I survived the great Chevy Chase Show debacle of 1993.
Members of the Television Critics Association, in Los Angeles for our semi-annual network television press tour, were shuttled to the home of the doomed talk show in advance of the premiere. It was not that much in advance as an ambitious makeover had not finished on what had once been a former Hollywood landmark, the Earl Carroll Theatre. Back in the late ’30s and throughout the ’40s, this was where it was declared that, “through these portals pass the most beautiful girls in the world.”
When critics walked through said portals, we were handed hard hats. These had to be hastilly ordered and distributed so as to not run afoul of the Los Angeles construction safety codes. I’ll never forget standing by the curb on Sunset Boulevard with another critic and overhearing a couple of Fox Network executives, hardhats in hand, saying, “Wait till Rupert (Murdoch) hears about what we spent on this.”
The talk show already had a stink on it. Chase did a semi-hilarious bit behind a barrage of microphones. It was going to be a different show, with the host playing piano at a keyboard by his desk (he did, and well), fish tanks on stage and other minor variations. The part about host talks to guests and hilarity ensues just seemed taken for granted.
At one point I joined a few other critics in an outdoor scrum with Chase, who noticed the tie I was wearing and started mocking the daylights out of it. Fair enough, it was a novelty tie and probably had cartoon characters on it. It was 1993 and, sadly, ironic ties were in vogue for a full ten minutes that season. For a moment, however, I got a taste of what it was like to be turned into a prop joke by Chase who had a reputation on occasion for random cruelty. My own discomfort aside, it made several of us wonder how this would play on a late night talk show.
It is a trait in full view on I’m Chevy Case and You’re Not, an unblinking, straight ahead examination of the now 82-year-old Saturday Night Live original Not Ready for Prime Time player. The documentary, directed by Mariana Zenovich, has been shown a few times over the past week or so on CNN.
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Much of the film finds Chase seated at a table, answering questions, some of which are rather pointed and direct. Like many comics his reflexive ability to turn anything into a joke is on display. Sometimes this makes him seem like a jerk; other times it shows flashes of the wit that first made him famous.
On the documentary, some of Chase’s famous friends give testimonials including a few Canadians: Dan Aykroyd, Ryan Reynolds and Martin Short. These guys improve any Hollywood biography (most notably the recent one profiling John Candy). They stand up for a friend, make you feel their colleague is worthy, but also can be counted on to be honest.
I had the good fortune, many years after The Chevy Chase Show flamed out after 29 excruciating episodes, to see another side of the comedian. I was one of many TCA members crammed into what once was the cool Tiki bar at the bow end of the Beverly Hills Hotel. A veteran publicist happened upon me in the semi dark and asked if I would like to talk to Chase. Not wearing a tie, I ran right over.
There I met the nicest person at the party. Chase saw that I was from Toronto and started reminiscing about one of the happiest times of his life, working as a camp counsellor in the heart of Ontario cottage country, Muskoka. This was just a few years before his instant, enormous success on SNL; Chase figured he was in his late twenties at the time.
“I was the head of the boy’s camp, and I had a girlfriend at the time who was the head of the girl scouts,” Chase told me. “And it worked out. I visited her when I could depending on where the eight foot Grizzlies were.”
This interview took place around 15 years ago and Chase was just starting his comeback run as towelette tycoon Pierce Hawthone on NBC’s Community. He had nothing but good things to say about that series creator and writer, Dan Harmon, and his young castmates, including Joel McHale, Allison Brie, Donald Glover and Yvette Nicole Brown.
“It’s a fun set,” he said, “but the hours are outrageous.” Things fell apart on the series after a season or two, as discussed on the documentary, with bickering Chase and Harmon both being fired by season four.
None of that seemed evident at the time of the interview. “I’m proud of the people I’m working with,” said Chase, who went on to say, “I don’t know if it’s worth watching. I’ve never watched a sitcom myself.’ Chase then spoke glowingly of life with his wife Jayni (featured on the doc) and their three daughters.
It was cool to hear Chase talk about his monthly card games with comedy heavyweights Johnny Carson, Carl Reiner. Steve Martin and Neil Simon. THAT should have been the format for his late night talk show.
We wound up talking about something my son Dan, just 17 at the time, had discovered on YouTube: Chase’s antics opposite Paul Simon in the video for “Call Me Al.”
“I learned it literally driving in from East Hampton to the studio,” Chase told me. “Made it for $30,000. We just gave Paul all the big drums. One of my favourite things I’ve ever done.”
My nine minutes and 12 seconds were up. Watch I’m Chevy Chase and You’re Not on CNN on demand, both sides of the man are on full display.
I did encounter Chase one more time a year or two later when, on another LA-based TCA press tour, critics were shuttled to the Paramount Studios lot and the set of Community. There Glover got into some “West Side Story” stle dance highjinks with Ken Jeong; you can see a short video I shot of that encounter here.
