‘That’s comedy. You overstep’
Veteran comic talks about her cancelled show, defending Dave Chappelle and humour that offends
When it comes to Tales of the Emmys, few are more bittersweet — or just plain sweet — than when an already cancelled series is recognized with a nomination. It’s a reminder too that you can’t always judge a creative success in commercial terms.
“We were so tickled,” said Sarah Silverman, whose series, “I Love You, America,” was cancelled by Hulu after its second season ended late last year but was nominated for an Emmy in the variety sketch category, losing to “Saturday Night Live.”
“It got cancelled six months ago, so I’ve moved on a bit in my mind. But we had such a great time. We were sad when it got cancelled.” (It was nominated for its first season as well.)
“Variety sketch” doesn’t adequately describe the show, now streaming in Canada on Crave. Though it’s hosted by a comedian and features appearances by Fred Armisen as Jesus, Will Ferrell as Socrates, Maya Rudolph as a French Statue of Liberty, and Sen. Cory Booker and Silverman ordering fast food and government programs at a drive-through, it’s also the expression of a world view, a philosophy, a hope. And it’s a sort of adventure in which Silverman goes out to meet people with different world views, philosophies and hopes. You grew up in New Hampshire. How did that affect your understanding of different, possibly conflicting communities?
My sister Susie says it best — we thought being Jewish meant being a Democrat, because that’s how we were different from New Hampshire; there weren’t many of either. We weren’t raised really with a strong sense of Judaism, other than just being very aware that we were Jewish. It didn’t really become clear to me until I got older and looked back on it, but even growing up, all my friends’ parents would say, “Are you from New York?” and I’d go, “What’s New York? I’m from here!” And another thing, which probably helped in becoming a comedian, is being Jewish, I had an innate sense that I needed to make my friends’ parents feel safe and comfortable with me in their home.
When I was in seventh grade our family worked for the Jesse Jackson campaign and I had a ... douchebag English teacher, and after Jesse Jackson called New York “Hymietown,” my teacher goes, “We work for the Jesse Jackson campaign, but I’m sure Sarah’s family doesn’t.” I remember even then thinking, “Actually, our whole family’s working for the Jesse Jackson campaign — and if you think he’s antiSemitic, why are you working for the campaign?” It was very odd when I got disillusioned with grown-ups not knowing everything.
As a comic you deal in irony, but there’s also a strain of real sincerity in “I Love You, America.”
That was something that hit me when we were developing the show. I had all these earnest ambitions, and I thought, “If anything earnest isn’t sandwiched between super aggressive hard jokes or aggressively stupid silly humour — which is my favourite — then we should just (cancel) ourselves right now.” If I watched a show that was just the earnest part, I’d probably just be like, “... you.” I was so enwrapped in the earnest endeavour I forgot, “This must be served with very hard or very silly jokes.”
We did 21 episodes — I mean, it’s nothing. A show like that needs at-bats; it just got more and more honed and realized. It was unfortunate that we had to stop, because we were just figuring it out. I remember editing the very last episode, which I didn’t know would be the very last episode, but I knew it was the last episode of the season. I had this thing wash over me, like, “Oh, I get it now — we’re being too precious!” But that’s showbiz, baby! What would you want to cover now if you were still in production?
I would love to have the guy who had the leading gay conversion centre who just came out as gay. That’s so massive to me. It’s a while ago, but there was a young guy of colour who was a college student (Naropa University student Zayd Atkinson) who was picking up trash around his dorm, because he was on work study, (and had a gun drawn on him by then-Boulder police officer John Smyly). Forgive me for having empathy for the cop, he was a ... but he was also a kid. That’s an opportunity to not only be changed but to change so many other people, if they were on together and we didn’t villainize the cop but we villainized his actions or his ignorance. And what if he has been changed, or what if he wants to be? Have you ever heard from anyone in your audience, or someone who’d been on the show, that it changed them?
Not necessarily from the show, but definitely people that I’ve had contact with and stayed in touch with. I’ve made a lot of friends on social media and a lot of times it starts with a contentious relationship. And it takes so little connection, like, gestures of love or kindness. There’s a woman that went after me on Twitter, a young prolifer, and I just went, “Hey, we are never going to agree on this. We disagree on when life begins, and this is not anything to argue — there is no argument.” And now we follow each other, we never say a bad word about each other. We have totally different political views, but she’ll direct message me and be like, “I had the worst date last night.” I just think this is a time to connect with people. I feel so cocky talking about it, it’s just a stupid show, but the whole point of this administration is to divide us. I also think it’s interesting what’s happened on the left. It’s almost like there’s a mutated McCarthy era, where any comic better watch anything they say. If you have a special and someone doesn’t agree with every single thing you say on that special ... you know, (Dave) Chappelle says it at the beginning of his special (”Sticks and Stones,” on Netflix), and he still gets so much ... for it. I loved it. There were things in it that I did not like. But has there been a special you love and agree with across the board? That’s comedy: You overstep. You say things you might not even believe by the time it comes out. You’re always changing. It’s art. It’s not politics.
I’ve said it before, there’s this kind of “righteousness porn” going on with cancelling people over their past, a thing they said or a moment they had, with no earnest hope that they may be changed. We see Megan Phelps-Roper, who grew up in the (anti-gay) Westboro Baptist Church, and we love her because she’s changed. But if we met her seven years ago, would she just have to be someone we had no hope for? She changed because people on social media talked to her warmly. Christian Picciolini was on the show, who was a neo-Nazi skinhead and was changed because someone gave him compassion even though he didn’t deserve it, in his words. So I always (ask myself), “Is this a ‘before’ Christian Picciolini?” It’s not very Jesuslike to just cancel people. I have to ask myself sometimes too, “Would I want this person to be changed or do I secretly want them to stay wrong so I can point to them as wrong and myself as right?” And that’s dark. And I see it. I see it in people I love or agree with on lots of things. So many hard lines — things need to be black and white and you need to know the answer. It can’t be ambiguous. And I think that’s a mistake. What makes you hopeful right now? Well, I’m not really sure how to answer that, except stuff I’m learning in therapy — and maybe this is why religion helps people too. If I just decide everything that happens is essential. You know, I went to therapy and I go, “I read the news and I repeat negative things and I can feel it eating my insides.” And I was trying to think of something more positive that would be the same reaction, and then I came up with it: What a time to be alive!
You were close to the late Garry Shandling. Is it fair to say his spirit informs “I Love You, America?”
Totally, completely. I wish he could have written for it. It’s funny, I’m standing in my apartment looking at a picture of him. He was such a mentor. And not just in comedy or navigating this show business stuff but human stuff.
Everything he learned the hard way, he gave to us on a silver platter.
I remember years ago this comic stole a whole bit from me, and I was so frustrated; he tried to buy it from me and I said no, and I found out he was doing it. And I told Garry, and he was just like, “Who cares? That guy can’t write. You can. Write more things.” All this Zen Buddhist stuff he would learn — like, ugh, my friend Harris, my mother and Garry all died in less than two years. After my mom died, he said what Buddhists say is, “Grief, teach me what I have to learn.”
That’s a good one.
It was very odd when I got disillusioned with grown-ups not knowing everything