Buried somewhere underneath newspaper headlines chronicling vice
presidential debate results and Hilary Duff’s latest adventures in
‘tweenybop,’ a miniscule blurb notes the passing of a comedic
giant. And perhaps it is fitting–Rodney Dangerfield got no respect
in life, and not enough in death.
The first time I saw Dangerfield was in “Ladybugs,” an abysmal
comedy featuring the kid from Seaquest cross-dressing to play on a
girl’s soccer team.
“Ladybugs” sucked, but there was something irresistible about
Dangerfield, a living cartoon character with bugged-out eyes and
gravel in his voice.
Feature films were never kind to Dangerfield. With the possible
exception of “Caddyshack,” his filmography reads like the
late-night schedule for Comedy Central. Apart from that immortal
duffer classic, Dangerfield’s flicks were theatrical bombs that
rose from their ashes on cable TV.
Nobody played the hapless loser with such aplomb. Other, more
telegenic comics-cum-actors tried and failed. It’s hard to believe
now, but the rotund Dan Akroyd who sells HDTV packages now was a
studly Blues Brother then. When Dangerfield said he was so ugly
that the doctor slapped his mother instead, all it took was one
glance to affirm it.
Time has been kind to his films, in all their corny glory.
Particularly noteworthy for fans of cult cinema is the 1986 college
flick, “Back to School.”
Though hardly equivalent to the Old and New Testaments of
college life (a.k.a. “Animal House” and “Old School”), Dangerfield
shines as Thornton Melon, a street-smart businessman attending
college with his son.
As every college student’s academic wet dream, Thornton
lambastes his haughty business professor during a lecture by
describing the real-life economics of bribery, lying and false
promises. It’s Dangerfield at his everyman finest, and eclipsed in
comic value only by the ridiculous stunt double hired to perform
Thornton’s flipping, spinning platform dive (don’t ask).
Dangerfield was at his best live. A talk-show host’s dream
guest, he had a standing invitation from Letterman, Leno, Conan and
Craig. The last time I saw him on television, Dangerfield simply
dropped in on “The Late Show.” Kilborn gave him two segments, even
though Dangerfield wasn’t plugging anything.No movies, no stand-up
specials, nothing except 81 years of memories and laughter.
“I grew up poor. I was so poor that if I wasn’t born a boy
I’d’ve had nothin’ to play with.”
He had told that joke since Jesus walked the earth, and it still
had the crowd howling. It was his rumbling delivery, aw-shucks grin
and beady-eyed pause that kept it fresh.
Comedy is a fickle mistress, but Dangerfield never left her
embrace. While the Eddie Murphys and Dice Men of yore languish in
respective hells of family films and “I Love the ’80s,” Dangerfield
kept cool. With his passing, another grand master of the American
one-liner has taken his final curtain call.
Dangerfield, George and Gracie, Uncle Miltie–they dealt humor
well before Lenny Bruce shattered the profanity barrier. Because of
Bruce, the aforementioned Dice Man could describe his nether
regions in explicit detail and bookend the conjecture with a
liberal use of the f-bomb.
The old-timers couldn’t. Sex gags were phrased ambiguously
enough to avoid censorship, but with the proper wink and nudge to
ensure the unique laughter resulting from a shared dirty joke. It’s
not easy, and I should know–I do the same thing every week in this
very column (and this very office).
Thanks for the laughs, Rodney. Next time you make the rounds on
Comedy Central, I’ll be sure to give my respect.
