Growing Up Laughing_ My Story and the Story of Funny - Marlo Thomas [25]
Orson’s drama also had a musical side to it. One night I was with my boyfriend and it was late. We were in the den on the comfy sofa, doing what teenagers do—lights low, music softly playing. Suddenly a John Philip Sousa march blasted through the speakers. Nothing kills the mood like Sousa. Orson’s message to my date was clear: “March!”
As if my father’s late-night deejaying wasn’t anecdotal enough for my date, my lunatic family had one more surprise. When we turned on the lights, there was Terre, crouched, hiding under the pool table with our cocker spaniel, Muggins, spying on us to see what the big kids do.
“Who’s she?” my date asked, as he frantically looked for his jacket.
“I’m her sister,” Terre snapped, “and you have no idea how hard it is to lie there keeping this dog quiet, with his awful dog breath in my face!”
Another boy who never called me again.
Chapter 14
Testifying with Chris Rock
With all the breakthroughs in television, seven words are still verboten on the networks—and Chris Rock says most of them in his cable specials. My dad’s generation called this “working blue,” and Chris has clearly made that his color palette. Although I had seen all of his specials, I decided to watch them again, back to back, before sitting down to talk with him. The one thing that stood out far stronger than the forbidden language was his preacher-like message: Be responsible for your kids. Don’t cheat. Pay attention to what your government is doing. Get a job. Stay in school. Treat women with respect. It’s all there, woven in with the outrageous language and his larger-than-life energy. When I told Chris that I thought he was really a preacher at heart, his answer surprised me. “My grandfather and great-grandfather were preachers,” he said. I guess it’s not just comedy that’s in our DNA.
—M.T.
Marlo: To be a successful nightclub comic, you have to have a lot of energy. But you have more energy than almost anyone I’ve ever seen. Most guys stay pretty close to the mike. You pace wildly back and forth, stalking the audience like a caged tiger. Why is that? What is that?
Chris: Basically I’m trying to be a good director.
Marlo: Meaning?
Chris: Meaning, if you’re standing in one place, a person can turn away from you to say something to their friend, and then when they turn back you’re right where they left you. But if you’re walking around, they can’t say anything to their friend. They have to pay attention.
Marlo: That’s really interesting.
Chris: Yeah. I think [Eddie] Murphy was the one who told me that.
Marlo: And when you stop, we really pay attention.
Chris: Right. You stop on the punch line—and pow! It’s walk-walk, plant, deliver punch line.
Marlo: Have you always moved back and forth like that?
Chris: You know, it’s one of those things that, once I figured it out, it catapulted me. You learn a lot doing stand-up. First, you think it’s all just about jokes. “All I need is jokes. If I have the best ones, this will work.” Then if you’re in it long enough, you realize that the guys who are actually the best performers go the furthest.
Marlo: And the guys with the best jokes?
Chris: They write for other people.
Marlo: Right.
Chris: So, you watch. And you get passed by some guys, and you learn from them. My friend Paul always says, “Competition keeps you in condition.”
Marlo: That’s right.
Chris: I remember before I cracked, I went to see Martin Lawrence at Radio City. And, you know, that was something—seeing somebody at Radio City who’s your age, who started the same time as you, and he’s playing in front of six thousand people while you’re still playing in front of three hundred. You can be bitter and think there’s some conspiracy against you, or you can sit there and learn.
Marlo: You’re often compared to Eddie Murphy and Richard Pryor. That’s a tough standard to live up to.
Chris: But those guys are better performers than me. They really are. They’ve got these great voices, great characters, and then they put jokes around those characters,