A Pink Floyd for the End of the Century.

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: SEPTEMBER 01, 1997
Time: 12:00
Tran: 090101np.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: Albert Brooks
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 21:06

TERRY GROSS, HOST: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross.

We're wrapping up our comedy series with an interview with Albert Brooks. Our film critic John Powers calls Brooks "the funniest man in America and our leading satirist of middle class self-indulgence."

Brooks' latest film "Mother" just came out on video. Brooks also wrote, directed, and starred in the films "Real Life," "Modern Romance," "Lost in America," and "Defending Your Life." He also appeared in the film "Taxi Driver" as a campaign worker and co-starred in "Broadcast News" as an insecure journalist.

He started his career as a standup comic. I spoke with Albert Brooks last December, when his movie Mother was released. He directed and co-wrote the film, and stars as a middle-aged man in the early stages of a divorce. He knows he's screwed up and he blames his insecurities on his hyper-critical mother, played by Debbie Reynolds.

In an attempt to understand what went wrong in his relationship with his mother, he moves back in with her. As soon as he walks in the door, he knows he's in trouble.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP, "MOTHER")

DEBBIE REYNOLDS, ACTRESS, AS MOTHER: "Want something to eat?"

ALBERT BROOKS, ACTOR, AS SON: No.

REYNOLDS: I made some salad and I have some meatloaf.

BROOKS: I don't eat meat.

REYNOLDS: Oh, that's right, there's Jeff (ph) who loves it.

BROOKS: I'll have some salad.

REYNOLDS: Oh, don't have salad just for my sake.

BROOKS: No, no, I'll have it.

REYNOLDS: Are you sure you want salad?

BROOKS: Yes, I want salad.

REYNOLDS: Not just for my sake.

BROOKS: Mother, don't get into this food stuff now, please. Just give me a little salad.

REYNOLDS: Oh, I know what I could do. I could scrape the top off the meatloaf.

BROOKS: What would that do?

REYNOLDS: Well, there wouldn't be as much meat then.

BROOKS: But it's still meat. What difference does it make how much you have?

REYNOLDS: You really don't like meat, huh?

BROOKS: No mother, I don't like eating cows.

REYNOLDS: Oh...

LAUGHTER

... honey, everything comes from a cow. Everything.

GROSS: What inspired the idea of having the character that you play move back in with his mother?

ALBERT BROOKS, AUTHOR, COMIC, WRITER, DIRECTOR: Well, one of the most fun things about a movie is that you can do things that you probably would never do. And you know, the characters that I've played in my motion pictures are very earnest and try to explore to the nth degree what they, you know, these, you know -- in Lost in America actually selling your house and buying a motor home, and "Real Life," actually filming a family and burning their house down.

And so, this is what I think sort of is, you know, part of what these characters are about. So, the idea that in order to really figure out your mother, you've got to go back and recreate the situation where you grew up and, you know, and of course, my character calls it "the experiment," and actually play it out.

Much better than just phoning her up and saying: "who are you?"

GROSS: The classic Jewish mother in a lot of American fiction and movies is the critical, domineering, overprotective mother. The mother in your movie is critical, but she doesn't care quite enough about the son, so she's not -- she's not domineering and overprotective. The son almost wishes that she was.

BROOKS: Right. Nor, do I think this is a Jewish mother because the Jewish mother is too -- is -- you know, such a cliche of exactly what you say. And I don't -- I wasn't out to make it a particular religion.

I think that, you know, there are two kinds of mothers on the planet, no matter what religion or who they are, and that's either the mothers that think everything their children do are perfect, or the other kind. And this is about the other kind. They can be Catholics, Protestants, Jews or atheists. It's just the idea that, you know, they're critical.

However, the real mothers -- the mothers that I have met, once the children leave, they don't want them back. Who would want them back? Ever see a bird when the other birds leave the nest? They tear down the nest and find a tree and don't tell the other birds where that tree is.

So it's -- you know, the idea that they want children back is -- it's silly to me. And that's the cliche part. Being critical isn't.

GROSS: So was your mother really critical?

BROOKS: Well, she's, you know, loving, but she's -- it's not -- and I wouldn't even call it "critical." My mother has always sort of been puzzled why I'm who I am. And I think one of the reasons is is that if my mother and I -- if there was one thing we didn't share, it probably was she didn't get my sense of humor.

You know, sense of humor is a very personal thing.

GROSS: Mm-hmm.

BROOKS: And you can love a child and still have no idea why other people are laughing at them. So I think that my mother was always sort of -- I mean, I know from doing -- I must have done 50 Tonight shows when, you know, Carson was hosting and the audience would laugh their head off, and my mother and I would always have the same conversation after every show, which was basically, I would say: "did you see it?"

And she would say: "oh, honey, it was wonderful. What did Johnny think?" And I would say: "well, he liked it. But did you like it?" "No, of course, honey, but Johnny liked it?"

You know, so that was gonna be my autobiography title: "what Did Johnny Think?"

GROSS: Now, there's some very funny things about food in the new movie. You know, your character comes back to the mother's house and she saves a lot of food in the freezer...

BROOKS: Yes.

GROSS: ... where it's guaranteed to taste really bad after a while.

BROOKS: Yes.

GROSS: And she buys all those horrible store-brands. In the movie, it's "Sweet Tooth Sherbet."

BROOKS: Yes, I made that up.

GROSS: Oh, it's perfect, though.

BROOKS: Yes.

GROSS: So is this -- was this a problem at your home, too? That your mother would...

BROOKS: Yes, that part ...

GROSS: ... buy all the cheap brands.

BROOKS: ... that part is -- my mother could -- we could afford anything, but she just didn't believe that there was, you know, like Debbie says in the movie, "honey, there's no difference. The man in the store told me it's just the label."

I think that my mother probably has said that to me. I really think that somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt that all food came from the same vat in Chicago and they just, you know, put on a different label somewhere.

GROSS: Did you ever go to the...

BROOKS: We had...

GROSS: Yeah, go ahead.

BROOKS: ... I'm saying, I mean, we had brands of food I never -- they looked like the real thing. I mean, like, the cookies had -- you know, they were black with white in the middle, but it was like, you know, "Soreos." It was one letter off.

LAUGHTER

And, you know, there's a thing that I love in this movie -- this sherbet that's been in the freezer for about 16 years, and you can't even see it anymore. And I say to, you know, my mother in the movie, I say: "look at this crap that sits on the top" and she has named it. She says: "oh no, honey. You look under the protective ice."

GROSS: Yeah, I love the "protective ice."

BROOKS: I said: "you've named this stuff? I can't believe it." But my mother still, to this day, my mother has this Neapolitan ice cream. There aren't three colors anymore. It's just one color it's blended in to. I don't know what that color is even, but the chocolate and vanilla and strawberry have long ago stopped being divided. They just are like a light yellow.

GROSS: Albert Brooks is my guest, and his new movie comedy is called Mother.

The roles that you write for yourself are often characters that are very self-absorbed and very selfish in their own way and don't see their own flaws.

BROOKS: Hmm. That's a new twist. I'm just trying to think if I agree with that. I don't know if that's necessarily true about being selfish. I think they're...

GROSS: Well, Modern Romance, it's true.

BROOKS: Oh, Modern Romance -- well Modern Romance wasn't so much selfish. I mean, there's a guy trapped in a relationship that, you know, he shouldn't be in and he's desperately trying to hang on for dear life. I mean, it's not like, you know, if he were in control -- if he actually was with somebody that, you know, he was supposed to be with, I don't think he would be selfish. He's only selfish because she's -- you know, she's -- has no -- really shouldn't be with him and I think he senses that...

GROSS: Right.

BROOKS: ... and gets panicked, you know.

GROSS: I guess what I'm trying to ask is: do you want to play characters that are completely lovable? Or that, you know, you love them, you identify with them, but then you also stand back a little bit and say: but wait a minute, he's going too far with this; or he's too self-absorbed.

BROOKS: Well, are you asking me: do I want to?

GROSS: Yeah, yeah, yeah -- when you're creating the character.

BROOKS: I'll tell you -- you know, I think it's very dangerous if you start to write characters where you say: "I want to be loved." I think the thing that you do is you tell a story.

GROSS: Mm-hmm.

BROOKS: And when you create a story, the character needs to be faithful to that story. I mean, let's take Modern Romance. Here was an obsessive relationship. A guy's in a wrong relationship and drives this woman crazy. There'd be no way to tell that story and make that character lovable. I mean, you couldn't -- then you just shouldn't make that movie.

So I sort of like, you know, figure out what story I want to tell, and then the characters need to, you know, be appropriate to the story.

GROSS: In some of your early work as a comic, back when you were doing standup...

BROOKS: Mm-hmm.

GROSS: ... and in some of your early movie work, you made fun of a certain show-biz kind of comedy.

BROOKS: Yeah.

GROSS: And I'm wondering, you must have grown up with that. Your father was a comic.

BROOKS: Yeah. Well, my father died when I was 11, but I still, you know, remember that it was OK to, you know, be funny. And I watched somebody do it for a living. Even though he pretty much was out of it by the time I was born, I used to listen. He was a radio comedian. He went under the name of "Park Yourcarcass." And he was a Greek dialect comedian, and that's the character he played.

And even though he was off the air when I was born, we used to have these huge, you know, those big 16-inch records of all the radio shows, and I would listen to it and I sort of was able to see into show business early, you know. Somehow I got it that it might not be exactly what you think it is.

GROSS: How did you father, who I assume was Jewish -- his name was Einstein -- how did he get to play a Greek dialect comic?

BROOKS: Well, he played, you know, during the '40s when he was on the air. I think being an immigrant coming to America was a very popular thing. And I -- I don't know how exactly or where -- I know he was born in Boston and he was -- he worked in the advertising business and I think he just did this character for fun, and then Eddie Cantor heard him once at a dinner and actually I think thought he was really Greek, and said -- talked to him slowly, like you wouldn't understand him: "would-you-like-to-come-to-New-York-and-be-on-my-show?"

And my father said: "you can talk faster. I'm born in America."

And I don't know why he came up with that, but I think the idea of the poor immigrant who comes to America was something that, you know, obviously he could -- he liked.

GROSS: When you started doing comedy, your comedy was -- it came out of who you were as a real person.

BROOKS: Yeah.

GROSS: And a lot of your monologues were pretty autobiographical.

BROOKS: Right. I never told jokes. I don't think I've ever told a joke in my life.

GROSS: Right. So this more autobiographical approach was really different from where your father was coming from, where he didn't even play...

BROOKS: Absolutely.

GROSS: ... his own ethnic group, let alone talk about his life.

BROOKS: Absolutely. And that's exactly right. Yeah.

GROSS: Did you feel that you had any models for what you wanted to do, a more autobiographical approach?

BROOKS: No, I'll tell you, when I was very young, I remember watching Jack Benny and thinking that this -- this man figured it all out. Jack Benny really never told jokes. I mean, look what he did. He would stare and people would laugh, and his persona was so clear. It was so -- the audience understood it so well that he really, you know, he was amazing. He was the world's great minimalist.

GROSS: Is that what you were trying for? To do very little and have it be very effective?

BROOKS: Or just sort of a -- you know, those old guys used to play themselves. It -- this is not a new thing. Jerry Seinfeld and stuff -- this is one of the original things that radio and television did. George Burns and Jack Benny and Fred Allen -- it was their lives we were laughing at. So I think it was, you know, it just showed you that you didn't have to stand up there and say: "my wife is fat." There were other things to do.

But actually, the kind of comedy I did, I really didn't see before I did it. So I didn't have a role model in that somebody was making fun of the -- I sort of was making fun of the institutions that were still going on.

When I first started, you know, I tried out everything I ever did on national television. There weren't any clubs to even go to if I wanted to. So, it was interesting because I sort of would think up things in my house and drive down to NBC and do 'em on "The Dean Martin Show."

And at that point, if you were funny, all people would say to you is: "when are you going to Vegas?" And you know, that's all they associated with. And I tried to sort of change that. You just -- at least for myself -- I mean, not, you know, in any great sense that "I'm gonna change the world," but I just sort of -- I remember I always would say when people would say "are you funny?" "Yes, but I'm," you know, "but it's not -- but I'm trying to be real too."

I mean, I was trying to give dignity to this idea of doing standup because it had none. Everyone who ever, you know, heard that you did comedy just thought that you were just sitting there with a big cigar and opening for Frank Sinatra.

GROSS: My guest is Albert Brooks. His latest movie is called Mother. We'll talk more after a break.

This is FRESH AIR.

My guest is actor, director, and screenwriter Albert Brooks. His new movie is called Mother. Brooks started his career as a standup comic. Early in his career, he did standup on the TV variety shows like Dean Martin and Merv Griffin. His contemporaries thought he was funny, but on the variety shows, he played to a predominantly older audience that often didn't know what to make of him.

Here's an example.

BROOKS: Well, the first thing I ever did was a ventriloquist act called "Danny and Dave," which was basically the world's worst ventriloquist. He was introduced as, you know, a real ventriloquist and his mouth moved more than the dummy, and the dummy used to drink water while he would sing.

And you know, I would do all of those ventriloquist tricks where I would try to smoke a cigarette. And you know, I just threw the dummy on the floor to get him out of my hands so I could smoke.

And you know, many people laughed and a couple of people in the very beginning said: "that's the worst ventriloquist I've ever seen."

LAUGHTER

So -- and this happened in my first movie. When I did Real Life, I played a character called "Albert Brooks," and you know, here was a man named Albert Brooks who set up this whole thing as a realistic experiment of filming a family and trying to make it a sociological experiment.

And I would say, half the reviews I got in America were real. I still remember, you know, I remember I'm not sure if it was Rex Reed or somebody who said: "why in God's name would a studio give this man money to do such an important experiment?"

And you know, I was stunned. I always thought everybody got, you know, figured everything out. But, they didn't. And so I -- it just took years to sort of, you know, maybe make a few people realize that this was thought of and it wasn't just a bad act.

GROSS: Well, it was kind of like the whole world was on your mother's wavelength and not quite getting the jokes.

BROOKS: Yes -- not the whole world, but a lot of people. And you're exactly right, yeah.

GROSS: So you went from one scene to another. You went from the TV variety shows which had an older audience, and then you went to opening for rock acts like...

BROOKS: That's right. I sort of ...

GROSS: ... Neil Diamond and Richie Havens. So, it's one extreme to another.

BROOKS: Exactly. I did -- you know, I sort of had a whole reversal thing because like everybody else does clubs and then gets on television. I did about five years of television before I ever performed in front of a live concert audience. I actually remember the first time I ever performed was in Mississippi with Neil Diamond. And I had just done in the previous year -- when Merv Griffin was on CBS -- I had done like 15 of his shows.

And I remember trying to put together bits of a Merv Griffin show to do as a half-hour in front of a live audience. I didn't even have the transitions in my mind yet of talking to a group of people because I was so used to these bits.

And it was -- it was very -- sometimes it was fun, but opening for rock acts in the early '70s, I wouldn't wish that on anybody.

GROSS: Why not?

BROOKS: Well, it was way before comedy was in or even, you know, popular in any regard. You know, comedy sort of didn't start to get this popularity until, I guess, were the '80s. And let's face it, these people took a lot of drugs and went to see, you know, they wanted to hear the loudest music they could hear. And I think there's an old Chinese adage that says: "sixteen sleeping pills does not make for a good comedy audience."

LAUGHTER

You know, they took a lot of these downers and would sit there and they were waiting for, you know, "Sly and the Family Stone" and the disc jockey had to come out and tell them I was there.

GROSS: Right, and you were gonna come on and talk about things that made you neurotic and insecure.

BROOKS: Stop right there.

GROSS: Yeah, right.

BROOKS: It doesn't matter. It's called "talk about." It's not...

GROSS: Right, right.

BROOKS: ... the human voice they were waiting to hear. They wanted to hear these amplifiers turned up to a billion decibels. They wanted to be hurt, you know. So I -- oh, geez. I had some very rough experiences trying to get people to listen.

I remember once I did open for Sly and it was in Tacoma, Washington. And this -- the show was at eight o'clock and the -- my phone rang at 7:30 in the hotel and -- actually a motel -- in a little teeny room there, and it was Sly -- you know, Sly and the Family Stone -- it was his manager. And at that time, it wasn't a secret. Sly was, you know, experimenting with Colombia's most famous product, and I don't mean the studio.

And so the guy said to me, he said: "let me ask you something, Albert, how long do you do?" I said: "well, you know, normally a half hour, but I'm a little worried about this audience -- maybe 20 minutes." He said, you know, and now, we're in Tacoma, he said: "what's the longest you can do?" I said: "well, I don't know. Why?" "Well, Sly called and he's in Cincinnati."

He had missed the plane. I said: "what, he's in Cincinnati?" I said, well, you know: "What are you talking about? I gotta do three and a half hours?" Well, actually, it would be longer 'cause he can't get a plane until seven. I said: "look, you got the wrong guy here. I don't know if I should even go on."

So I actually did go on, and I remember somebody threw a beer can and cut my leg...

GROSS: Oh, geez.

BROOKS: ... and I was -- I got angry at the audience. I started to hell and them and say "he's not even here, and I'm gonna go on Johnny Carson and tell them that you're horrible" and -- as if they would all stop and go "ooooh."

Anyway, I just got out of town quickly. I ran off the stage. It was not fun.

GROSS: See, you could have said you had two hours left and then taken questions from the audience for the next two hours.

LAUGHTER

BROOKS: Oh, yeah, questions -- right. Like: "how do you want to be killed? Fire or knife?" That would have been the question.

No, it was bad. And I'll tell you what I did do, I still remember, I went back 'cause all their equipment was there, and I started to just play a bass note like the beginning of a Supremes song -- bom, bom, bom, bom, bom, ba, bom. And they all quieted down, and I couldn't play. And so, you know, I was just quiet -- they just were ready.

And I tried to say very patiently: "he's not even here." But you know, they didn't care. They weren't in the mood to be polite and as I say, I think drugs and comedy don't go well.

GROSS: Yeah.

Albert Brooks, recorded in December, 1996. His movie Mother has come out on home video. We'll continue the interview in the second half of the show.

I'm Terry Gross and this is FRESH AIR.

This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross, back with more of our interview with actor, director, and screenwriter Albert Brooks. His latest movie Mother, is now out on home video. When we left off, we were talking about his early career as a standup comic.

Since we were talking about some of your early comedy, I thought we'd play something from your first comedy album, which has been reissued on Rhino Records.

BROOKS: Yeah.

GROSS: And I think...

BROOKS: What are you gonna play?

GROSS: Well, I think my favorite sketch on here is "Rewriting the National Anthem."

BROOKS: Oh.

GROSS: And the premise of this is that nobody goes around singing the national anthem anymore, so we should hold open auditions and find a new national anthem.

BROOKS: Yes.

GROSS: What inspired the sketch?

BROOKS: Well, the national anthem is, you know, one of the silliest songs ever written. I don't think there's an American alive who knows the words, and I just sort of figured that it would, you know, like the introduction says on the record, it would be a funny idea if people had to come to Washington and sit down at a piano and write and, you know, try to sell the country on a new one.

So I played various people coming up with songs, and I sort of, you know, had a guy there who was supposed to moderate the whole thing and tell them yes or no.

GROSS: Why don't we hear it?

BROOKS: OK.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP, "COMEDY MINUS ONE")

BROOKS, AS MODERATOR: Dan Allen, Denver, Colorado.

SOUNDBITE OF PIANO

BROOKS/AUDITIONER, ONE SINGING: "Three thousand miles from coast to coast; every citizen has reason to boast.

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Thank you. Thank you.

BROOKS/AUDITIONER TWO: Can the lights be changed at all? All right, it's not important. Before I sing my song, I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is Mr. Robert "Bob" Harmon (ph), and I currently live and work in the very exciting city of Las Vegas, Nevada.

I'm an entertainer. And you know, Vegas is a great place, an exciting place, but originally I'm from a much quieter place -- a place up North out West -- a place I call Portland.

SOUNDBITE OF PIANO

BROOKS/AUDITIONER TWO: What a great place it is. In one 30-square-mile radius, there is more to do than almost anywhere in the world. There's huntin' and fishin' and boatin' and campin'...

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Get on with it!

BROOKS/AUDITIONER TWO: I am -- that's how I'm gonna do it in the act. It's got beautiful waterfalls and gorgeous trees, but you know, it's part of a bigger place -- it's part of a country. Can you guess which country it is? No, it's not Denmark or Poland or Sweden or Rome...

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Get on with it!

BROOKS/AUDITIONER TWO: It's a lovely place I call "home." I'm proud to say, I've got a country -- Got a country -- I spell it A-M-E-R-I-C-Ayyy.

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Get off the stage!

BROOKS/AUDITIONER TWO: Thank you. Thank you.

APPLAUSE

GROSS: That's Albert Brooks from his first comedy record, "Comedy Minus One," which has been reissued on Rhino Records.

You know, hearing all those really inspired anthem satires that you came up with made me think that you must actually know something about music. That's you at the piano, isn't it?

BROOKS: Yes, and I -- yes, I play piano and I think that music and -- well, first of all, music and comedy are very, very similar because you know there is that word "timing." And I think that -- that in essence, comedy is a form of music. When you're making people laugh, there are stopping and starting and louder and softer and all the things that music have.

I know that when I -- when I'm working on a motion picture, one of the earliest things I do is I sort of think of what kind of a -- what kind of music should be in this particular motion picture. It helps me write.

So I've always -- I've always been musical. I taught myself to play the piano when I was in college.

GROSS: How did you decide to go from comedy to movies?

BROOKS: Well, really all I ever wanted to be was an actor. I never wanted to do comedy. I went to Carnegie-Mellon and I studied acting and at 19 years old, I came back to Los Angeles and saw that I couldn't get any acting roles to save my life. There weren't that many roles for 19-year-olds anyway, and Richard Dreyfuss (ph) was getting all of them.

So there were, you know, some people in my life who convinced me that if I did standup, I could get all the work in the world and that would get me acting. And it really didn't work that way. It just got me more standup.

So when -- in 1974, late '74, NBC decided that they wanted to -- well, actually, a little bit before then, I had written an article for Esquire called "Albert Brooks' Famous School for Comedians," and there was a public television show on at that time called "The Great American Dream Machine" that would do various -- they would do film segments.

And I turned that into I guess what would be the first info-mercial and, again, people thought it was real. I pretended that this comedy school existed and told everybody that they could be funny and I took them on a tour of the school. But it was my first short film and it was very successful. And it showed me that I could sort of translate my comedy to film.

Then when NBC wanted to start -- they actually wanted to, you know, do a Tonight Show on Saturday night, I was offered that as my own show. And I didn't want to do that anymore. I wanted to get into film. So they said to me: "well, we would like you associated with this."

At this time, they hadn't -- there were no prime time players. Nobody was even on board. So in turn for coming on first and doing publicity and allowing them to use my name, I made an agreement to make six short movies for the first year of Saturday Night. And that was the greatest course you could imagine.

Penelope Spheras (ph), who now, you know, is a well-known director -- she produced these shorts. And I -- in a space of eight months, I was able to write and direct and edit and, you know, it was like juggling plates. I would be writing the third one, editing the second one, casting the fourth one -- you know, I was just really able to learn a tremendous amount.

And from then on, I never really, you know, got out of it. I made my first feature, Real Life. In that same year, I got my first acting job which was Taxi Driver.

GROSS: Yes, and your role in -- what a great film to get started in? Did you realize how lucky you were when you got that role?

BROOKS: Wow, isn't it? Well, not until the president was shot. No.

LAUGHTER

Then I thought: "oh my God, this is historic."

LAUGHTER

No, I mean I realized that Marty Scorcese was a, you know, a great guy to have a chance to -- yes, I was able to figure that out. But I never -- who would ever know that that would turn out to be, you know, what a legendary movie.

GROSS: Well, in Taxi Driver you play a campaign worker who...

BROOKS: Yes.

GROSS: ... on the presidential campaign, who works with Cybil Shepherd, and so...

BROOKS: Yes, and you there's...

GROSS: Yes?

BROOKS: ... there's a funny story with that because...

GROSS: Oh, tell it.

BROOKS: ... well, Paul Schrader -- that part wasn't written, so Marty Scorcese hired me and said, you know, maybe you could figure out that part and you know we could figure out the lines and everything. And so we worked on it, and what you see on the movie was sort of like developed in a hotel room. I just sort of worked on things and he would tape it and that's what would appear in the script.

And when it was all over, Paul Schrader, the writer, said, you know: "I want to thank you. That was the only character I really didn't know." And I said: "really?" I said: "you knew Travis Bikel (ph) and Harvey Keitel and all of the pimps and hookers, but a simple guy who works in an office, you couldn't figure out, huh?"

So, it was really a great experience.

GROSS: There's a scene where Robert DeNiro as Travis Bikel, the taxi driver, is hanging around the campaign headquarters, you know, just eying Cybil Shepherd, who he really wants to pick up. And he comes in and tries to talk with her. And your character chases him out.

BROOKS: Yeah.

GROSS: Did you come up with the way to do that? And the lines to use and stuff?

BROOKS: Well, DeNiro did something interesting, because in those days he was, you know, very method -- way before the restaurants, you know. He -- he wouldn't ever even talk to me. So, that moment of uncomfortableness was extra-real. And of course, I thought it was just, you know, about method acting. Then at the cast party, he wouldn't talk to me either. So, you know...

LAUGHTER

He probably just didn't -- he just didn't want to talk to me. But seriously, he wouldn't let me know him. I was trying to make conversation and say "so, you having," you know, "fun doing this?" And he would just walk away. So at that moment where I had to come up and figure out how to throw him out, it was extra-tense because I didn't know who the hell I was dealing with.

GROSS: Well, tell us how you and your character, as this very kind of like middle class campaign worker who isn't a very physical person, deals with DeNiro, who's this really threatening marginal figure, shadowy figure walking in.

BROOKS: Well, he uses the police. He keeps saying "there's police across the street. I'm gonna call the police." I don't think he could do this alone. So that's really the only way he would do it. This guy I played is not gonna get in a fist fight with the guy that Robert DeNiro played. I mean, immediately DeNiro goes into this karate position and, you know, he's playing the world's most frightening man anyway.

So all my guy is doing is: "there's police across the street. I'm calling police. I'm calling police." You know, getting police in there a lot.

GROSS: My guest is Albert Brooks. His new movie is called "Mother." We'll talk more after a break. This is FRESH AIR.

Back with Albert Brooks.

Now, after your role in Taxi Driver, which direction did you want to head in -- the role of playing actors, of being an actor in other people's movies, playing characters who weren't necessarily like you at all; or going the direction of making your own movies and writing characters that were very close to your personality and directing it yourself.

BROOKS: I think if I was a -- if -- I think if offers started to come in, six a week, I probably would have just pursued acting only. I mean, I still, you know, I love to do that. But they didn't.

So I -- it forced me into writing, and once you're going to write, then you have to, you know, do the whole deal, because you can't -- writing is the blueprint and if you're going to -- if I thought there was a director I could hand my stuff to and go home and go to sleep, I would, you know?

Part of me is a lazy guy, but I think that you need to -- you -- if you don't do it yourself, especially in comedy, you'll never get it right. The nuances will be wrong. The casting will be bad. And so, once I decided that I could sit down and write these movie scripts, the rest was just something that, you know, I had to do.

GROSS: There's a line that you're really quite famous for from Broadcast News in which your character says: "wouldn't this be a wonderful world if insecurity and desperation made us more attractive?" Did you write that line?

BROOKS: No, Jim Brooks wrote that line.

GROSS: It seems like you should have written it.

BROOKS: Well.

LAUGHTER

GROSS: Well.

BROOKS: I'm not taking credit for it ...

GROSS: Right.

BROOKS: ... 'cause he might be listening.

GROSS: Right. Right. Right. Did that ring true to you?

BROOKS: You know, not really. I mean, I understand what you're saying, but I, you know, I don't -- I don't know. I don't feel that that's me necessarily, you know.

GROSS: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

BROOKS: I play these characters. I'll tell you something, I once did a bit on television that I only did once, and it was on a Tonight Show, and actually Johnny was sick and Joey Bishop hosted, and the fact that Joey Bishop did meant it was never repeated.

And all I did was, it was about five years into my career and I came out and I sat down in a chair and I talked to the audience for three minutes without getting a laugh -- about life and the philosophy of life. And I said, basically, I'm five years into my career and I have no more material left.

And I said: "don't think I couldn't fool you because I could. I mean, what do you think? I couldn't get a laugh? I could take down my pants and get a laugh, but that's no who I am. What? You don't think I could?"

And I wound up taking down my pants. I took off my shirt. I put eggs all over my head. I kept saying, you know: "but that's not -- I'm not gonna really do that."

And when I was finished, I sat there with no clothes and 16 pounds of food dripping from my face, and I looked right in the camera and I said: "But this isn't the real me." And then I took an eight-by-ten out of my shorts and I said: "this is the real me."

So I have a half-brother, and somebody called him up -- his named is Charles Einstein. He was a very famous sportswriter. And somebody called him up after this and said: "is your half-brother insane?" They said: "is he insane?" And my half-brother said: "no, and you know why? Because he went to the market and bought all that stuff."

And you know, that's really what...

GROSS: Right. Right. Right.

BROOKS: Right. I know the -- all these things aren't -- this is what I do. It's what I prepared to do. So I don't think that I'm literally those people. I mean, I'm...

GROSS: There must -- there must be a reason, though, why you gravitate toward playing or writing characters who are somehow motivated by their neurosis.

BROOKS: Well, because I think that, you know, I never believed John Wayne. I just think that movies are so fake and I just -- listen, if an alien landed on Earth and went to our cinema, boy wouldn't they be confused? They would think we're all police.

LAUGHTER

And I just -- you don't need me to do that. There's enough people to do that. So I just sort of, you know, am anti-that, and anti-that are people whose -- who are exposed; who are vulnerable and maybe, you know, a bit screwed up or whatever it is you want to call it. I just think there are -- I think it makes for more interesting, certainly more real, and certainly funnier characters.

GROSS: In several of your movies, your characters have been divorced or the relationship gets really rocky. Do you ever wish that you were married with children? Is that something you've wanted and haven't been able to get? Or, is that something you never quite saw for yourself anyways?

BROOKS: Well, I have somebody in my life right now...

GROSS: Good.

BROOKS: ... and if things to the way I hope it will go, that all finally might happen. So you know, talk to me in a year. I just -- you know, here's the thing. I never wanted to do this wrong. I know one thing about myself, I would be a bad divorced person. I would really -- if I had to drive and visit my child and leave, I would have a heart attack. I just know that I couldn't do that.

So I was willing to let that not happen, than happen wrong. And by the way, I'm not saying that if it did happen, I wouldn't fail at it, but at least you know when you're going into something, you know that deep down place where you think you've got a chance or you don't.

So I've waited very patiently. You know, I'm the third little pig. I've always felt that that's who I was, and I've been building this brick house and I'm telling you right now, I am not letting the other two pigs in.

LAUGHTER

I'm sorry. I just figured if the other two pigs were listening, they're gonna be pissed.

LAUGHTER

GROSS: Well, one -- one real last question now: has your mother seen the new movie?

BROOKS: Yes, she has. She saw it -- she's seen it a few times now. My mother does the funniest thing about my movies. When -- well, first of all, I know what you're gonna ask: what did she think?

GROSS: Oh, did she think -- did she get the jokes?

BROOKS: Oh, yes. She, well, you know the first thing she said is: "You know, honey, I think one or two things are from us." I said: "One or two things? That's what -- it's an hour and forty minutes." And my mother praised me. She liked this the best.

And she praises me by using my other movies. She says, you know, she says: "I think this is going to be the most popular in this one you don't have to die or drop out or..." I said: "I know. I get it. I understand what you're saying."

But you know something? She really did like this. I can tell. I know my mother, and I think that she loved it.

GROSS: Albert Brooks recorded in December, 1996. His movie Mother is now out on home video. By the way, Brooks got married last March.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP, "COMEDY MINUS ONE")

BROOKS/MODERATOR: All right. Please be quiet. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a lot of -- we've gotta get through it, very -- please be quiet. Very quickly, sit down at the piano, state your name, where your from, play your song. All right? Don't give us any title -- please be quiet -- don't give us any titles. We'll call them all "The Anthem." If we like it, we'll get your title from you later. OK?

State your name, where you're from, play your song, we'll stop you when we've heard enough. Let's go quickly. You're first.

BROOKS/AUDITIONER THREE: First? Ted Rutherford. Dallas, Texas.

SOUNDBITE OF PIANO INTRODUCTION

BROOKS/AUDITIONER THREE: Hey, world, look at us. We're the greatest. We're the...

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Thank you very much. Thank you.

SOUNDBITE OF PIANO

BROOKS/AUDITIONER FOUR: My name is Leroy Williams. I'm from any ghetto you choose.

SOUNDBITE OF PIANO

BROOKS/AUDITIONER FOUR: You jail all your black...

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Thank you.

APPLAUSE

BROOKS/AUDITIONER FIVE: Hal, Hal, Hal Carter. I lived the last 75 years in Michigan. I was born there. I'm 75 years old.

SOUNDBITE OF PIANO

BROOKS/AUDITIONER FIVE, SINGING: While we stand here waiting for the ball game to start, let's give thanks for our home and our two-car garage. Let's give thanks for TV...

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Thank you.

BROOKS/AUDITIONER FIVE: ... Let's give thanks...

BROOKS/MODERATOR: Thank you.

BROOKS/AUDITIONER FIVE: Thank you.

Dateline: Terry Gross, Philadelphia
Guest: Albert Brooks
High: Actor, comic, writer, director Albert Brooks. Other comics revere him, although he's never been a huge commercial success. The films he's written, directed and acted in are "Real Life," "Modern Romance," "Lost in America," and "Defending Your Life." And he's acted in the films "Taxi Driver," "Broadcast News," and "I'll Do Anything." His latest film which he co-wrote, directed and stars in is "Mother." It's now out on video. It's about a grown man who blames his hypercritical mother for his problems. It also stars Debbie Reynolds.
Spec: Media; Movie Industry; Albert Brooks; Mother
Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 1997 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1997 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: Albert Brooks
Show: FRESH AIR
Date: SEPTEMBER 01, 1997
Time: 12:00
Tran: 090102np.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: OK Computer
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:55

TERRY GROSS, HOST: "Radiohead" is an English quartet best known in America for its 1993 hit single "Creep," which became a grunge anthem. But on their new album, their third, called "OK Computer," Radiohead's music has swerved in the direction of '70s art rock -- a move that has brought wide acclaim in their homeland, but hasn't quite caught on in America.

Rock critic Ken Tucker has a review.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP, "OK COMPUTER")

SINGER: I will stop
I will stop at nothing
Say the right things
When I let you (Unintelligible)
(Unintelligible)
I can't rely on
(Unintelligible)
When I go forwards
You go backwards
And some way we will meet

KEN TUCKER, FRESH AIR COMMENTATOR: To an American rock fan, Radiohead is one of the more interesting anomalies around right now. When their 1993 debut album "Pablo Honey" (ph) came out here, its abrasive guitar textures and howling vocals were heard in the context of our own alternative rock music. And the song Creep jibed with the self-loathing sullenness that made Seattle bands so amusing for a couple of years or so.

But Radiohead possesses an ambitiousness -- a cavalier pretentiousness -- that now makes associating them with the intentional dead-end of grunge seem silly. Morose, but wittily eclectic, what Radiohead wants to be on OK Computer" is nothing less than Pink Floyd for the end of the century.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP, "PARANOID ANDROID")

SINGER: Please could you stop the noise
I'm trying to get some rest
From all the (Unintelligible)
Voices in my head
What's there? What's there?

TUCKER: Like so many English rock bands, Radiohead is most fond of despair. Lead singer Tom York (ph) likes to moan and wail and generally convey the idea that he's so unhappy he simply must make cutting remarks about everyone around him.

In the song I just played, the album's first single, "Paranoid Android," York spits out the couplet: "when I am king, you will be first against the wall with your opinions, which are of no consequence at all."

Elsewhere on the album, there is the refrain: "we hope that you choke." Not a nice fellow, our Tom, but such bile seems to give Radiohead the passion it needs for a beautiful song like "No Surprises."

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP, "NO SURPRISES")

SINGER: (Unintelligible)
Full of (Unintelligible)
A job that slowly kills
Who says that won't (Unintelligible)
You will (Unintelligible)
The government
They don't -- they don't speak for us

TUCKER: In England, OK Computer was greeted like the next big thing it was clearly intended to be. The excellent Nick Kent (ph), writing in the English rock magazine "Mojo," (ph), said: "I'm betting OK Computer will be seen as the key record of 1997."

Over here, however, the CD got solid reviews, but is selling only middling well. I think I know why. American listeners fond of the expansive work that helped inspire OK Computer -- Pink Floyd, King Crimson, Yes, Genesis -- they like their pretentiousness straight, but Radiohead laces it all with irony.

It's that sense of distance and dry humor that enables someone like me, who pretty much hates all the art rockers I just cited, to enjoy OK Computer. But I admit that this is a rather shallow form of enjoyment and I respect American art rock fans for craving deeper pleasure.

Whether Radiohead will ever be able to satisfy them will determine their evolution as a band.

GROSS: Ken Tucker is critic-at-large for Entertainment Weekly.

Dateline: Ken Tucker; Terry Gross, Philadelphia
Guest:
High: Rock critic Ken Tucker reviews "OK Computer" by the British quartet Radiohead.
Spec: Music Industry; OK Computer
Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 1997 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1997 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: OK Computer
Transcripts are created on a rush deadline, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of Fresh Air interviews and reviews are the audio recordings of each segment.