Martin Short Needs No Defense

SNL Du Cinema #2 (sort of)

Martin Short is very funny. This is apparently one of a precious handful of broad-based unification issues, at least on the internet – which is probably some kind of bubble, but one prone to rancor and divisiveness nonetheless. Slate contributor Dan Kois knows this firsthand, having written what may be (and was certainly treated as) the world’s first Martin Short hit piece. Of course, he likely knew this already, having written a notorious piece about so-called cultural vegetables a while back. I am truly not writing a too-rare edition of my newsletter to take Dan Kois to task for his incorrect Martin Short opinions. That sounds like his problem, not mine, and as far as problems go, not liking Martin Short doesn’t strike me as a huge one in the scheme of things. (Full disclosure: I’m not sure if “we’re mutuals on Twitter” is worthy of full disclosure.) (Plus, I need to thank him: Though I try to read every memoir by SNL alumni, I haven’t yet read Short’s, from which Kois heavily sources a lot of his analysis/psychoanalyzing of Short’s work. This reminded me to pick up a copy.)

I’m more interested in what this piece about Martin Short glanced upon without really investigating, because – for better or, arguably, for worse – this was a piece where the writer interrogates his own personal reaction to Short, moreso than thinking a little more broadly about his career and its cultural context. This is what criticism often involves, of course, but I know as well as anyone that sometimes it can also lead to a kind of myopia. What Kois personally thinks about Short’s comedy style is both the hookiest, grabbiest part of the piece, and its least interesting element once the outrage fades.

What Kois gets at in turning over his dislike of Short’s work is something I think is actually pretty inarguable: Martin Short does not have a lot of great movies or TV shows to his name. This is not the same as saying he has never appeared in good movie shows, or given good performances; Kois even acknowledges Short’s dabbling in less overtly comedic guest-star roles, as well as his stage work, voiceover gigs, and TV specials. But Kois is correct that two different eponymous Short TV shows failed to get much traction. And it’s also true that there isn’t really a signature Martin Short movie, the way that most of his fellow SNL stars can point to a few calling cards that sort of explain their comic persona and what’s funny or interesting about them, whether or not the movie reps their bes twork. Chevy Chase has Fletch and Vacation. BilL Murray has Groundhog Day. Will Ferrell has Elf and Anchorman (or Talladega Nights, or Step Brothers; he’s got plenty, take your pick). Eddie Murphy has Beverly Hills Cop and Coming to America, among others. Even certified weirdo Dan Aykroyd has Ghostbusters if you’re feeling generous or Nothing But Trouble if you’re feeling nasty. Short’s SNL co-workers on that one-off mid-’80s season—all-stars who nonetheless did not become Murphy-level superstars—have them too: Billy Crystal has City Slickers (in its squishy, midlife-crisis, not-that-funny glory, more of a “Billy Crystal movie” than the too-genuinely-good When Harry Met Sally), Christopher Guest has Waiting for Guffman.

Martin Short has Clifford.

It’s the rule that proves the exception. Martin Short’s Ghostbusters is his Nothing But Trouble. Sure, you could avert your eyes from the movie where Short plays a malevolent 10-year-old, pointing instead to Three Amigos, for the historical importance of placing Short alongside pals Chevy Chase and Steve Martin, or Innerspace for the incongruity of placing a sketch-comedy star into a sci-fi comedy by Joe Dante. But neither of these movies were actually big hits—and they’re probably his closest projects to enduring success (as evidenced by the fact that many people have no idea that neither was a big hit). Neither was Pure Luck (sorry, Aunt Kathy! I made you take me to that one in the movie theaters, and that was my bad). Three Fugitives did better than you might have expected, but it’s not exactly a beloved comedy classic. That leaves Clifford. Almost everyone leaves Clifford, in fact—or they did until it started gaining steam as a cult classic at some point during its extended life on home video and cable, the dark side of the long tail enjoyed by Three Amigos.

I’m not one of the Clifford guys (or gals). I watched it out of curiosity, appreciated its transgressions of good taste and good sense, laughed a lot at a few very funny scenes, and found it largely off-putting and misguided. Hell, that’s part of what I liked about it. I gave it a shot, and I wasn’t sorry. But I can’t imagine watching it again, even for an in-depth analysis of movies from SNL players—a title which for Short, great as he was on the show, always feels borderline honorary to me. In a Vulture interview heavily cited by the Kois piece that I will proceed to cite some here, Short admits the preferential treatment that he, Crystal, Guest, and Harry Shearer received as unusually established talent joining the show without a long-term contract. He also talks about using that treatment to get one or two big pieces on the show most weeks, and be more or less done by halfway through the 90-minute episode. I imagine that’s why it feels like I’ve seen so much of his SNL work despite never watching those episodes front-to-back; as much of the spotlight as he commanded, there’s only so much he could produce in 17 episodes in a 10-performer ensemble.

Anyway, what I can imagine doing is clips of Clifford again, just as I’m certain I’ll watch bits and pieces of Short’s talk-show appearances over the years, and sample more of his SNL sketches (I don’t think I’ve actually seen them all; the ubiquity of Ed Grimley and Synchronized Swimming and Nathan Thurm in compilation just makes it feel that way). At some point, I imagine I’ll re-enjoy his very supporting part as a maniacal drama teacher in Get Over It (watch this space????), or his bit in Inherent Vice (as Kois mentions, his only real in-person movie part of substance for the better part of two decades), or delight all over again in his bellowing on Arrested Development, where he out-cartoons a whole lot of already-cartoony performers. Short is clearly more than a character actor—bigger, more noticeable, less prone blending in with a movie’s particular tone or mood—but he’s also highly unlikely star in his own Elf (though he seems fairly likely to play a literal elf at some point).

Only Murders in the Building has come closer than most of his projects, providing a regular outlet where Short can inhabit a recognizable character that plays to his demonstrative, sometimes manic, super-committed strengths as a motormouth and a physical performer. Even that show, however, doesn’t feel like it belongs to Short, because it’s performing the exact same matching service for Steve Martin (who has plenty of super-successful calling-card vehicles, in a variety of gears) and Selena Gomez. Kois refers to the show as meta-aware of Short’s tendency for muchness, and I suppose it is, but it’s really just a show that drills into what’s both funny and sad about that performative, always-on sensibility.

Back in that Vulture interview, before Only Murders hit, Short mused: “I’ve always wanted to do the interesting thing, and being in a sustained hit isn’t always the interesting thing.” Easy to say after the fact, sure, following a couple of canceled TV shows and putting all of your chips on Clifford. Also, though, deeply refreshing, given how many of Short’s peers have floundered (as has Short himself) in starring vehicles—and, in the case of folks like Billy Crystal, while making movies that are just as bad as Clifford without being so singularly, wonderfully horrifying. (Here, Aykroyd pumps his fist in triumph, having made a movie that is worse and more horrifying than Clifford.)

Short essentially arrived early at the conclusion reached by later-period SNL cast members: That being good at comedy, especially sketch comedy, does not necessarily prepare you for a satisfying career as a movie lead, and sometimes you can build a better career from popping in and out, sometimes unexpectedly: an I Think You Should Leave sketch here, a surprisingly weighty Sundance role there, an old-fashioned Newsradio-style sitcom ensemble if you can swing it. It’s not an accident that so many of Short’s roles lean heavily on his muchness, even when, yes, sometimes there isn’t much more than that at play. That he’s good at being on talk shows is a feature, not a bug: His work often exists in the moment and joyfully risks turning ephemeral: Live performance that will never be exactly duplicated outside of the room, talk show appearances booked for a fleeting promotion, cameos or guest spots on shows that will head into the content churn. He would have made a terrific UCB performer, I bet, doing the funniest bits you’ve ever seen in a basement, for free, on Sunday nights, for the sheer fun of it. I count myself lucky that I’ve seen so many SNL cast members from approximately 2003 through 2008 perform this way, so maybe I feel grateful that Short is able to translate to a broader stage. (Amy Poehler has done this on the odd awards show or other public appearance, but honestly, if you haven’t seen her do improv live, you’re missing some of her genius.) If there isn’t much subtext or meaning to mine from this type of material, well, Short seems to prefer it that way, based on how he hand-waves psychoanalysis of his work in that 2018 interview. And in Short’s ability to perform his comedy, perform about his own comedy, letting his audience bring what they may, even if they bring irritation, has a rare and delicate purity.