The real suspense this pilot season

Most people in television are either underpaid or overpaid.

When actors sign on to pilots they commit to the series for five to seven years. If the show becomes a huge hit in season two, the network and studio (often they’re the same) makes a shitload while the actor works for his agreed upon price, usually based on what he made on a failed series or two busted previous pilots.

So it stands to reason that should the series go long enough that the actor’s contract is up he will ask for the moon to stay with it. And many times get it. (This is the plot of my comic novel, MUST KILL TV, which you should have already but if you don’t, go here immediately and order it.) Many times stars have the production company and network over a barrel. Remember the FRIENDS negotiations? Or MODERN FAMILY? Actors go from underpaid to overpaid in a blink.

But networks do have options in most cases. They can continue the series without the star. LAW & ORDER is just a revolving door. THE OFFICE survived "Michael's" departure.   But usually this ploy does not sit well with viewers. NBC lost both Sanford and son and changed the show to THE SANFORD ARMS. As someone said, “they just renewed the set.”

A lot depends on how integral the star is to the show’s success. When CSI’s Jorja Fox and George Eads tried to play hardball they were temporarily fired from the show.

I’m reminded of the story of Ralph Kiner, a once great power hitter, who socked over fifty home runs one year for the Pittsburgh Pirates although they wound up in the cellar. When he wanted to renegotiate his contract, team president Branch Rickey said no raise. Kiner reminded him of his fifty home run feat and Rickey said, “Ralph, we can finish last without you.”

Obviously you need Nathan Fillion on CASTLE since he is Castle. (His contract is up for grabs.) But if one of the guys in the squad wants to hold out for a big payday, good luck to him.

How successful a show is also determines whether the network will back up the Brinks truck to the star’s garage. CSI, for example. Star Ted Danson’s deal is up. I’m sure he makes more than pocket change, especially since his joining CSI turned it around and saved it. But now, after either 15 or 60 years on the air (I forget which), the numbers are dwindling. Is it worth it to CBS to pay Danson what he justifiably deserves to keep the show going another couple of years, or is it time to just pull the plug? They sure have enough episodes for syndication.

So as the next couple of weeks unfold and networks decide on their upcoming Fall schedules, they’ll have lots to consider. Are returning stars worth the big bucks they’re demanding? Are the pilots good enough that it’s worth replacing some of these old franchises? Will the void left by one show hurt the shows around it? Can the series survive without the star in question?

And for the actor – is it worth walking away from a big existing hit? How many of them are there? Is it worth holding out? One thing is for sure – networks won’t give you what you deserve unless you demand it and back them into a corner. Don’t ever expect benevolence.

So it’s game on. Shows that were locks for renewal might not get on. Shows that were on the bubble will live or die based on negotiations with other shows. Shows that were once dead will suddenly find themselves on Thursday night. Boy, to me, all of this seems much more fun and suspenseful than the shows the networks put on air.

UPDATE:  It was just reported that Nathan Fillion has signed so the announcement says CASTLE is virtually assured of continuing.   However, Stana Katic is still unsigned.  What does it say about her leverage when ABC is essentially saying we can do the show without her?   Expect her to sign real soon. 

UPDATE 2:  I will performing at Sit n' Spin tonight -- it's a fun night of storytelling. 8 PM at the Hudson Theater in Hollywood. For reservations: 323-960-5519. Warning though: it's free.

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Happy Birthday, Elizabeth Montgomery

I will get to Liz.  Read on. 



At first I was very excited about nostalgia channels. How cool to be able to watch shows I loved as a kid again. But then I discovered some problems.


A lot of these shows don’t hold up. Kojak seemed really cutting edge at the time. But compared to shows like THE WIRE or THE SHIELD, he sounds as street and authentic as Inspector Gadget.

The old DANNY THOMAS SHOW used to make me laugh. Now, Danny Thomas’ character just comes off as a bombastic misogynistic asshole. How did grown-ups back in the day not see this at the time? I was a kid. I had an excuse.

A lot of the comedies don’t hold up, which makes you appreciate even more the ones that do – like THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW and THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW. But in fairness, even as a kid, a lot of the sitcoms of the day didn’t wow me. I never thought GILLIGAN’S ISLAND was remotely amusing. Nor did I laugh once at I DREAM OF JEANNIE. BEWITCHED was funny the first season but I continued to watch because I was in love with Elizabeth Montgomery (today would have been her 82nd birthday, by the way). Same with PETTICOAT JUNCTION. When you have three hot babes Sean Hannity could write the comedy. Milk has a longer expiration date than BATMAN jokes had. And neither character Patty Duke played in THE PATTY DUKE SHOW was funny (but Patty was less unfunny than Cathy). Still, I watched every week – and I think you can surmise why.

On the other hand, DOBIE GILLIS and CAR 54 WHERE ARE YOU? still provide some genuine laughs. Shows that had a certain anarchy seemed to age better.

Once you get into the ‘70s things improve considerably. BARNEY MILLER, the MTM shows, ALL IN THE FAMILY, MASH. But the ‘70s create another problem. Shows of mine are on it. I’m way too young to have shows on the fucking nostalgia channel! It’s bad enough I have shows on TV LAND.

The other depressing thing is the commercials. GIDGET, a show about fun loving teenagers who surf and hang out at the beach is now sponsored by Depends and drugs to prevent strokes. Where are the Pepsi: For Those Who Think Young commercials? With all the girls running around in bikinis at least advertise Viagra.

You wonder whether there will be nostalgia channels for today’s fare. You wonder whether there will be channels period. But with so many niche shows on so many platforms and all episodes being so readily available on streaming services or DVD I suspect there will be no equivalent in thirty years. And if there is, with whatever technical advances they will have then, since no one will watch commercials, they might just digitally include products into the body of shows. They’ll give Liz Lemon a walker. Raylan Givens will be wearing Depends when he takes his pants off for a sex scene. Oh, for the good old days when the shows were originally aired… with seventeen banners, network logos, animated promos, storm warnings on the screen...

And BEWITCHED still on four times a day.   God bless nostalgia channels.  

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HBO's Sinatra

Who’s seen the four hour HBO documentary on Sinatra? Who under the age of 50 has seen the four hour HBO documentary on Sinatra? Who under the age of 20 has even heard of Sinatra?

You really should see it. I’m sure they’ll replay it a gazillion times. It’s chock full of great footage and does a pretty good job of giving you a portrait of this extremely gifted and complex man.

As in all Sinatra bios, it’s somewhat slanted in one direction or the other – in this case, favorably. Little surprise there because the family sanctioned it and gave them access to lots of unseen stuff. On the other hand, you can pick up Kitty Kelly’s bio of Frank, open to any page and he’s either having someone roughed up or he’s sleeping with Bacall while Bogie is on his deathbed. A book by his longtime valet reveals that in the early ‘50s when the clock reached 1:00 AM and none of Sinatra’s girlfriends or high-priced hookers were available, he’d call neighbor Peggy Lee and go over to her place to bang her. (That must’ve been lovely for Peggy Lee’s family to read.)

The impossible task is to determine truth from myth. I’m sure some of the stories about him aren’t true, while other, even more outlandish stories, are.

From the valet’s bio: When Sinatra was considering going out with Mia Farrow he was concerned she was still a teenager. Would he have anything to talk about with her? Would he feel like a dirty old man? So his cronies arranged for him to sleep with a few teenagers to, y’know, take ‘em for a test drive. This was not in the documentary. But was it even true? Did Joseph Kennedy and JFK spend weekends at Sinatra’s Palm Springs pad just passing around girls? Again, not in the doc. (But probably definitely true.)

The documentary was very selective. It referenced his father’s death but said nothing about his mother, who died in a plane crash. It talks about the Frank Sinatra Jr. kidnapping but doesn’t tell you how they caught the idiots who pulled it. There’s a section about Frank Jr.’s career as a singer but nothing about Nancy’s – and she was successful.

But to its credit, the documentary does not completely whitewash. It practically states that Sinatra got Kennedy elected thanks to the mob fixing the Illinois election. And although Sinatra was truly a champion in the fight for Civil Rights, the movie does show him making horribly offensive racist jokes at the expense of Sammy Davis Jr.   Face it, the man was an enigma.

But he was also a remarkable singer. And the documentary really celebrates that. You see snippets of many performances and get glimpses into his process. He learned a breathing technique from Tommy Dorsey that allowed him to pause in songs based on story points, not the normal breaks. He originated the theme album, chose all his material, and had strong input on his arrangements. For six weeks before recording an album he quit smoking and drinking. In the valet’s book, he said Sinatra also sang opera to prepare his voice. He recorded all of his songs with the orchestra live in the studio. No headphones, no glass booth, no singing over pre-recorded tracks.

Personally, I think his Capitol Records period in the ‘50s was remarkable. He was at the absolute height of his powers at a time when that kind of music was in vogue. To this day I marvel at those albums. No one could sing a torch song like Sinatra. When I was nine they made me cry and I had no idea what he was singing about. Check out this song from 1957. Your heart positively breaks for him even though you know that any girl you ever loved would leave you in a second for him.

His swinging repertoire, masterfully arranged by Nelson Riddle, remains in a class by itself. Sorry, Michael Buble, you’re a cover band.

The fact that Sinatra seemed to record every single song written between 1935-1980, there is a huge body of work. Lots will be forgotten but I feel some of his Capitol tunes will be heard for the next hundred years. The only surviving art of the 20th Century will be I LOVE LUCY and Sinatra’s “Only the Lonely” album.

But then came the ‘60s and his ultimate downfall. I blame it on the Rat Pack. Yes, they were entertaining and put Vegas on the map, but it spawned the Sinatra “ring a ding ding” persona and as the music scene moved on he became more entrenched as this anachronistic hipster and became a joke. He was completely out of touch with rock music, and when he attempted to sing it (with his special “spin”) it was laughable. Listen to his appalling version of Mrs. Robinson. “Jilly” loves you more than you will know. How’s your bird, Mrs. Robinson? Wouldn’t you have loved to be in the room with Paul Simon when he first heard that?

The documentary does show a clip of Sinatra on a Fifth Dimension special wearing a sequenced Nehru jacket and looking like a clown and then later a two-shot of him with Michael Jackson where it’s hard to tell who’s more creeped-out.

But ultimately Ol' Blue Eyes redeems himself, has one last hurrah with “New York/New York, and goes out on a high note.

I saw Sinatra in concert once. It was towards the end of his career. He was bloated, couldn’t hit most of the notes, the toupee was a little crooked, and his jokes were lame. (Quick aside: His jokes were always lame. He thought he was hilarious but never was. If he tried to make a living as a comedian instead of a singer, Peggy Lee would have said, “Stop calling me in the middle of the night! Get lost!”) But it was an unmistakable thrill. Just seeing him, just hearing him sing – and by that time he went back to familiar standards; no massacring Jim Croce songs – I felt I was in the presence of greatness. And how often do you experience that?

SINATRA, the four-hour HBO documentary ultimately focused on that, which is what I wanted. Being at the Universal Amphitheater that summer night, grooving to “Fly Me to the Moon,” I wasn’t thinking that he probably had Marilyn Monroe before Kennedy, or that he should be in prison on fifty counts of aggravated assault – I just reveled in the fact that I would never hear a better singer in my lifetime… and before every song he acknowledged the writers. I loved the guy.

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FURIOUS 7 -- A ten car pile-up of a movie

I know it’s a colossal boxoffice hit, breaking records worldwide. People are obviously clamoring to see this movie. So a review by me is not going to have the slightest effect on anything. The only reason I’m doing it is because I just have to get it off my chest.

A couple of points first. I love action movies. I recognize them as escapist fare. Who doesn’t love a good thrill ride? Who doesn’t like to sit in a theater and think “COOL!!!” when some spectacular feat is performed right before your eyes on a giant screen in THX sound?

There are always plot holes. You have to suspend a certain amount of belief. When Superman turns back into Clark Kent how come his business suit is never wrinkled? And where on the Superman costume does he store Clark’s glasses? When James Bond is captured, why doesn't the supervillain just shoot him? How does Jack Bauer get cellphone service in an airplane? Who teaches Indiana Jones’ classes when he’s off looking for Jesus’ pencilbox? You have to allow for some creative license. We pay good money precisely to “cut to the chase.”

Filmmakers need to up the ante. That’s the nature of action flicks. 70 year-old Lotte Lenya trying to kick James Bond with a spike in her shoe ain’t gonna cut it anymore (FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE). We’ve seen explosions. Ho hum. We’ve been on car chases. Nameless armies in matching colorful jumpsuits have been wiped out by one secret agent or anthropology professor. New stunts must be conceived. And executed. Thanks to CGI, blue screen, and other techno tricks, seemingly anything you can imagine can now be realized.

The first FAST & FURIOUS was a fun movie. There were some white-knuckle sequences and they did a great job of establishing relationships between the lead-foot drivers.

So I went into FURIOUS 7 with high hopes and low expectations.

Now my review, hopefully in a style not too derivative of Pauline Kael:

FURIOUS 7 is an absolute fucking mess! What the fuck was that?! No, seriously! There’s not a fucking frame of this stink burger that’s rooted in any reality. Roadrunner cartoons are more realistic. Is this what the action film genre has become? Mindless idiotic fucking stunts that defy all laws of gravity, physics, logic, and common sense? Hand-to-hand combat where the combatants beat the living shit out of each other and neither is even bruised? They crash through glass walls. No cuts. They hit each other with lead pipes. No blood. Their heads are smashed through concrete walls – not even a mild concussion. What the fuck was I watching? Nobody dies. Cars go over cliffs, roll over seventeen times, are twisted gnarled wrecks when they finally come to a rest 1,000 feet down the hill, and the passengers just wriggle out without so much as a scratch. At least Wile E. Coyote looks disheveled when he swallows a lit stick of dynamite that explodes in his stomach. Not Vin Diesel. Not Jason Stratham. Not the Rock. Creative license is one thing but this is fucking preposterous.

Cars go flying out of airplanes, the GPS-directed parachutes open, and the cars land right side up on the highway. Are you fucking kidding me? A car drives through a window in a skyscraper and lands in the adjoining skyscraper. And they do this stupid stunt twice!

In THE SPY WHO LOVED ME, a skier takes off from a mountain and we follow him down thousands of feet until a parachute opens. It’s a thrilling memorable sequence. Why? Because it really happened. There was a stuntman who actually skied off a mountain. NONE of these fucking FURIOUS stunts were real. No fucking car drove from building to building. It’s all bullshit.

And the dialogue was worse than the stunts. Just one fucking cliché or slogan after another delivered in dead serious tones.

“The thing about a street fight is that the street always wins.”

“I’m going to put a hurting on him so bad, he’s gonna wish his mama kept her legs closed.”

“Time to unleash the beast.”

“I live my life a quarter mile at a time. You do too. That’s why we’re brothers.”

Otherwise, it’s just relentless destruction. A fucking drone zooming overhead in LA shooting rockets? The military wouldn’t shoot that thing out of the sky in five seconds? They need super spyware to locate people yet occasionally just call time out and everyone flies to a new world location to resume the mayhem somewhere else. Now we’re in Abu Dhabi/now we’re in downtown Los Angeles. And if the film wasn’t blatantly exploitative enough, the overblown action is punctuated with shameless shots of hot girls in bikinis writhing or pouring water on themselves.

Then, as an afterthought they do a tacked-on tribute to the late Paul Walker. It’s maudlin and cringeworthy. And somewhat offensive considering he died in an auto accident and the movie celebrates two-plus rollicking hours of crash porn.

I fully expect to get some angry comments. I’m too old to appreciate head-on collisions at full speed where nobody even gets whiplash. I somehow missed the subtleties of the complex relationships (Paul Walker is having a hard time adjusting to being a father and not leaping out of planes – haven’t seen that storyline before), I take things too literal (like the existence of gravity), I’m jealous, I’m not as smart as critics, I have a thing against reckless driving, Vin Diesel wouldn’t let me create a sitcom for him, Sean Connery isn’t in it, I’m a snob, I now can’t sell my idea for a new Tom & Jerry movie, I don’t appreciate “Furious LORE,” or finally, I’m just an idiot.

Have at it. But it’s not going to change my mind. On a scale of 1-100, I’d have to say FURIOUS 7.

To repeat:  What the fuck?!

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Hey, there's a portion of my car on national TV!

In the first year of CHEERS, they still edited the show on film (later they would transfer the film to tape and edit digitally). One time my partner, David and I were asked to go over to editing and check something out. We walked across the lot to the building where our editors were located, trudged up the stairs, glanced out the big window that greeted us at the top of the stairs, and we both just stopped dead in our tracks.

It hit us both instantly.

That was the view out of Lucy and Ricky’s hotel room in Hollywood during that famous season of I LOVE LUCY. They must’ve taken the photo for the backdrop from right there.

This is one of the cool things about living in Los Angeles – recognizing locations in TV or movies that I know or have been to.

And it’s especially great when it comes as an unexpected surprise.

Here's another example: I grew up in Woodland Hills, a suburb of the San Fernando Valley. About ten years ago I’m watching a rerun of an old ‘50s action/crime show called HIGHWAY PATROL. This starred Broderick Crawford, an overweight middle-aged balding alcoholic as the head of the CHP. (Imagine getting that guy through network casting today? Now the same part would be played by Elizabeth Mitchell.)

Quick side note: Crawford really was an alcoholic. In fact, he had so many DUI’s that his drivers’ license had been permanently revoked. This caused a big problem because how can the head of the Highway Patrol not be able to drive? So a concession was reached. Crawford was allowed to drive but only when the camera was running. So the director would yell “Action!”, Crawford would drive the car, the director would yell “Cut! Let’s go again!”, and Crawford would have to exit the vehicle so a crew member could drive the car back to the original spot.

Anyway, I’m watching this show (probably on cable channel 863) and Crawford is driving down a street. Suddenly I recognize a storefront. Neider’s Auto Body. Holy shit! It hits me – he’s driving down Ventura Blvd., right where I used to live! I, of course, hadn’t seen that street in a million years. But it all came flooding back to me. He passed Dillaway Realty. I knew instantly what he would pass next – the Pool Supply store, then the Gulf gas station, the freeway underpass, and Love’s BBQ.

Sure enough the tracking shot continued. There was the Pool Supply place, there was the Gulf station, and then… what the fuck!? There was no freeway underpass. This must’ve been filmed a year before the freeway was erected.

I can’t tell you how absolutely weird that was. Truly, like being in a time machine.

And that was just one example. The Bob Hope movie, BACHELOR IN PARADISE was filmed in my neighborhood. The tract house he lived in was the same model as mine. (The interior was different though. Ours didn’t have Lana Turner.) There were scenes in the Woodlake Bowl where I once sprained my thumb! Landmarks popped up throughout the whole movie.

And this was not a rare occurrence.  I was very excited one afternoon to come out of the Woodland Hills library and see that they were filming a scene from THE FBI there. Efrem Zimbelist Jr.(who had his license) pulled his car to a stop right in front. And there, in the shot, for all to see, was the back fin of my Mercury Comet! The night it aired I actually invited friends over.

This is one of the perks of living in a company town. Seeing old neighborhoods and places long since turned into Costcos.  It's a real blast from the past. And it makes up for the horrible downside.

For every nostalgic wistful moment I’ve had, there are an equal or greater number of moments when I’ve been really pissed because traffic is snarled due to location filming of some fucking idiotic movie or TV show. Streets are blocked off.  Temporary "No Parking" signs are everywhere.  Equipment trucks and cable as far as the eye can see.  Giant lights blind you at night.  “Why can’t they film this goddamn thing in Pittsburgh”?! I’ve been known to yell.

But then I see Neider's Auto Body and realize I'm the luckiest guy in the world. 

This was a re-post from many many years ago. How many of you even remember it?

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My "Sam Kinison" period

Here's another tale of my checkered radio career. Back in 1974 I was a screaming disc jockey (literally) at WDRQ, Detroit. My tenure was short-lived but memorable.

At the time I had been out of work as a disc jockey for about six months. No one wanted a high energy, “youthful”-voiced, wise-ass-bordering-on-insane platter spinner (or, to be more accurate – music cartridge inserter). The program director of KYNO in Fresno kept me dangling for months for an all-night gig and eventually gave it to someone else. Needless to say, I was depressed. I mean, when they don’t think you’re good enough to talk to empty fields at 3 AM you tend to believe you don’t have a rosy future in this profession.

I had even gotten a different job – working in the research department of NBC. But preparing test results for Bob Crane pilots didn’t seem like the best way to fill five or six decades either.

And then, out of the blue, I get a call from the new program director of WDRQ. How would I like to come to Detroit and do 6-10 in the evening? This was unbelievable. I wasn’t qualified for all-nights in market #110 but was good enough to do a primo slot in market #5 or 6? The money was probably less than I’d get in Fresno but that was besides the point. I was heading to a major market!

The program director picked me up at the airport and drove me right to the station. It was snowing. This was mid-April. He wanted me to do a break-in show in the middle of the night – get used to the equipment and format so when I premiered at 6 PM I knew what I was doing.

I said, “Fine” without stopping to think – when am I going to sleep? I didn’t want to be rude and say, “I really should check into a motel instead of drinking beer and smoking more joints with you” so I just sucked it up. And then at midnight he drove me to the station, wished me luck, and drove off.  I went on the air – half-smashed, no preparation, and having already been up for close to 24 hours. It was my best show. 

“Oh, by the way”, I told him after we were both seeing mermaids at the IHOP, “I want to use the name Beaver Cleaver on the air.” He was so wasted he didn’t even ask me why. The answer to that is I wanted a name that stood out, was easy to say, and let’s be honest, was dirty.

I got off the air at 6 AM, met the morning man – a surely bitter fellow with a great voice and nothing else. The fact that I was funny, he hated me instantly. The program director arrived, said he was thrilled with how I sounded, and took me to breakfast at the IHOP, where it turns out, those mermaids were just the cleaning crew.

So after a good late morning sleep, the Beaver Cleaver show premiered on WDRQ at 6 that night. Got a call from the PD that I sounded great.

Things were going well and would remain that way… for another eight hours. The program director called me into his office. Apparently there was a problem. The station’s “consultant” had heard me and felt I needed a slight adjustment in my act. He wanted me to scream more. By more he meant every time I opened my mouth. The evening jock should sound super high energy and the way to achieve that (according to this moron) was to have the disc jockey scream. And I had no choice. Either scream or be fired after one day.

So I did and I sounded like a complete idiot. Imagine Sam Kinison introducing Carpenters records. I generally went through a spritz bottle of Chloraseptic every show. No one will ever hear tapes of me on WDRQ, and if you have one I’m going to have to kill you.

I frantically sent out audition tapes, and a few months later was offered a job at KYA, San Francisco. The WDRQ program director thought I was crazy taking that job. If I stuck it out in Detroit for a year I could get to Boston. A year? I’d sound like Kenny Rodgers by then. Plus, what’s wrong with San Francisco?

About a month later I received a letter from the program director. He had forwarded a petition some high school circulated to try to get me back on WDRQ. I still have it of course. It’s my most cherished keepsake from my radio days.

My first time back in Detroit since those days was when I was broadcasting for the Orioles in 1991. I rented a car and thought I’d tool around the old haunts. The neighborhood where WDRQ was located in my day was an absolute war zone. Not that it was ever Park Ave. to begin with, but now the street was littered with graffiti, squalor, and the folks screaming were not introducing Motown records. I haven’t been back since. Although, I must admit, I’m a little curious. Today it’s probably gentrified and gorgeous and all the apartments have been refurbished – now with hardwood floors and the meth labs removed – and it’s the happening place to live in Detroit. Or it’s been razed to the ground.  Either way, there should be a plaque -- to WDRQ, or, as I used to call it on the air -- W-Dreck.

This was a re-post from four years ago.  For some reason my stories of getting bitch slapped in radio are very popular.  

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Friday Questions

If Friday Questions are here can the weekend be far behind?

Rod is up first.

What did you think of the recent Modern Family episode that took place entirely on Claire Dunphy's laptop?

As a computer illiterate, and a fan of the show, I enjoyed it immensely. As a writer, are these "gimmick" episodes hard to conceive? I'm thinking all the way back to the MASH episode "The Interview" which was also completely different than the standard MASH format at the time, but highly successful.

I enjoyed it and applaud their willingness to experiment and break the format. My only issues with it are it’s impossible to have FaceTime with two people at once. And there were times things flashed on and off so fast I had trouble keeping up.

The “gimmick” aspect didn’t bother me because I thought it was well done, and it was only a half hour. I know I will outrage some readers but I got real tired of the gimmick of BIRDMAN. All it did was distract me from following any real emotional story. Especially since it was all trickery. The movie was not filmed in one continuous shot. It was all stitched together by computer programs. So after twenty minutes the whole exercise just started feeling pretentious to me. (How did I get off on that rant?)

On MASH we did the "Point of View" episode, which worked out well.  The key to a successful gimmick episode is that a) the gimmick doesn't wear thin in five minutes and b) underneath you need a good solid story the audience can be invested in.  

Oh... and only do gimmick shows on rare occasions. 

COMMUNITY was another show that took chances, sometimes with inspired results. 

Julie has a question about extras:

Are extras told to say anything in particular in case of lip readers? And are they given any special requirements regarding how to act (act natural?), how to sit or stand, how much they can move, don't look at the camera (I noticed some do, and that some laugh at what the characters are doing or saying; are they told to?) The camera caught one extra wiping her eyelid with a finger as she was sitting next to Cliff at the bar. Made me laugh.

Extras are not told specifically what to silently say. But they are told exactly when to cross or where to sit. If not, invariably an extra will cross in front of the star just as he’s delivering a punchline.

Extras are also told not to look at the camera under any circumstances and not to bring attention to themselves. Doing so will result in almost immediate dismissal.

The real problem is when extras need to react. Cliff sets his nose on fire. The extras should take notice and silently react. Diane announces she and Sam are getting married. The extras should react. Some don’t. They just ignore what’s happening and go about their business.

I remember in an episode of the old ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN series there was a scene in the Daily Planet. Two crooks, wearing full lead helmets (because as everyone knows, Superman can’t see through lead) in business suits with fedoras walk down the hall. Two extras pass them and neither takes any notice. A pair of executives in lead helmets and that doesn’t catch their attention.

There are some people who make their living as an extra. They generally work for one studio or another. We did MASH at 20th and I saw our extras pop up all the time on 20th shows or movies.

KG has a question all the way from Germany.


Given the chance to choose, what kind of show would a network prefer: a successful drama or a successful comedy?


This is an easy one. No format of television is as potentially lucrative as a big hit sitcom.

First of all, they’re cheaper to produce than hours. And fans will watch repeat viewings. Once you know what happened in many of these serialized dramas you’re done. But you’ll watch favorite episodes of sitcoms over and over (and thank you by the way). 

And you can slot comedies any time of the day or night. Dramas tend to do better at night. Sitcoms are more versatile for filling holes in your schedule.

Ultimately, this is why sitcoms will never die. In success they’re just too profitable.

Carol asks:

Ken - if my community theatre ever got the rights to do your show A OR B?, think you'd be able to come to Pennsylvania to watch it? Would you even want to?

I would LOVE to come! A real good way to get me to come to your town is to have your local theater do A OR B? Seriously, contact me if you’re interested.

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