Poor Richard

 There was a time, back in a previous century, when Hollywood was handing out sitcoms to any standup comedian who had a solid ten minutes and did not want to be on Saturday Night Live. Come to think of it, if memory serves me right, there was a time during which no one wanted to be on Saturday Night Live. 

But in the late eighties, it became something of a goal for the standup set to find their way to a three-camera taped in front of a live audience half hour showcase for their talents. Some of these succeeded far beyond expectations. The gold standard being Seinfeld, which told the story of a young comedian named Jerry Seinfeld and all the wacky situations a young comedian might encounter. Like the time he and his buddy decided to pitch a sitcom to NBC about the adventures of a young comedian who...

Well, you get the idea. In spite of this lazy brilliance, there were a lot of misfires. Not everyone remembers that Ellen DeGeneres had a sitcom before she started being everyone's happy talk host. And if you do remember the cleverly titled "Ellen," you probably remember the TV milestone she and her producers generated when they decided to have the character of Ellen come out to a prime time audience. But you may have pushed the fact that this was a somewhat desperate attempt to attract viewers to a show that was floundering in the ratings. That shining moment could not keep the show from collapsing under its own weight one season later. 

From the ash heap of this period, from the rubble of Brett Butler, Jeff Foxworthy and Robin Williams, I pull the discarded remnant of pop culture known as Anything But Love. The draw here was not the standup, but rather the star of all those slasher films from earlier in the decade, Jamie Lee Curtis. Her romantic interest was Marty Gold, played by the intensely neurotic Richard Lewis. For me, Richard was the draw. Having watched Richard come of age during regular appearances on David Letterman's show, I was a fan. Richard was definitely an acquired taste, with his nearly constant fidgeting and fits of anxiety that flirted with the edges of pain. The pain that he turned outward from inside. All the hypochondria, the social fears, the threat of failure. That was appointment television for me. 

Jamie Lee Curtis would eventually win an Oscar. No Oscar for Richard. No Emmy either. But he did land a plum role on his pal Larry David's show Curb Your Enthusiasm. He played an older comedian who was friends with the guy upon whom the character of George on Seinfeld was based. He was a natural. 

Richard went to that big open mic in the sky last week. While he was here he trembled and shook and kvetched on the Terra, and he will be missed. Aloha, Richard, see you in my fever dreams.