The manic mirth of Martin Short

I’ve been a serious Martin Short fan since I was a teenager busting up at reruns of “SCTV,” his brief stint on “Saturday Night Live” and his brilliant HBO specials. I taped a picture of him on my college dorm wall, next to David Letterman and Woody Allen. In 1994, I went to see Short’s movie “Clifford,” in which a 40-year-old Short plays the title’s sociopathic 10-year-old boy, who’s a sustained cyclone of terror. It sounds genius on paper — Short’s elfishness is manically elastic — but the execution is fatal. I should probably see it again. (Recently, I did. “Clifford” is still uproariously unfunny.) 

Short, a comic Einstein who’s allowed a flop or three, is getting late-career appreciation, working his tail off (now on “Only Murders in the Building”) and basking in the attention in the admiring Netflix doc “Marty, Life is Short.It’s shameless hagiography, and it’s bliss. It’s hard to believe little Marty Short is now 76, but he wears it with class, his exhibitionist spark undimmed, his contagious joy unbridled.

To tell Short’s story, director and longtime friend Lawrence Kasdan unspools a choice reel of home movies, outtakes, clips from “The Three Amigos” to “Father of the Bride” and a bevy of adoring tributes from pals and colleagues like Tom Hanks, Steve Martin, Eugene Levy and the late Catherine O’Hara. It gets personal, including romances (one with a young Gilda Radner), marriage, children and a series of crushing family tragedies that would eviscerate a less upbeat mortal. Despite it, Short remains a resilient life force, a one-man fireworks display, and perhaps the nicest guy in showbiz.

A few of Short’s characters: Jackie Rogers Jr., Ed Grimley and defensive tobacco CEO Nathan Thurm

Probably belting show tunes right out of the womb, this human whirligig is a quadruple threat — singer, dancer, actor, clown. His superpower is his thirst for applause, so he’s never not performing, prancing around his living room or hamming it up on late night. The show must go on, and on. His ammo isn’t written jokes but a volcanic gift of improv reminiscent of Robin Williams. Wind him up, let him rip. 

He’s the Lon Chaney of sketch comedy, inhabiting a freak’s gallery of invented characters, be it uber-nerd Ed Grimley, cross-eyed albino showman Jackie Rogers Jr. or blubbery celebrity antagonizer Jiminy Glick. One minute he’s earthbound, then, bang, he jolts into character. Being close to Short, says comic John Mulaney, is “like being your best friend in the world who happens to be the weirdest person ever.” That’s about the zestiest thing said about Short in the doc, which is of course a celebration, even if it sometimes feels like a career-capping coronation. His pals are gushers, understandably. It almost brings a tear to your eye. What, after all, is a little fawning among friends?

A writer’s journey from journalism to fiction to television

One of the best books I read last year was the pungent novel “Fleishman is in Trouble” by Taffy Brodesser-Akner. Studded with surgical social perceptions, mordant laughs and vibrating relevance, it’s dubbed a “timely exploration of marriage, divorce, and the bewildering dynamics of ambition.” If you’re married, or divorced, beware: It has teeth.

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I attended a recent discussion and Q&A with Brodesser-Akner, led by one of her editors at The New York Times Magazine and complemented by a full house of admiring readers. The discursive confab was funny, at times boisterous, always sharp.  

The author is well-known for her smart and sassy celebrity profiles in the NYT Magazine. Among her most famous, and infamous, subjects are Bradley Cooper, Tom Hanks and Gwyneth Paltrow. Some interviewees have not been taken by her resulting articles, but, as a one-time celebrity profiler, I had to applaud when she said that she couldn’t care less what her subjects think of what she’s written about them; she cares only what her editors and her readers think. Truth first, feelings second. Or even sixth. 

Brodesser-Akner’s novel — a smash bestseller, award-winner and named a best book of 2019 by numerous publications — is being turned into a TV series for FX that she is writing with utmost fidelity to the source, she says.

With a showy, dimply smile, big laugh and swift, expansive wit, Brodesser-Akner regaled some 100 fans, chatting about her book’s characters and motivations, responses to the novel, the jump from journalism to fiction, family, parenthood, marriage and TV writing.

Some snippets:

 — “I always just wanted to be a writer. I always wanted to make my money writing. I went to film school because I wanted to be a writer and that program had no math or science requirements, which fit my educational criteria. I fell into journalism when I found out after college that they didn’t just hire you to write screenplays. I looked in The New York Times, which used to have a robust jobs section, and there was a job there for a magazine called Soaps In Depth. And I got a job there. A year later, because of my tremendous productivity and my rapport with my subjects [she laughs], I was approached by a larger soap opera magazine.” [From there, she contracted with GQ and the Times.]

About writing personality and celebrity profiles: “You come in with the stakes being pretty low. Profiles have been so done to death that all you have to do is make sure they’re true, and then you can experiment with them. It’s like what they say about chefs and roast chicken: When chefs all get together they make for each other roast chicken, because that’s the thing you’re supposed to show from this place of plainness what you can do with it. And that’s how I think of profiles: the roast chicken of journalism.” 

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On midlife, a looming theme in the novel: “Midlife is pretty shocking. I did not know how confusing it would be at this particular age. It’s like a second adolescence. But at least when I was an adolescent I thought I knew what I was doing. Now I know enough to know that I don’t. And there’s the constant strains of contentment and being distraught being in line with each other. It’s the way I feel about the suburbs. I can walk down the block and think, ‘This is beautiful. Wait, what kind of person finds this beautiful?’ That’s middle-age for me.” 

About turning “Fleishman is in Trouble” into a nine-episode TV series: “I am writing it now, and it is very hard to write television. They want it very faithful to the book, at least for the first season. They talk about a second season because that’s all they can do. That’s all TV executives do. They’re sharks; they can only swim forward. They want it to mimic the book as much as possible, which sounds easy and it is not. What’s hard about it is if you think about what my specific skills are — when there is no story, I can still write a story. I came to prominence on a story about Nicki Minaj in which I went to interview her and she remained asleep for the duration. I wrote 6,000 words about it. It was a rollercoaster.”

On going from magazine to fiction writing: “Magazine to fiction writing was amazing. Because the book was like a profile — that’s how I kept it in my head, it’s just a long profile that I’m making up. The hardest part of it was, whereas I think I’m a decent observer of people, to make people up and then have to observe them is to kind of deny what is so amazing about people, which is that they always contradict themselves and they’re unpredictable. Whereas creating something is to make up a series of predictable things.” 

“When I decided to write (the novel), I had this gut feeling of: ‘Oh, this is the one.’”