Albert Brooks and Rob Reiner, now both 76, have been best friends since high school, having met in the drama club at Beverly Hills High School. (Richard Dreyfuss was also in her class.) Both were what today might be called “Nepo babies,” as both fathers had successful careers in comedy — Rob as the son of the legendary Carl Reiner, creator of “Dick Van Dyke.” Show and Albert, the son of Harry Einstein (yes – his real name is Albert Einstein), a radio comedian who became famous as the character named Parkyakarkus. Harry might have risen to greater heights had he not suffered a fatal heart attack moments after appearing at a Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz roast in 1958. Eleven-year-old Albert was present that evening.
We learn these astonishing facts and much more in the HBO series “Albert Brooks: Defending My Life,” a love letter from Reiner to Brooks that premieres tonight at 8 p.m. and brings the two together in a restaurant booth to remember to remember the good old days and at the same time trace the traces of the past arc of Brooks’ long and varied career. We see him develop his voice as a stand-up – using props (a frog, stand-in for an elephant) and demanding scenarios (a mime who can’t keep his mouth shut) to deconstruct old-fashioned ideas about comedy and show business . (Brooks was meta before there was a word for it.)
Later, the documentary explores his film career, which emulated that of Woody Allen – neurotic Jewish author grappling with sex and death – but did so in a milder, some would say more thoughtful, manner that can only be described as Brooksian . The HBO project touches on films such as 1981’s Modern Romance, 1985’s Lost in America and 1991’s Defending Your Life, an exploration of purgatory that starred Meryl Streep. It’s also about his impressive work as an actor for other writers and directors, which includes his Oscar-nominated role in 1987’s “Broadcast News,” his voice acting role as Nemo’s father in 2003’s “Finding Nemo,” and his villainous role in ” Drive” from 2011.
caught up with Brooks and Reiner to discuss the indescribability of comedy, the fear of audience testing and the phone call from Stanley Kubrick that changed Brooks’ life.
I loved the documentary. First of all, what a great portrait of a wonderful friendship between you two. Very touching. And then of course Albert, your incredible career, just one incredible chapter at a time. So what happens now? Where did that come from?
ROB REINER: I reached out to Albert when My Dinner with Andre came out many years ago. I said, “Come on – you and me, we’ll sit in the deli and talk, and it’ll be my lunch with Albert.” He didn’t want to do it at the time. But then he said, “Okay, let’s try it.” Let’s do it.” So we went and did it. Listen, we’ve known each other for 60 years and we’re as close as two people can be. We lived in the same house together and stuff. I’m just glad that he finally said, “Okay, let’s try it.”
ALBERT BROOKS: Combine it with [my career] made more sense. I was amazed that we were even able to find some of these old clips.
REINER: What I say in the film is true. I always looked up to Albert. Just like Judd Apatow says: He’s the funniest man in the world. The hard part was that his career is just full of stuff. It’s just difficult to fit everything in.
Streams: But the holy grail of all comedies is that they leave you wanting more.
I imagine you’ve had a lot of conversations over the years about the math or science of comedy. Do you have any theories about what makes something funny?
Streams: NO.
REINER: We never talk about it. It’s just instinctive. Albert has an instinctive ability to find the funny in something. Jonathan Winters could do it. Albert does that.
Streams: I did an article for Esquire magazine in 1971: “Albert Brooks’ Famous School for Comedians.” Apparently there was no such place, but we took photos of campuses and I did a two-page “Comedy Talent Test” to see whether you were funny. And the whole point, of course, was that you can’t be funny.
REINER: You can’t teach comedy.
Streams: Esquire received 1,200 completed serious comedy tests.
REINER: That’s hysterical.
Streams: For a year I thought, “Should I do this?” But the point is, you can’t teach any of it. Acting classes can be great if you have a great teacher. They can help you with something. They can talk about underplay, they can talk about movement – but the funny thing is I don’t know where to start. I think it’s like being a great golfer. If I don’t meet you and you’re already 68, I don’t know what I can do.
But you had your fathers, right? Both of her fathers were legends in the Hollywood comedy scene. Have you asked her for advice?
Streams: No, because my father died when I was 11. I didn’t know enough what to ask him. I went to Rob’s father. When I wrote [the 1979 mockumentary feature] On “Real Life,” I went to him to direct because I was nervous about directing my first feature. He read it and said to me, “This is what you have to do.” I can’t pick it apart. This is your soul, your baby. You have to do it.” That was an important moment for me because not only did I follow his advice, but it also had a much deeper meaning: “Fight for yourself.”
REINER: As for me, I just observed how my father worked with other people. I didn’t sit with him and he said, “Well, son, this is what you do.” It was basically just watching him work with the actors. Albert sometimes came with me in the summer. We would watch it on The Dick Van Dyke Show. We sat around, hung around and watched them put a show together, and you learn from that. It’s not like a famous school for comedians.
Streams: There have been older famous comedians that I have met throughout my life and some of them enjoyed doing this. They would preach – the Alan King generation – and say, ‘You do this, this and that.’ You never pick up a bottle unless you look to your right.’ They had rules, and those rules didn’t make sense.
Wasn’t that a big part of what your standup was about? To break all those rules or somehow make fun of what you traditionally expect from a comedy?
Streams: I only did it to destroy it. That was exactly what breaking it was.
REINER: He was a deconstructionist. He took these things, deconstructed them and showed you what was silly about them. He mocked the dummy act or the guy who doesn’t have an elephant and he does the number with the frog. He made fun of all that stuff. He made fun of show business long before anyone else did.
Albert, one thing I learned from the documentary is that Steven Spielberg used to drive you around in his car and film you walking up to strangers. How did that happen?
Streams: I was 20 years old and met him, he was just starting out. He loved to take his 8mm camera and point it at me. I didn’t have another job.
REINER: This is a low paying job.
Streams: Very poorly paid. The first time anyone ate sushi [in L.A. on film], that was with Steven. We would go to Little Tokyo – because that’s where you had to go. And there was the Imperial Garden that I used in Modern Romance, which was the only sushi bar [in West L.A.] We bonded because we both liked it. We had never had or seen it before. We drove around and I improvised with people and he filmed it. I had fun.
I also learned that Columbia Pictures insisted that you add a psychiatrist scene to Modern Romance to explain why your character was so neurotic.
Streams: There used to be screenings that helped me finish the film. And there was no internet. Nobody left any reviews. It was absolutely safe. So we took the photo with us to San Francisco, where “Seems Like Old Times” with Goldie Hawn and Chevy Chase was also being shown. They said, “Tonight, after the feature, we have a preview of a special film for those who want to stay.” The audience that filled that theater for “Seems Like Old Times” was not the Modern Romance demographic . Many people stayed and the [feedback] Maps were terrible. They were supposed to throw a small party after the screening. They rented the basement of the Fairmont Hotel. There were appetizers and spirits, and all the gentlemen wanted to come back there to celebrate. But they went home. They didn’t even tell me. I’m up in the room and I’m like, “When’s the party?” “Oh, they’re back in Los Angeles.”
So, I come back and have this meeting and they pulled out the cards and it’s like I killed their mother. And they said, “Read this.” And I said, “I’m not going to read them.” And they said, “We’ll read them to you,” and they started reading these cards. “He has a good-looking girl, a nice car. What’s his problem?” I said, “I don’t mean that to be rude, but I don’t know. That shows behavior. I’m not sure what the problem is.” By the way, I could probably tell you today [what] The problem was, but I couldn’t tell you what day I made these films. I didn’t create it from a thoughtful perspective. I was just trying to put this crazy behavior on screen. And they basically said, “Add a shrink scene and explain it.” And I said, “I can’t do that.” And then they said, “If you don’t do that, you don’t have a second week,” which one Language for “There is no support for this film unless you get this.” [feedback] Maps fixed.” So that’s what happened.
But then you got a call from Stanley Kubrick.
Streams: Yes, that was a lifesaver. He got this film. He had shown it to a big audience in London and he turned it around and wanted to call me and I had to be there. It was like taking a call from the president: “He’s going to call you this minute.” Now I’m talking to him for a long time and he’s talking to me about jealousy. This was 20 years before he made “Eyes Wide Shut.” Obviously this was an important topic for him. He said: “This is the jealousy film I always wanted to make. How did you do it?” “How did I do it? Tell me how Hal talks, I’ll tell you how I did it.”
But the conversation was about the movie business, and before that moment, no one had ever talked to me about the movie business. He said, “You don’t understand – when a film doesn’t work, you blame yourself.” But that decision is made long before the film’s release. Whether they reach people is a corporate decision.” He said 2001 was dumped. They didn’t believe in it. And he said a disc jockey in New York went to a preview and went crazy and talked about it nonstop like it was a record he discovered. One thing led to another and it was duly published.
He said by the time that happened, the decision was made that it wasn’t going to work. We always blame ourselves. I still do. If I do something and it doesn’t work, I feel like kicking myself, but he said, “When you’re in a business like this, when you’re in corporations, their advertising budgets make decisions that you don’t have.” Control over – then it’s done and you’ll never be able to do anything about it again.”
REINER: At the end of the film, Albert says, “People ask me, ‘Why don’t you take the easy way?'” He says, “I only see what I can see.” I can’t see any other road. I only know one road.” That’s what makes him brilliant and unique – because he goes his way, only his way, and no one else can go that way.
Streams: When I was having trouble at Columbia, I was just sitting alone in the checkout line and was really depressed, and this person was sitting next to me, and they were really a commercial success. They made big commercials and said it in a nice way: “Why don’t you just do what they want?” That’s a real, valid form of show business.
REINER: A lot of people do it like that.
Streams: That’s true, and if you can do it that way and are happy, you should do it. But when you do personal things, and that’s why you did it, it never works out well – because you’re putting something on the screen that you don’t understand and don’t believe in.
However, some of your acting performances in other people’s films, and I’m thinking of Finding Nemo, have been exactly “what they want.”
Streams: Well, Finding Nemo was an amazing thing because it became the highest-grossing animated film at the time. But before it came out, word at the studio was that this would be Pixar’s first failure. I don’t think they were thinking about Ellen at the time [DeGeneres], who didn’t have her show yet, and I were comparable to some of the other leads in the other Pixar films. The feeling was that we won’t reach the golden ring. But it was just starting, and it continued, and we were all excited, but I think it took her completely by surprise.
And then I wanted to ask you about your last film, “Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World” from 2005. What was the impulse behind making this film, whose title alone met with great resistance from the studios?
Streams: I wanted to use the word “Muslim” in a way that was acceptable and safe. I wrote this in maybe 2003 or 2004, a few years after 9/11. Right after 9/11, I was so filled with fear of that word that all I was trying to think was, “How can I deal with this?” So I made this film. I hadn’t played “Albert Brooks,” the comedy character, since “Real Life.” And I thought, “It’s perfect.” I’m going to bring this guy back and it’s going to be about finding out what makes this part of the world laugh. “I’m the idiot in the movie. I’m not making fun of any Muslim. And I thought, “This is going to be great, because here’s this title” – and the title made people go, “Uh-oh.” But then they saw the movie and no one was afraid. The film was scheduled to be shown at the Toronto Film Festival. The trailer was made. Then the Danish cartoon controversy happened this summer.
And that was it. They wouldn’t release the film with the word “Muslim” in the title. They said, “Well, the picture is fine. We call it Looking for Comedy.” And I said, “No. I did it for the title. That’s why I did it.” So I got kicked out of the studio and ended up at this little Warner Independent. They weren’t that enthusiastic.
The late Steve Bing, who financed my film, a very sweet guy. I ask him, “So how much does the TV cost?” “Oh no, that’s old fashioned. We won’t do that. Are you familiar with the Internet?” “Yes.” “Well, we’re starting with a website called JDate. It’s a Jewish dating site.” I said, “What floor are we on? Because I wanted to jump out the window.”
Finally, would you make another film? Do you have a script?
Streams: Well, I have ideas. There were so many difficult aspects of making films, but one of the greatest joys was finally getting them to theaters, and it was so exciting for me to watch a packed theater go crazy over something I made. And if I make another film at this point, I really don’t know if I’ll be guaranteed a trip to the theater anymore
REINER: You have to do it just because you enjoy making a film.
Streams: That’s right. I have to let go of the release part. So when I get there I will do it again.
The interview has been edited for length and clarity.