag. 

Most scenes purported to be in Garry’s own Californian condo living room but the cast knew they were part of a TV show. There were plenty of guest stars, but their names, like many of the cultural and TV references in the script, were way over my head. Yet it didn’t matter. Each show would begin with an opening skit or monologue prior to the jaunty, almost childish theme song. My favourite was when the star actually led the audience in performing it. Such were the Gordian knots weaved by the show’s premise that one memorable storyline had Garry facing eviction for broadcasting the TV show from his condo (actually a stage set based on his actual home – keep up!) because it broke the fictional condo association rules. Priceless. 

Apparently, the real-life Shandling was offered the lucrative roles of replacing Johnny Carson, then David Letterman, as one of the States’ top Saturday night chat show hosts but he turned both down. Instead his next triumphant series featured himself in a parody of a top Saturday night chat show, The Larry Sanders Show. And I’d like to thank BBC2 for broadcasting it over here, albeit in a graveyard slot, otherwise I’d probably never have watched it. Nobody else I knew saw it, so it felt like my own private pleasure. 

Unlike Garry’s previous programme, Larry Sanders… was for proper grown-ups. It had very naughty words and occasionally featured what we’d euphemistically call ‘adult themes’. However, Shandling’s character, similar to Steve Coogan in The Trip, was a more neurotic, vein and venal version of himself. Larry – not Garry, remember! – was simultaneously an insensitive, pompous prick and vulnerable celeb trying to maintain his position at the top of a notoriously greasy media pole. One false move, and you’re toast, and his slimy sidekick Hank, played by Jeffrey Tambor, was ready to pounce, although he was nowhere near good enough. 

It appeared to be a fairly realistic depiction of television ego battles, whether in producer Rip Torn’s office, the writers’ room or even on the set during commercial breaks. The awkward interlude with the excellent ‘studio guest’ Robin Williams playing himself was especially brilliant. All the characters were well rounded and I thought Shandling’s acting superb. Awards boards tended to agree, and the show earned multiple acting/writing nominations for Emmys and Golden Globes. 

I don’t recall seeing Garry Shandling on any other programme broadcast over here. He presented the annual celebfests such as the Grammys and Emmys, though not the Oscars, but if he appeared on UK chat shows I must have missed them. When he died in 2016, aged just 66, I only found out by means of a single-column obituary in, probably, The Guardian. Don’t worry, Garry; you’ve received the ultimate accolade of being one of this Brit’s TV Treasures.