TV REVIEW: PALEYFEST 2011

Jimmy Fallon Is So Damn Affable, and 'Community' Takes Risks

By: Josh Moorhead

March 21, 2011

Note: PaleyFest happened in 13 parts. The writer experienced two.

There is a land called show business. The road there is fraught with danger and the corpses of the failed along the way that only compare with the throngs of those who've given up and are leaving, outweighed by the throngs moving in their opposite direction--attempting, as they would, to make it into this world, determined not to be like the ones surrounding them. But oh so few at the top and how many of them are actually satisfied there? These are the dramatic, heavy-handed, existential questions LA folk will ask themselves in between Machiatos, script revisions, cast calls, and glitzy albeit common events here. I've seen Bai Ling give a clothed lapdance to Pedro Almodovar at a Hollywood club, but I can't tell you yet what it takes to be sitting in his chair or standing in her heels outside of talent and good looks. Which attribute belonging to which, I'll let you decide--why not?

So the town, and much of the rest of the world, celebrates and studies those that have made it. It's what makes a Kardashian fascinating to some although redeeming to most no one: just how did they get there? And others we celebrate because their talent or grit or circumstance overcame convention or the odds against them, and we want to believe that's something that can happen in this life. I'm getting a little ahead of myself here at 1:34 a.m. When it rains in LA, which is like never, you know, the whole city can get pensive.

But PaleyFest is an extension of this study--another organization that argues, and rightly so, that media is important, and in this aspect, Television. Sure thing. Mine went out today in that extremely adverse LA weather (see: rain), and I thought I had to go to the grocery store and stock up on canned goods and duct tape. It's not the end of the world. But television has definitely contributed something to it. And those that are doing it well, or differently, are studied and celebrated every year as part of PaleyFest--something a wide-eyed admirer back in Ohio wished he could go to in years past, and finally, this time around, another LA transplant got to do.

I covered two nights: Jimmy Fallon and Community. And although I didn't earn my pretension at the outset here, and I'd readily want to take a needle and pop that balloon of hot air if this was somebody else's column, there's a point to the set up and inflation. It's like Ferris Bueller said: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." And the people associated with these shows seem to have done just that, to one level or another. Maybe, for some, the key to success in this Wackness is a positive and grateful spirit. No. Really. My hair is sans-braid and I own nothing tie-died. I'm not trying to "The Secret" you, but this might be the secret to success...

Think about Jimmy Fallon. Would you say he's even funny? When you think of most comedians, you think of the flavor you expect to get from them--the shtick, the bit. Jimmy Fallon has essentially built an entire career on something the crass disdain but we'd all be well-served to learn from: a sincere positivity and optimistic outlook. The dude is just so damn affable. I can't say I think of him as funny as the way I do Will Ferrell, Steve Martin, or Norm MacDonald, but I like the TV when he's on it. I'm comfy there, and not in the way that Jay Leno sedates and removes color from the set.

Getting a dose of Fallon live was the same experience but more stark. Hearing his journey was a bit "Die Hard." Jimmy Fallon is a John McClane of show business--just a normal guy thrust into extraordinary situations, but instead of the Nakatomi tower, he's always been in the right place at the right time. I'm sure he's human. I'm sure deep down he has his struggles, disappointments, and more off-color opinions and comments, but his whole goal is to cultivate something positive in a world overwrought with sarcasm and irony. Isn't there anyone left that just wants to have a good time? Well, there's Jimmy Fallon. He talked about how Tiger Woods was coming on soon, and when the moderator, G4's Chris Hardwick, proposed joking about the dude's recent troubles, Jimmy said they'd be playing miniature golf. This might seem like a cop out, and you can't imagine that David Letterman or Jon Stewart could resist a chance to get in a jab at Tiger, but Jimmy said he's found most of his success has been in making his guests feel comfortable and letting them know that they can trust him and his staff. And you get the sense that that's worth while.

Jimmy's thesis boils down to something that didn't even air on his show--the Emmy opening from last year. Catch that here. Haters beware. Your heart will grow three sizes a la The Grinch from watching that clip. Jimmy proposes that there's still something cool about what we're doing, still something about life worth celebrating, and dammit that's just a nice thought. And after spending a few hours with him in a crowded theater, you become convinced it's a legitimate one too. Jimmy Fallon is just a guy you want to be around, so he's been around our entertainments here for a while. His version of Late Night, which somehow managed to stay an eye-of-NBC late-night storm, has been a worthy follow-up to Conan and Letterman, if not so different from them to completely avoid comparison and thus a failure in expectations.

As Chris Hardwick pointed out, it's really an old-fashioned variety show. There are jokes, sketches, singing, games, and when Tiger Woods shows up, putt-putt. Password with Robert DeNiro. Beer pong with Betty White. It's like the wacky things you'd think to do with a celebrity, and Jimmy and his staff go through with it, and they can because the talent knows they're coming from a place that's not making fun of them. Late Night with Jimmy Fallon is for people who bowl because they find it fun, not because it's ironic or a good place to smoke a cigarette.

So Jimmy's life story of just being open to opportunity is pretty cool. He realized he dug comedy somewhere along the way, so he did some impressions, pocketed 700 bucks from a contest, realized that was a nice way to make money, kept doing the same bit, and although nervous at every turn (he even sweat bullets at PaleyFest!), he just kept stepping to the plate. It's that John McClane thing. And it's not that Jimmy's humor or show are afraid to get a little lewd or out-there; in fact, the whole Paley audience ended up singing "Balls in our mouth"--a riff on causey folk songs Jimmy came up with during the BP oil rig crisis, referencing balls of oil that collected on the shores. The show also goes to some goofy places that would make Letterman or Conan proud, like a character that's a rapper obsessed with the Hubbel telescope, or widespread viral hits like a Neil Young cover of "Pants on the Ground," or one that was shockingly joined by Springsteen doing an impersonation of himself covering "Whip My Hair." It's just all good fun. And Jimmy's show is the first on such a wide scale to really harness social media and in a way that feels natural. His show actually started in previews on the web.

So it ended up being an unexpectedly fun, warm night where, by the end, Ben and Jerry's Late Night Snack ice cream was waiting in the lobby for everyone in attendence. A treat created for the show. Which is what you get out of being likable, available, and open to opportunity like Jimmy--a nice career, and people saying, "Eh, what the heck? Let's name an ice cream after you." You'd have to believe that Jimmy doesn't believe nice guys finish last.

Then there's Community. It's not afraid to take an abundance of risks that Fallon maybe wouldn't, to offend many or to be a bit daring, a bit different. A show that goes for it almost every time out, all out, and is surprising in how often it lands that leap perfectly with 10s all around from the judges week in and week out. In a renewal notice from NBC recently (hooray!), the network cited that Community, while not the highest rated show in the world, is one of the highest rated with the affluent (see educated, money-makin' households). But this isn't Masterpiece Theater. And for pete's sake it's a show about a community college. There are fart jokes. Boob jokes. Race jokes. Jokes the size of your head. But it's still smart comedy. It's still structured, executed, and conceived in such a clever, original way that, when the show exhausts itself, it'll probably have a firm place at the Paley museum and be a cultural reference point for years to come. The show really takes its chances like maybe no sitcom before.

Creator Dan Harmon, who you can see thinking behind his eyes like a comedy raptor in the bushes before an attack, has that comedian's self-deprication and uncertainty that convinces him this whole project will implode soon and that he best exhaust all his ideas in quick and grand fashion. So Community is constantly and fearlessly taking chances. It's not that Community has grand statements to make, but it does have a heart, and it has a strong affection for genres, cliches, and story that it goes nuts in lampooning and bending the usual route sitcoms usually go. Community is the path less taken, and it's hard to believe sometimes you're seeing this stuff on television. Because it's goofy. There have been zombie episodes, claymation episodes, Dungeons & Dragons episodes, and episodes that manage to take place in space or in a single room. Community is the first show for a generation that knows pop culture and TV Land like orators used to hand down fables, or like people used to quote Shakespeare. The Fonz is our shorthand, the reference our reference; Community speaks that language fluently, all while inventing new terminology.

It has a lot to owe to its cast too, who are bound to blow up big from this thing. Joel McHale holds down the fort as cool guy Jeff Winger, who finds himself begrudingly becoming a buddy to all involved. Alison Brie and Gillian Jacobs are attractive, sure, but also versatile talents who are game for any craziness the show throws them. Danny Pudi and Don Glover as Abed and Troy are like watching nebulas burn hot, week in and week out, before bursting into stars. Yvette Nicole Brown is a warm presence that snaps into stern no-nonsense on a comedic dime. Ken Jeong is a tiny Asian comedy Sonic the Hedgehog, all speed and bluster and hilarious momentum. And you know what Chevy Chase is. He's Pierce Hawthorne--the show's kind of conniving and concieted crummudgeon, but he's Chevy Chase, the comedy legend.

Therein lies the point here. On stage, Chevy was Chevy. He farted when someone gave a too-serious answer. He claimed to have never watched the show, to know its title, or when it airs. He claimed he had other places to be. But then a rarer side of the dude emerged--the one that was genuinely appreciative to be a part of this, that loved the work they were doing, that lauded his co-stars. The real Chevy. A sweet guy who, after years of success (and some failure too, but with legend status attained), had the same "wow" attitude as his younger costars.

Danny Pudi (his Abed is like nothing else on TV) and Yvette Nicole-Brown were effusive in their thanks to us, the crowd. You get the sense, especially from Danny, that he can't even believe this is all for real. It's like watching the show itself, but it speaks to that idea--that these people are not jaded, even the top of the top, even the guy that hosts The Soup. They realize they're a part of something special and different, and they're thankful for it, and they make sacrifices for it. Sure, these guys make a better buck than most all of us, but it still takes work to pull this work off, and sleeping for three hours a night in your trailer on the weekend to shoot 20 hours to make sure the next episode gets to air isn't exactly the lavish lifestyle we all picture when we think of TV stars. It's still work, and it's nice to know they really try for their audience.

Even so, it's like Jimmy was saying on his night--it's the best job in the world. There ends up being something endearing about someone who's still in awe enough that they keep pinching themselves to see if they're dreaming. And on stage with Jimmy and Community, there was a lot of pinching.

But Community does that every week, seeing if what they're doing's really happening, if it's really somehow made it to the airwaves. The show comes to bat as hard as it can at the ball like an old school bomber. They're not playing for the batting average, though it remains startling high; they're playing for the runs, and we end up admiring and remembering them for the hits and forgetting the misses. Community is always swinging.

And let's do away with all the hoo-ha for a minute. It's just hilarious. And that's a lot easier said than done, and in the way that Community is hilarious, a lot more rare than common. Community is a lot less Two and a Half Men and a lot more Charlie Sheen. It's tiger blood, baby. It's winning. And the cast and crew seem to be realizing that without drinking their own Kool-Aid.

It was particularly interesting to hear Harmon talk about the show's process, to admit that, in the first season, he went a little "Howard Hughes" and kind of locked himself away and took too much posession over the scripts and creative process. Now he realizes, he says, he's part of a bigger thing, and that if we like Community now, we like it because of a room full of talented writers who go all night most nights, arguing Uncle Sam hot ladies wear for a skinny dude and the pros and cons of Bare Naked Ladies. It sounds like silly debates to have, but that's how good they want the show to be for the audience. How much they're really giving it.

At the end of the day, there's a room full of people at the Paramount lot or in 30 Rockefeller Center arguing if a reference to Gremlins 2 is too obscure, or if having Benicio Del Toro do his interview while inhaling helium to make him sound like a cartoon is okay, but a brain surgeon who just saved some lives sits down to watch this stuff to make his life a little bit happier and a little less stressed. And that's why Paley puts them on the stage.

For anybody who wants to end up there too, maybe it's just best to follow their lead.

PaleyFest is really cool and you should go. Here's more information from the Paley site for the next time around: http://www.paleycenter.org/. Including highlights from this years programs: http://www.paleycenter.org/collection-screening-room.