Sick in the Head: Conversations About Life and Comedy (44 page)

Roseanne:
I know exactly how it works. You just talk on the phone and they’re living in a world that doesn’t exist like you do. I just always tried to stay in as much as I possibly could. It was really hard because, you know—you don’t want to work, but you don’t know when you’re going to get your next job.

Judd:
It could all end tomorrow.

Roseanne:
And everybody’s like, “You’re fucking rich,” but they don’t get it. They don’t get that you have to fucking
do
it. It’s not about if you’re rich or not. Because it’s what you love. You have to do it because that’s the only thing you know how to do.

Judd:
And it keeps you sane, but it also creates all—

Roseanne:
All the problems. But then it’s so worth it when you’re getting those laughs. It’s like,
This is what I do, what I love. It’s the whole fucking reason I’m alive.

Judd:
Was it possible to have balance when you were doing the TV show?

Roseanne:
No.

Judd:
So when you were working, you were so split off—you focused on the work so intensely that you couldn’t be present in the other parts of your life?

Roseanne:
Correct.

Judd:
It’s funny because I used to scream at everybody at the beginning of my career. I’d get really emotional. I’d project all my issues about my parents and safety onto the executives so every conversation where they gave a note was life or death and they tried to destroy me.
You don’t love me. You don’t get me.
And so it was really hard. It took me a very, a very long time to understand that I need to find people that understand, who like what I do, who get what I do. I need to find people who I respect so I can respect them, and they’ll like being respected so they’ll respect me and that’s like a marriage. But early in my career, you’d get bad notes from someone who didn’t appreciate what you were doing, and you would resist them. I would fight and we would always get canceled. But you had a different situation because your show was so successful that that battle of wills never ended—or was it resolved in some way?

Roseanne:
Once the show was number one, it was like, “Don’t ever come down here again, motherfuckers. Don’t fucking come down here.” I felt shut down when they’d come and stand there. I’d be like, “Nobody with a suit is allowed on this stage.” They’re just judging and you feel the weight of them. They’re looking for a flaw. They’re waiting to hurt you.

Judd:
How much of that, in retrospect, was bad management or treating talent like a piece of meat or a commodity?

Roseanne:
It was treating talent with contempt—and it wasn’t just me. It was just the way it was then. I’m glad to see people are taking more control of their product these days, but back then it was like, whoa, they just, they didn’t respect talent. They had to humiliate and belittle people who had talent.

Judd:
That’s how they controlled things.

Roseanne:
It’s a pimp mentality.

Judd:
How did you take control of your show?

Roseanne:
I’d be standing there during the filming, crying. I got a woman manager after every fucking guy would say the same shit: “Shut up and take it, you’re getting paid.” So I got, like, Diane Keaton’s manager, and she was very well connected with Freddie Field and people like that, so she had power. And she was like, “Your star is in tears on this comedy. Do you even notice that
at all
?” She hooked me up with the lawyer Barry Hirsch. And I told him, “I’ve got to get off. I’m going to die. I’ve got to quit.” There was one big day on set where I was sitting on the bed and the director and the producer were like, “Say the line as written.” And I was like, “I’m not going to say the line as written,” because Barry Hirsch had told me you can say, “I’d like a new line, please.” It’s a Guild thing. They were like, “You’re not going to get it.” But then their lawyers would tell them, “You can’t force somebody to say a line.” So Barry gave me the language to say, “I’d like a line change, please.” And it ended up they made me do it for six hours, and then they came back with some legal shit on the loudspeaker with the cameras on. And then that shit gets back to the network and they’re like, “Look what a pain in the ass she is. She needs to go.” So they asked all the cast if they’d do the show without me, and John Goodman said no. If he had said yes like a lot of other fucking people in show business, I would have been off there in a heartbeat. And I was like,
Fuck that. I made it for
this?
All this way to have my fucking act stolen and be beaten down and disrespected?

Judd:
And then it aired and the ratings were—

Roseanne:
Number one. It premiered at number three, and then it took
Cosby.
I think it was because I had done
The Tonight Show
and I had done so well there and people wanted to see it. It went to three first and then it took
Cosby
and then that was it.

Judd:
Then you had the moment where you’re like, “Okay, now here’s how we’re going to do it.”

Roseanne:
It was that voice that I always have with me. I said, “Either he goes…,” and they knew. So they go, “Well, he’ll go, but he’s not going until [episode] thirteen.” So that was seven more or something. And I’m like,
Oh, how am I going to fucking make it through that?
And it was tough, but that voice came in and it’s like,
Make a list of everybody who you’re going to fire the minute that you’re at fourteen.
So I did. I hung it on my door. I still have it. I said, “These people will not be here next year,” and it was big so whoever walked by would see it. And they were all gone the next year, including the network president. So it was sheer will and hate and bitterness. And because it was about my kids, and I looked at it like a mom looks at it, you know. It was a fight. My husband at the time told me, “Shut up and take it. You’re never going to get this chance again. Shut your fucking mouth and just do it.” And I’m like, the only other person I knew then were comics and Tom Arnold, you know. And Tom was like, “Fuck them.” I wanted to hear that. So I ended up getting with him and everything. I unleashed him.

Judd:
How do you look back at that time—because, creatively, those first Tom years were really strong.

Roseanne:
I think we had three really good years before that, too.

Judd:
He came on at the end of season four?

Roseanne:
The end of season three. And everyone hated him so he didn’t—it was like season four that we got the comics on instead of TV writers. I always wanted that. I loved funny people over story people. It was about the jokes and I like jokes. Jokes were the only reason we were ever on that long.

Judd:
How many good Tom years were there?

Roseanne:
Zero good years.

Judd:
Was it just batshit crazy the whole time?

Roseanne:
A living hell. Unfuckingbelievable living hell. Like I didn’t have enough troubles? Now I’ve got a drug addict running around my fucking house? You know, then I’m getting a divorce and kids are in my house. Just not fucking good at all. But at work, it was fun. Because it was like, I want this, let’s try this, let’s try that. It was like, Let’s fucking take this down. I want gays on the air. I wanted a teenage girl who was negative like I was.

Judd:
What are the parts of the show that you look back at with the most pride?

Roseanne:
From the first battle, it seemed like—I felt like Wonder Woman battling back the Nazis or whatever, it was kind of like that. It was Halloween and they wouldn’t let me do a show on Halloween. Because they said the Bible Belt doesn’t like Halloween; they think it’s witches and shit. So I’m like, “Well, then I’m a witch. And I want Halloween.” I just, I couldn’t stand people saying what the fuck I could do. The next thing was an unemployed husband. They didn’t like that, either. They didn’t like smart-mouthed Darlene. They didn’t like Darlene. And you know, so Darlene was a big one for me because I’m Darlene. I was Darlene! That’s who I was, you know.

Judd:
Did you feel like it was an honest depiction of working-class America?

Roseanne:
I liked that it was like, This shit sucks. That was real to me. And also, I wanted to show a different kind of love that wasn’t that phony bullshit love. It was love through bad things. I was on a fucking mission for sure. I felt like the Messiah and Wonder Woman all rolled up into one. I felt like Robin Hood. I felt like Jesus. Plus, I had a killer cast that could make anything. I had great writers. Christ, I’ll never get that again. It was like the real golden age, another golden age of television. Today they want no part of anything having to do with class on TV. No part.

Judd:
Why do you think that is?

Roseanne:
Because it’s too true.

Judd:
I think the paradox of being a comedian is you become a comedian because, on some level, you’re so insecure that you need people’s approval. And then you put yourself in a position where you can get an enormous amount of disapproval but it’s worth the risk because—

Roseanne:
The damn indignity.

Judd:
I’m going to risk making a movie and maybe the world will tell me they hate me. Like, I want some love but I might get some hate. And there are certain people who are like totally fine with that. But there’s craziness in it, too.

Roseanne:
Well, I think you’ve got to get like that.

Judd:
Is that healthy or is it also detached in some way?

Roseanne:
All of it is just too hard. But when you’re doing it—I remember I asked my rabbi that once. I said, “Does this shit ever stop? You know, the crazy?” And he said, “It stops when you’re doing it.” And I thought,
Well, Christ, isn’t that right?

Martin Scorsese’s
The King of Comedy
came out when I was fifteen, in early 1983, and it quickly became a formative movie of my childhood—and my adulthood, too, for that matter. As a kid, I was so fascinated by the stories about the making of it, especially the ones about how this young unknown woman, Sandra Bernhard, had improvised the majority of her part and, in doing so, put the great Jerry Lewis in many situations and moments that he had not been in before. That blew my mind. I interviewed Sandra not long after the movie came out, when she was on the cusp of a new, more mainstream kind of stardom. I had seen her on
Letterman
—she was a regular guest in the early eighties—and her appearances were always electric and surprising and, in terms of comedic personality, groundbreaking. There was never anyone like Sandra then, and now that I think about it, there’s never been anyone like her since.

Judd Apatow:
Okay, here we go. So how has your life changed since
The King of Comedy
?

Sandra Bernhard:
In my career? Well, probably the most important thing that has changed is that I can get interviews for things. People are interested in finding other films for me.

Judd:
Is that what you’ve been doing, reading scripts?

Sandra:
Yeah, reading scripts and developing things of my own.

Judd:
And now you’re getting stand-up jobs everywhere?

Sandra:
Yeah, but I’m not going to be doing comedy clubs anymore. I’m doing more musically, developing my act more as a whole package, as opposed to just comedy.

Judd:
Do you get recognized on the street?

Sandra:
A lot. I’ve always been looked at because I have one of those kinds of faces—people think they know me. But now, it’s like they do. So it’s kind of neat.

Judd:
What do they say?

Sandra:
Oh, well, most people are just incredibly supportive, and say, “God, I loved you in the film, it was a wonderful performance.” You know, lots of good.

Judd:
How did you get that part?

Sandra:
I auditioned for it out in L.A., along with lots of other actresses. And then I met De Niro and Scorsese over a period of two months.

Judd:
Were they intimidating?

Sandra:
No, because I really wasn’t that into their films at the time. I walked in just sort of, “Oh, hi.” Real casual.

Judd:
How about Jerry Lewis?

Sandra:
He was more intimidating than they were.

Judd:
What do you think about him? I mean he used to be such a crazy young guy, and now he’s, like, an old man.

Sandra:
He’s a crazy old man. He’s not that old, first of all. I mean, he’s pretty much the same. People don’t really ever change that much, you know. They slow down a little bit. But he’s still totally crazy.

Judd:
And did they let you improvise on this movie?

Sandra:
Most of my part was improvised.

Judd:
Like whole scenes?

Sandra:
Yeah. A lot of what I did in the movie I improvised before I went on my auditions.

Judd:
Didn’t they cut a lot of stuff you did?

Sandra:
No. People think that, you know. There were just different takes. I mean, I did like the same take only different improvisation. It was a matter of which improv Marty preferred.

Judd:
So what do you think about your character?

Sandra:
I think she’s somebody that, at the time, I could relate to, and was very close to who I was emotionally. I was very needy and I wanted things to happen in my career that weren’t happening. I was alienated and lonely and all those things that she felt. So she was easily understood. I mean, now that it’s changed my life, I don’t feel so close to that character, and I don’t think I should. I don’t think it would be a healthy way to relate to people.

Judd:
When you saw the film, what did you think?

Sandra:
I was pleased. I was especially pleased with my part.

Judd:
Yeah, you got great reviews. They said you carried the film.

Sandra:
To a certain degree, I guess I did. I certainly interjected a lot of excitement and energy into it. Which it needed, I think.

Judd:
So what was your childhood—

Sandra:
Typical and not typical. I was raised half in Michigan and half in Arizona. I was born in Michigan, in a middle-class, upper-middle-class, Jewish family. My father’s a doctor, and my mother’s a nurse. Three older brothers. The thing that made a difference is that I was the youngest, and the only girl. I think I got a different perspective on life than most people do, because, you know—I had to hold my own in a family of men.

Judd:
You had to be tough.

Sandra:
Not tough, just learn how to get attention.

Judd:
Through being funny?

Sandra:
Yeah, I was always funny. And pretty intense.

Judd:
Popular?

Sandra:
No, not really. I mean I had a lot of friends but I never thought of myself as popular because, I mean, I was always kind of thin and, you know, different. I felt more self-conscious.

Judd:
So who did you idolize as a kid?

Sandra:
Carol Channing. I saw her in
Hello, Dolly!
when I was eight years old.

Judd:
Any other comedians?

Sandra:
No, not really. I mean there were comic actors and actresses, you know. A woman had a show called
Pete and Gladys
that was on for a little while—and do you know Cara Williams? She’s great. It was a great show. But it was only on for a little while.

Judd:
When did you decide you were gonna be a comic? High school?

Sandra:
I never made the choice to become a
comic.
I always wanted to become a singer and an actress. And I just made some friends in L.A. who thought I should be in comedy, because it’s more accessible for a woman. Harder, but you get more attention. And I had a flair for comedy, but really, my first year in L.A. is when I started doing it.

Judd:
And what was your first comedy stage like?

Sandra:
It was pretty good. I was confident because I didn’t know what to expect. I just watched other people, so I sort of imitated—

Judd:
Where did you do that?

Sandra:
At a place called the Ye Little Club.

Judd:
How long did it take you to get confident as a performer, comfortable onstage?

Sandra:
I’m still doing that. It’s an endless process. I mean, you get more and more confident. Especially when I got the movie. That set me off.

Judd:
How would you describe your act onstage? Because you seem very different, from—I mean, I saw you and you seem like a different person onstage.

Sandra:
Well, you have to be. You have to have some sort of a persona onstage to get your point across. And you’re not gonna just walk up there casual, like you’re carrying on a conversation and, you know, be entertaining at the same time. That’s a part of me, that character I use onstage. It’s a part of who I am. But you just can’t do that all the time without burning yourself out.

Judd:
So how have you handled everything? Fame?

Sandra:
Quite well. It hasn’t radically changed—I mean, I didn’t make a lot of money. If I made a lot of money, if I was rich right now, it might have changed my life a little bit more. But I’m pretty much in the same financial position. I’m okay, but—you know.

Judd:
Do you think you’re gonna be a superstar one day?

Sandra:
Well, I think I’ll be—I think I’ll be pretty out there. I don’t know if there’s anybody that’s a superstar anymore. That’s sort of a thing of the past.

Judd:
So what would success mean for you, then?

Sandra:
Working a lot. Doing good work. Having people respect me. Being recognized by the public and having power to do what I want to do.

Judd:
And if you could do anything what would it be?

Sandra:
A lot of films, more money. Interesting films.

Judd:
Serious films?

Sandra:
Serious and comedy both.

Judd:
Say Eddie Murphy gets fifteen million to do whatever he wants. You would like something like that, I guess?

Sandra:
Well, I don’t think I need fifteen million dollars—

Judd:
Creative control over your work, then?

Sandra:
Yeah, I want creative control. I’m not looking to make a billion dollars. I want to be comfortable, but I’m not starving for that kind of—
that’s egotistical to me, and bullshit. And they don’t do that with women, they only do that with men.

Judd:
Why do you think that is?

Sandra:
Because men control the business, men are in power, and men want to keep men in power.

Judd:
How long did it take you to get relaxed onstage, so that you could just interact with the audience?

Sandra:
I did that almost from the start. I was never really comfortable doing it, and I wasn’t sure what I was gonna say, but I did it anyway. That’s how I wanted to relate as a performer. I never wanted that wall up, you know. I didn’t want to just tell jokes. But I wanted to relate to people so I was willing to take that risk of getting a bad reaction.

Judd:
Did you ever get a bad reaction?

Sandra:
Sure. A lot. I still do. Kind of a general thing in the audience. Audiences can turn real vicious sometimes. You know, collectively. Audiences are not to be trusted until you’re about halfway through the show. They can turn on you. They’re very—people are weird, they’re like wild animals.

Judd:
And that happens to you even now?

Sandra:
Once in a while, there’ll be a smattering of people who’ll come—it’s happened a couple of times at Carolines. Some people came in. And there was just—they wanted to start problems with me. They really didn’t know who I was and they came anyway, so they just talked, and I said, “What the fuck are you doing here?” You know what I mean? “People are here to have a good time, I’m here to entertain them. These people know who I am, they respect my work—and if you don’t know what I’m doing, and you don’t like it, then get the fuck out.”

Judd:
And you just say that to them?

Sandra:
That and a lot of other things. I’ll ride their asses all night, because they don’t shut up. They just keep going and I just keep going right along with them. Something interesting always comes out of it.

Judd:
What would you consider your worst moment onstage?

Sandra:
My worst moments are when my energy is low. When I’m really tired, and my energy is bad, then I’m vulnerable.

Judd:
Do you think there’s anything that a comedian
shouldn’t
do?

Sandra:
I don’t know. I have a lot of opinions on that. I guess—I guess, you know, it depends on the person. You can’t generalize.

Judd:
You don’t think there’s anything that’s off-limits? I mean, I’ve seen some pretty crude stuff.

Sandra:
See, I have a lot of opinions on comedy. If you get me started on that, then I’ll say my opinions, and I’m gonna regret it.

Judd:
You’re gonna say something that you’re gonna regret?

Sandra:
Yeah, because I don’t think that there are very many people that should be doing comedy. Because I don’t think most of them have a point of view or an attitude or a conviction.

Judd:
Do you think comedians should make a statement, like a political or social kind of—

Sandra:
I think if you’re really good, you do that without trying to. You invoke emotions from an audience without being obvious about it. But the art of being a great performer is almost a dead thing. There are very few people who dedicate their lives to being a real artist and to the artistry of performing. Because there’s a whole—it’s not just standing up there. It’s a movement and it’s a tone of voice and it’s a seduction and it’s a school of thought. The old entertainers, they knew everything. They knew how to dance, and they knew how to sing. They
studied
it. And it’s not something you just get away with being—um, you know—that’s one thing I’ll say about Robin Williams, even though I get tired of his comedies. He’s an artist and he knows his craft. So does Richard Pryor. Richard Pryor knows movement.

Judd:
I was reading somewhere that there’s a Steve Allen book and it said that he didn’t think that the old comedians could stand up to anybody from today. I guess he’s talking about Henny Youngman and, I don’t
know, maybe Jackie Gleason, all of those old comedians doing stuff they did like in the Catskills in the forties. He said that they wouldn’t stand up to anybody today.

Sandra:
I don’t know about that. I think times are different. And like I said, in those days, comedy wasn’t something you just got into because it looked accessible, and easy, and you could make some fast money. I mean, those people were
raised
with that feeling. That need to entertain. I think you really have to be driven by something to be a good entertainer.

Judd:
Is there anyone right now that you just like—is there anybody you look at and say, “I wish I could be that good”?

Sandra:
I think people think that about me right now.