Guffman Arrives! Waiting for Guffman finally gets the credit it deserves for ushering in the age of subtlety and awkwardness.

“If there's an empty space, just fill it with a line, that's what I like to do. Even if it's from another show.”

                      Ron Albertston (Fred Willard) on Improvisation, Waiting for Guffman, 1997.

When contemplating the comedy giants of the 90’s, Mike Myers, Jerry Seinfeld, Jim Carey, Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller automatically come to mind.  While these five titans of the box office played a huge role in defining the comedy trends of the decade, it was Christopher Guest and his ensemble of improvisers who would ultimately have a greater influence in the comedy of the 2000’s.

The creative teams behind The Office, Superbad, Flight of the Concords, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Borat, Modern Family and others all owe a huge debt to Guest and Co.  Yes, the same can be said for Jerry Seinfeld and Kevin Smith, but, as far as I’m concerned, the Christopher Guest Players were like the Velvet Underground in late sixties: hardly anyone bought a record, but everyone that did, formed a band.

The band analogy is a good one for Guest as his first hit as co-writer and actor was the landmark 1984 film, This is Spinal Tap. The Rob Reiner-directed “mocumentary” follows a fictional English heavy metal band in decline as they embark on a doomed tour of North America. Almost all of the film is improvised over a skeleton script which would be the template for many of Guest’s subsequent movies.   

 Contrary to popular opinion, This is Spinal tap wasn’t the first faux-documentary comedy. Woody Allen’s Take the Money and Run, and the Beatles’ A Hard Days Night both preceded it in theatres, while on TV, the George Harrison- produced The Ruttles: All you need is cash premiered in 1978.  While it wasn’t the first, This is Spinal Tap did more to popularize the mocumentary than any other film.  

 In 2002, 18 years after it was released, This Is Spinal Tap was deemed "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the U.S. Library of Congress and was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry. But in 1984, the film opened in 3 theatres and was only the 117^th highest grossing film of the year. It’s safe to say that not everyone knew what to make of it.

"The first time Steven [Tyler] saw it he didn't see any humor in it. That's how close to home it was. He was pissed! He was like, that’s not funny!"

Aerosmith’s Brad Whitford on front-man Steven Tyler’s reaction to watching This is Spinal Tap.  (Spin, May 1997)

It was only on video and through word of mouth did the film age well enough to become one of the most influential and beloved comedies of all time.  However, as important as This is Spinal Tap was in popularizing the faux-documentary form, it says here that 1997’s Waiting for Guffman was not only a better film, but has had a greater influence in popularizing the subtle, dry comedy of the 2000’s.

 In Waiting for Guffman, co-written by Guest and Eugene Levy, the fictitious town of Blaine Missouri is celebrating its’ 150^th anniversary with a musical theatre revue written specifically for the occasion. Through first person interviews and a fly-on- the- wall shooting style, the film follows group of amateur actors from the first audition through to opening night. 

In both Tap and Guffman, Guest relies on the humour found in watching people with questionable talent take themselves far too seriously.  But here’s the distinction:  the buffoons in Tap are mostly unsympathetic, selfish louts who are  oblivious to their own flaws. Conversely, when interviewed about Guffman or the subsequent films, Guest has insisted repeatedly that his amateur actors, dog lovers and aging folk musicians are not being mocked, but are characters with depth and are grounded in reality. Even the over-the-top Corky St. Clair, played by Guest, delivers his funniest lines within naturalistic and unpredictable dialogue. 

In Guffman, Guest bravely mines for humor in quiet boredom; a challenging endeavor that is only accomplished when in the hands of a strong actor who can communicate the important subtext within the scene:

“I been workin' here at the D.Q. for about, um... eight months? Seven? I don't know, somethin' like that, it's fun. Just do the cones... make sundaes, make Blizzards, 'n... put stuff on 'em, 'n... see a lot of people come in, a lot of people come to the D.Q... burgers... ice cream... anything, you know? Cokes... just drive in and get a Coke, if you're thirsty”.  

Libby Mae Brown (Parker Posey), Waiting for Guffman, 1997.

Doesn’t seem that funny on the page? I agree, which is why Parker Posey (who likely improvised the above) deserves a life-time achievement Oscar for making that dialogue hilarious.

Perhaps Guffman’s comedy legacy can best be seen in modern television commercials.   As an actor who frequently auditions for TV ads, I can’t count the number of times I’ve received the following from a   casting director, “Ok, guys, really subtle, they want this played really small”.  And that’s before they see my Jack Tripper-inspired over- acting.

So why has the dry, subtle awkwardness of Waiting for Guffman taken hold of TV and to a lesser extent, movies?  I would argue that we’re tired of being told when to laugh. We want to be a fly on the wall and find the humour for ourselves, (perhaps a product of our reality TV obsession, but that’s another column). The popularity of the faux-documentary form in television has made the laugh-track an endangered species, a death I’m happy to see accelerated.  WTG’s finger prints are also all over the non-mocumentaries of the last ten years. From the improvised dialogue of Curb your Enthusiasm to anything Michael Cera has ever done in a film, the roots of today’s comedy are found in Blaine, Missouri.

Like This is Spinal Tap before it, Waiting for Guffman opened on three screens across North America. It was the 162’nd highest grossing film of 1997. But for my money, it did more to influence modern comedy than any other film in the 1990’s.  

By Geoff Hendry

© 2011 Showflicks Inc.

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