"I remember the first ‘Update’ I did on Saturday Night Live. They had big
cameras back then, and you were looking into a huge lens. I wasn't nervous at
all because I looked right through that lens and imagined the faces of the
seven funniest people I knew. It never occurred to me that millions of people
were watching. What I did was just for the eight of us."—Chevy Chase,
quoted in Brian McKinley, “Chevy Chase Quotes: Real Life Clark Griswold Talks National Lampoons,” Yahoo! Voices,
Feb 3, 2011
He’s Chevy Chase and you’re not—unless you wouldn’t mind being an irredeemable jerk
who had managed to tee off an amazing number of people in an entertainment
community more than used to dealing with egos that can’t fit through the door.
Few things bother me as much as people who waste
their considerable talent, and by that measure few people get under my skin as much as Cornelius
Crane Chase, born on this date 70 years ago. Remembering his
glorious first season on Saturday Night
Live, it’s hard for me to think of him being this age—but it’s even harder
to think of what he could have become.
For a guy who was valedictorian of his high school
class, Chase has managed to behave in remarkably stupid ways over the years.
Only some of his behavior can be attributed to prolonged substance abuse
(in fact, in many ways, he’s as big a jerk now as he was before rehab).
What can you say about an actor who, after his
success with the comic suspense film Foul
Play (1978), was hailed as the new Cary Grant—only to tick off the first Cary Grant with ill-advised jokes
about the matinee idol’s sexual orientation? That he ended up considerably
poorer after an out-of-court settlement—and that he never became “the new Cary
Grant.”
What can you say about a comic talent so huge, so
much in a zone (as indicated by
today’s “Quote of the Day”), that for a 1975 New
York magazine cover story, NBC executives crowed that not only did they
have in their stable “the first real potential successor to Johnny Carson,"
but thought he would guest-host The
Tonight Show within six months? That he probably blew his chance the second
he said, “I'd never be tied down for five years interviewing TV
personalities." Or that, when his film career went south in the early
1990s and he was willing to be so
“tied down,” he promptly proved Carson’s tart assessment that the younger man "couldn't
ad-lib a fart after a baked-bean dinner," in perhaps the most ill-advised,
embarrassing part of his career—getting canceled five weeks after his debut?
What can you say about a guy who, before hitting it
big, worked as a cab driver, truck driver, motorcycle messenger, waiter,
busboy, construction worker, audio engineer, produce manager in a supermarket,
salesman in a wine store and theater usher? That as soon as the acclaim and
money came his way, he became notorious for lording it over interns, as well as
insulting and abusing screenwriters, other backstage personnel, and even
fellow cast members.
What can you say about a star who enjoyed one
brilliant late-night TV season and a few pretty profitable, mildly amusing
films (Caddyshack, National Lampoon’s Vacation)? That he
made one lame film after another following that, and that he blamed agents, co-stars, almost
anyone but himself for these failures.
What can you say about a tall, good-looking, funny
guy on top of the world at age 32? That in his late 60s, with another
chance—perhaps his last—to make a major impact on TV, in the cast of Community, he blew up even this gig
with potshots shots at the show’s creator, scriptwriters—virtually anything that moved.
And that the one thing more pathetic than someone
who didn’t live up to his potential years ago is someone who, continually given
chances to get it right, keeps repeating his disastrous behavior.
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