The other day here, we linked to a video of The Danny Kaye Show from 1964. Every time I see one of these, I marvel at how talented that man was…and how we don't have that kind of variety show these days because we really don't have that kind of performer. Name me someone prominent of the current generation who could do a monologue, play characters in a sketch, sing a duet with some vocalist guest star and then perform a dance number with the chorus.
I'm not saying there's no one but certainly no one springs instantly to my mind. Most likely if such a person exists, they're known for only one of those skills — the one that brought them their fame — and to our surprise, they could actually handle the others. And they wouldn't even have to be that proficient in all those talents. Garry Moore, seen below, sure wasn't. But he could do a little of each and he had great connectivity as a host (the ability to connect with an audience) and he was apparently and happily deficient in Performers' Ego, meaning that he didn't mind if someone else on his show grabbed the spotlight. That's how Carol Burnett happened. Moore happily allowed a supporting player to outshine him.
True, the world and tastes in television have changed…but so has the talent pool. I was a writer on a batch of variety pilots and specials in the seventies and eighties, none of which starred someone who should really have been doing that. One critic, decrying the network's choice of star, had asked why they weren't instead bringing America the next Carol Burnett. Easy answer: They couldn't find her…or if they found her, they couldn't get her. (There was a brief moment when NBC wanted to star Gilda Radner in such a show but she declined.) Over the years, I have occasionally gone through meetings with stars who'd been proposed to star in variety shows. Here are three "blind" — meaning I'm not telling who they were — examples that reflect three reasons I've noted for the dearth of ideal variety show hosts…
Example #1 was a music superstar, at least if you define that term in number of records sold. This man had sold millions of them. A producer who thought the star could topline a weekly variety hour took me to his home to sell that premise and I, as the proposed Head Writer for such a program, laid out the format and some of the ideas I'd had. The star listened politely, laughed in all the right places, then asked the producer what kind of money he might make from such a gig and how much of his time it might require. The producer told him and the meeting was as good as over. "I make that in two nights in Vegas," the star said as modestly as anyone could say such a thing. The producer, treading water now, suggested that a weekly variety show would boost the star's fame and drive even more fans his way. The star, again with remarkable humility in his voice, pointed out that he already sold out every venue he played and asked, "Why would I want to work ten times as hard and give up most of those concerts to make one-fifth the money?" We couldn't answer that so we thanked him and left.
Example #2 was a musical act who'd had a few hits…and by a "few," I mean less than three. They were eager to star in a weekly, prime-time variety series but just talking to them in the conference room of the same producer as in Example #1, a problem was obvious: They couldn't talk. They could sing but if we'd wanted them to come out and just say, "Welcome to our show," we'd have had to put it on TelePrompter and cue cards, rehearse it for an hour and then tape it one word at a time and edit it all together. I'd done those shows and so had this producer…and complicating it was that the musical act had Managers (with a capital "M"). The Managers were sure the act would be the biggest thing since the Beatles — one even said that in those terms — and they weren't sure they wanted their Superstars of Mañana to be tied down to a weekly gig. They did, however, suggest that there were ways that would convince then…say, if they [The Managers] got to own the show, serve as Executive Producers and to book all the other acts they represented. The producer and I exchanged looks that suggested that meeting was effectively over and it was.
Example #3 was a comedian who very much wanted to do a show but wanted to know how I saw his role in it. How I saw it didn't sit well with him. It was as a host who served as the anchor and who reacted to funny guest stars and regulars much the way Jack Benny played off Dennis Day, Don Wilson, Mel Blanc and so on. The comedian had said Jack Benny was his idol but he told us flat out that if he was going to do a show that had his name in the title (The XXXX XXXXXX Show, which was the only title he'd accept) then he was going to be the funny one. I repeated myself about Benny and reminded him that Mary Tyler Moore let Ed Asner, Ted Knight, Betty White and Cloris Leachman be the funny ones, and how Andy Griffith let Don Knotts walk off with The Andy Griffith Show. "No one in television was ever more successful and beloved than Mary Tyler Moore and Andy Griffith," I noted. He didn't dispute my history lesson but said he would not do a show like that.
The moment I knew this meeting was over came when I said, "But if, let's say, we had Robin Williams as a guest star…" and the comedian said, "…then I'd damn well better get more laughs than he does." The producer in this case thought there was still a sale to be made so the project went forward…for about a week. That was how long it took the buyers at all three networks to say — and this is a quote from one of them — "Who'd want to watch a show starring that asshole?" I couldn't disagree a whole lot.
I have this odd idea in my head that variety shows are going to make a comeback one of these days. It'll take two things. One is, of course, an amazing star or stars. Just because that person/act isn't easy to name at the moment doesn't mean they aren't out there or on their way. The other requirement will be for someone to rethink the whole idea of a variety show and to reinvent the form…not in toto but the way shows like All in the Family and The Mary Tyler Moore Show reinvented sitcoms or the way Who Wants To Be a Millionaire? took prime-time game shows to a new level. This is not to say I think it's going to happen next year or the one thereafter. But it'll happen. In television, no good idea has ever gone away forever. Hell, we can't even get rid of the bad ones.
