The fact that Steve Martin was the most famous stand-up act of the modern era, a man who could pack auditoriums with hundreds of thousands of people, seems almost an afterthought in "Born Standing Up." It's a blur, with such cultural touchstones as Saturday Night Live garnering a page-and-a-half out of the book's 200 or so pages. When describing some of his biggest shows, the predominent feeling is fatigue. "The Jerk" and his career in movies, almost a pleasant afterthought.
It's in his development as a performer where "Born Standing Up" flourishes as both a memoir of a developing performer, and as a fascinating look at where the hell someone like Steve Martin comes from. He starts at the beginning, living as a child with an emotionally distant and sporadically abusive father who's dreams of stardom were squashed but ressurected through his child. He comes from Knotts Berry Farm, of all places, where he was part of a Vaudeville act that played on the grounds. He comes from the classrooms of the USC Philosophy Department, from the counterculture ramblings of his peers and, eventually, from the run down stages of a thousand stages across the country. And this, the infancy of a man who many agree is somewhat of a national treasure, is where Steve Martin's heart is. It's hard not to envision the white-haired comic smiling whistfully as he types about his days working at a magic shop, or working in the theater.
"Born Standing Up" follows Martin's career starting at 13 when he started working, illegally as it turned out, as a program salesman at Disneyland and continues up until he walked off a stage after performing for 100,000 people who knew his act frontwards and backwards, and never doing stand-up again. It's a strange final scene to a book devoted to the demons and delights of persuing and pushing the medium of stand-up.
And oh, the demons. One of the most striking passages in the book comes early on when Martin describes a beating at the hands of his father. He describes it simply, but leaves little to the imagination and then follows it up with this passage: "I have heard it said that a complicated childhood can lead to a life in the arts. I tell you this story of my father and me to let you know I am qualified to be a comedian." For those who know Martin only as the bumbling father from his family films, the Fred McMurray of our time, you've missed a good part of Martin's career as a playwrite and author. It's simple but compelling passages like the one above that really shine in this memoir. Martin doesn't overanalyze, he doesn't exaggerate. It's a compelling style, especially in an age where memoirs spell out more than we ever want to know, quite often.
It's also fascinating to see Martin's influences and how he ultimately rejected them. His stand-up was avant gard and got that way through a lot of thought. But what's great to read, and why I think Martin wrote the book, is how much fun he had trying to figure out what he was going to do. The man was a struggling artist, and that section of his story glows with life. There's women, some of whom he loves. There are friends who drink beers and talk philosophy on car hoods ("At one point, we concluded it was impossible to be having this conversation"). There are goofy stories and the butterflies after appearing on the Tonight Show for the first time. There's the victory of cracking up an audience but also the self-ritous and beautiful pain of performing before no one, or bombing.
And what's even worse is the tone the book takes once Martin - who aspired to be a teacher, a playwrite, a musician and many other professions - finally dedicated himself to stand-up and the stars started to align in his name. He describes obsessing over his act and the lonliness the road induced. He never out and out says why he isolated himself in hotel rooms or what happened to his friendships, though he does have a fascinating story about developing panic attacks. He withdraws as he becomes more of a public figure, and by the time he's a star, he's about hollowed out. It gets to the point where when he finally leaves standup for film, it almost seems like a hollow victory, like there's nothing left, and maybe there isn't.
You have to love honesty like that, and I also love this book and plan to re-read it. It's funny, though in an inside baseball kind of way, and endlessly interesting. When he dropped the Wild and Crazy Guy act, Martin seems like the party guest you never want to leave - self depreciating, witty and somehow noble.
Good book. Go read it.
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