Amy Schumer did the NYT Book Review podcast the other day. Schumer, of all people! Her book, "The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo" (enviable title), has just come out in paperback. As is often the case, Schumer, in her podcast, was full of surprises. The book grew out of her journals, which she kept throughout her parents' divorce, because of a sensation of "uncontrollable pain." Her mother was having an affair with the parent of her--Amy's--best friend. Her father had just discovered he was--and would continue to be--the host of a debilitating disease. The family had just lost all of its money. To cope, Schumer began keeping the journals--and later discovered, or reminded herself, that they were packed with rich material. (Another surprise, which shouldn't be a surprise: Schumer is addicted to work. Her comedy persona is clueless, entitled, pampered--but of course that's not who Schumer is. Schumer decided pretty early that she wanted to perform, noted that women weren't talking about their sex lives as freely as men, and then ran with that idea. She had always taken pleasure in soldiering through back-breaking, mind-numbing day jobs--double shifts, low pay--and so she found a certain masochistic glee in having herself slaughtered before crowds every night. "I wanted to perform; I didn't have an interest in being famous." It seems to me that the difference between stars and standard folks is that stars have a drive to "self-mythologize"; they are interested in writing their own stories, on a grand scale, while most people are happy to take the script that their jobs, and their families, hand to them. Schumer has retained several friends in Long Island, and when they accost her for having left her hometown, she asks, "Why didn't you do the same? I thought we all were getting out of here.")
Schumer loves writing, and will slip into an hours-long marathon of obliviousness, in front of a typewriter, whenever possible. She has a special interest in David Sedaris, and looks forward to picking up his journals (which, apparently, start strong and then eventually, simply, become a way for Sedaris to rehearse some of his most famous material). Schumer intends to write another book, or several (who knew?), and she expresses surprise that people wanted to hear about subjects other than her personal life. (To me, the stand-out moments in "Lower Back Tattoo," which I read a full year ago, were Schumer's bits of narration of her rise to comedy stardom. I enjoy hearing artists talk about their approach to work. That said, I thought the wrenching, naked account of Schumer's rapport with her complicated father was also a very fine piece of writing.) Another memorable moment from the NYT interview: Schumer compares early stand-up routines to "lab experiments." She says you go in front of a small crowd, and the act is like titrating a solution; you study, almost clinically, the ways in which people respond to specific turns of phrase and specific jokes. (Schumer then mocks herself for the titration metaphor.) There aren't any shocks in a big arena performance--Schumer says--because, by that point, you've auditioned each joke in front of thousands and thousands of people. You aren't leaving anything to chance. (Schumer reminds me a bit of Anna Kendrick--another star who had few, if any, early signs that her own path was pointing her toward stardom. Both are avid readers. Schumer enjoys James Michener and the Elena Ferrante novels. Anna Kendrick might be spotted with "The Shining" or "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.")
I thought I'd call everyone's attention back to Schumer's Golden Age (which may be the first of a few Golden Ages for her; we'll have to see). In the heyday of "Inside Amy Schumer," a favorite trick was to narrate minor first-world white-girl problems as if they were catastrophes. So: A Herpes scare that is treated as a second Holocaust. A long transcontinental flight in which only Kevin James movies are available for viewing. In "Sext Photographer," the idea is that privileged white girls can actually pay a fee to a professional sext specialist--the wonderfully bitchy Jenny Slate acolyte, Gabe Liedman, playing "Danny P." Satire grows out of Schumer's cluelessness; we first see her earnestly singing to herself, "SOMEBODY'S REALLY PRETTY TODAY! SOMEBODY'S REALLY PRETTY TODAY!" as she clips her nails. She's so star-struck by Danny P, she seems not to notice when he refers to her pubic hair as "the Hasidic rabbi in your underpants," when he loudly assumes that she is in Spanx, when he condescendingly lies to her about the projected length of the photo shoot. Danny P is a man paid to pretend that a bad situation is good--and he's so tired and cocky that he has let the mask drop perhaps a bit too much. The danse macabre between these two loonies continues until, of course, a cow drops from the sky: Schumer gets the photo she wants (having pretended spiders were in her hair), sends it off to her paramour ("Where are dem booooooobz?"), and discovers that he actually no longer remembers who she is. And: End of Scene.
Schumer is a gift to the world because she encourages well-off, self-absorbed people to examine--more closely--their own behavior. You can't put a price on that. Also, if you haven't, check out Gabe Liedman's "Bestie by Bestie" with Jenny Slate--particularly the canonical early episode, "What's Wrong with Books?" And see Slate in "Landline," which isn't perfect, sure, but which is weirdly under-rated. I'm in awe of these three. And now off to work!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQMMOvD1Bp8
Schumer loves writing, and will slip into an hours-long marathon of obliviousness, in front of a typewriter, whenever possible. She has a special interest in David Sedaris, and looks forward to picking up his journals (which, apparently, start strong and then eventually, simply, become a way for Sedaris to rehearse some of his most famous material). Schumer intends to write another book, or several (who knew?), and she expresses surprise that people wanted to hear about subjects other than her personal life. (To me, the stand-out moments in "Lower Back Tattoo," which I read a full year ago, were Schumer's bits of narration of her rise to comedy stardom. I enjoy hearing artists talk about their approach to work. That said, I thought the wrenching, naked account of Schumer's rapport with her complicated father was also a very fine piece of writing.) Another memorable moment from the NYT interview: Schumer compares early stand-up routines to "lab experiments." She says you go in front of a small crowd, and the act is like titrating a solution; you study, almost clinically, the ways in which people respond to specific turns of phrase and specific jokes. (Schumer then mocks herself for the titration metaphor.) There aren't any shocks in a big arena performance--Schumer says--because, by that point, you've auditioned each joke in front of thousands and thousands of people. You aren't leaving anything to chance. (Schumer reminds me a bit of Anna Kendrick--another star who had few, if any, early signs that her own path was pointing her toward stardom. Both are avid readers. Schumer enjoys James Michener and the Elena Ferrante novels. Anna Kendrick might be spotted with "The Shining" or "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.")
I thought I'd call everyone's attention back to Schumer's Golden Age (which may be the first of a few Golden Ages for her; we'll have to see). In the heyday of "Inside Amy Schumer," a favorite trick was to narrate minor first-world white-girl problems as if they were catastrophes. So: A Herpes scare that is treated as a second Holocaust. A long transcontinental flight in which only Kevin James movies are available for viewing. In "Sext Photographer," the idea is that privileged white girls can actually pay a fee to a professional sext specialist--the wonderfully bitchy Jenny Slate acolyte, Gabe Liedman, playing "Danny P." Satire grows out of Schumer's cluelessness; we first see her earnestly singing to herself, "SOMEBODY'S REALLY PRETTY TODAY! SOMEBODY'S REALLY PRETTY TODAY!" as she clips her nails. She's so star-struck by Danny P, she seems not to notice when he refers to her pubic hair as "the Hasidic rabbi in your underpants," when he loudly assumes that she is in Spanx, when he condescendingly lies to her about the projected length of the photo shoot. Danny P is a man paid to pretend that a bad situation is good--and he's so tired and cocky that he has let the mask drop perhaps a bit too much. The danse macabre between these two loonies continues until, of course, a cow drops from the sky: Schumer gets the photo she wants (having pretended spiders were in her hair), sends it off to her paramour ("Where are dem booooooobz?"), and discovers that he actually no longer remembers who she is. And: End of Scene.
Schumer is a gift to the world because she encourages well-off, self-absorbed people to examine--more closely--their own behavior. You can't put a price on that. Also, if you haven't, check out Gabe Liedman's "Bestie by Bestie" with Jenny Slate--particularly the canonical early episode, "What's Wrong with Books?" And see Slate in "Landline," which isn't perfect, sure, but which is weirdly under-rated. I'm in awe of these three. And now off to work!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQMMOvD1Bp8
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