Apple TV debuted their two-part documentary on Steve Martin last week. For anyone interested in the creative mind, it’s a must watch.
The first half of Steve! is like a movie version of his book, Born Standing Up, which is a must-read for anyone interested in stand-up.
The second half was about his life in movies and a peek into his daily life now (rather, when the documentary was made, in the thick of the pandemic). I appreciated his introspection and honesty in the second half. An intensely private person, he mentioned how uncomfortable he was during a lot of the shooting.
Here are my top takeaways from both halves:
The power of dogged persistence. Very few people liked Steve’s act in the beginning. There were some in the industry who saw what he was doing, like the Smothers Brothers and other insiders. Aside from them, he had to beg and fight and hustle to get seen for years, and when he was seen, very few people laughed. In spite of this feedback, he didn’t change his act. He believed in it. He just kept doing it and getting more confident.
The power of confidence. Eventually, people caught up with him. His over-the-top confidence on stage is what made his act work.
The power of the Funny Filters. Like all good stand-up comedians, Steve used the Funny Filters in his jokes. But he went a step further, using them as framing devices as well. His entire act was a metahumor parody of comedy and show-biz. Funny Filters on top of Funny Filters is a good recipe for big laughs. He was wise to believe in what he was doing.
A comic persona that’s different from a genuine persona. Most comedy professionals would advise a stand-up simply exaggerate something about their own personality in order to find their comic persona. Steve went with a manufactured character. His inauthenticity is part of what made his act work.
Fame hasn’t changed that much. People often point out that being famous in the 1970s was different compared to today. With only three TV networks and no Internet, a show like Tony Orlando and Dawn got more viewers every week than the super bowl gets now. Therefore, the famous were more famous then.
This is only partly true. The kind of household-name fame Steve, Robin Williams, Burt Reynolds, Cher, Chevy Chase, Farrah Faucet, John Belushi, Barbara Streisand and so many others enjoyed in the 70s is no different than what Taylor Swift, Oprah, the Rock, Trump, Arnold, and so many others enjoy today. The only difference is that their names are shorter and easier to remember.
Today, more people can be famous in a specific niche. You can have millions of fans in your niche and still not be a household name. In the 70s, the only way to be famous was to be a household name in every house.
An artist’s isolation and loneliness. At their core, artists are people who, for whatever reason, are wired differently. They don’t communicate their thoughts and feelings about the world in the same way regular people do. They don’t make close connections, gossip, or do all that regular-people stuff. They paint, write, or perform.
Steve considers himself an artist, which is fair. Some would say he’s more of an entertainer. He certainly blurred the line between the two. He wanted audiences to like him, but not by being a hack. He wanted to be different, and he wasn’t immediately accepted for being different.
Being different means you might not connect with normies. So, he felt alone. He expressed this loneliness beautifully in The Lonely Guy, one of his best movies.
The right way to handle your kid when you’re famous. I appreciated how Steve mentioned his daughter in the second half, but refused to show her on camera. Too many famous people try to make their kids famous, use them as props, display them, or write books about them, and that’s a recipe for disaster. Kids and fame don’t mix, and Steve knows that.
What were your takeaways?
I loved him from the beginning and saw him in concert around 1979 in a packed Rupp Arena. What I appreciated most about the first part of the documentary was his intellectual approach. I didn’t realize he majored in philosophy. And overcoming emotional cruelty from his father made me even happier that he achieved the success he achieved.
I watched the first half and am halfway through the second. What I appreciate most, besides what you mentioned, Scott, is the willingness of Steve to show the painful interactions with his father, who seemed to undermine him at every turn. It added unusual depth to his struggle. Taken at a larger scale, it was a perfect illustration of humanity’s need to self-soothe in the face of monumental challenges, and what better way to do it than to laugh? I see some self-parody in Steve’s humor, and have always loved him for it.