I've been binge-watching Curb Your Enthusiasm (will be referred to as Curb for convenience henceforth). It's a curious show that feels at times like a reality-TV mockumentary in the vein of Keeping up with the Kadarshians, yet stuffed with the kooky urban witticisms we associate with the legendary Seinfeld. The latter connection should be no surprise really, because the (co-)creator of Curb is the very same Larry David. In an era when even big-budget TV shows get cut after one or two seasons if the critical mass of audience isn't reached, Curb has recently hit its 11th season on HBO; so clearly, Curb must be doing something right. I think it's really funny, but when my wife asked me where the humour was, I couldn't really give her a clear answer. So in this essay, I'd like to explore that for a bit.
On the surface, an obvious pull-factor to Curb is the constant stream of cameos by familiar Hollywood faces, from big A-list actors to more niche creators, popping up every so often in random episodes, often playing themselves. As it turns out, Curb is also unapologetically Jewish, and the close community ties of American jewry is made abundantly clear. Since there are not many shows quite so Jewish on TV, this element adds quite a unique character to Curb.
In the Curb universe, Larry plays himself - a cranky old man with an opinion on nothing and everything, who just so happens to be the famous and successful co-creator of Seinfeld - living large in L.A., regularly rubbing shoulders with Hollywood executives, talent and friends within show business. In a self-deprecating twist however, in this world, Larry's acerbic nature and his unwillingness to be agreeable for its own sake lands him in all kinds of awkward social situations. As in any self-respecting sitcom, these petty conflicts, however unusual and irksome, do not actually escalate into anything grave and unforgivable. So there's the formula for a typical episode: Larry frustrates at least a couple of people or (social) processes that, by the end of the episode conspire and coalesce into an extremely awkward encounter which exposes him like a deer in the headlights.
The Nerdwriter argued in one of his video essays that Louis CK is a moral detective, in the sense that his comedy is usually right at the edge of what is polite or taboo, as he deftly hopscotches back and forth trying to find where exactly "the line that must not be crossed" is, thus creating the requisite tension and relief of stand-up comedy. In the same way, Larry David I feel is exploring the fractal complexities of things we take for granted in social settings, namely things like "common sense", "manners and etiquette", "the social contract" and other unspoken/unwritten rules that we nevertheless have to navigate daily.
Here are some examples of his daily crusades for the greater good.
With an almost autistic gaucheness, Larry (the character) is constantly stumped by the countless faux-pas that no one tells you about but everyone expects you to follow. Neither are these rules absolute, with yet again a whole new set of exceptions when these rules do or do not apply. What we call culture then is an overwhelmingly obtuse operating system that a new user would find impossible to navigate.
Who is to say if these rules are actually useful, or right, or valid? Is agreeableness a good in and of itself? If so, how do we square such a statement with Jiddu Krishnamurthi's dictum that "it is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society"? While Curb itself steers well clear of serious moral quandaries, it is still a good trigger to ask these questions. If we can't even agree on the least important details, what gives us confidence that we are well-equipped to handle more substantial issues?
This leads directly to the role Larry-the-character is unafraid to inhabit in his interactions. His best friend calls him a "social assassin", and others say his brutal honesty is giving voice to "what everyone else is thinking but is too afraid to say". Now some of his opinions are harmless, most are misunderstood, and yet others are a bit confrontational and unpleasant to deal with. However, I would assert emphatically that Larry is not being a troll, even though (internet) trolls also seem to take pleasure in saying confrontational and unpleasant things.
Why? Larry doesn't hide behind the mask of anonymity when making these opinions heard, nor is he being intentionally maliciously hurtful, not at all. Larry not only makes his statement but also stands by it with his own reputation on the line. He never slinks away from any ensuing confrontation, with a consistent credo as follows: "Look, I'm ready to apologise for causing offense, but not for having the opinion. But the opinion itself is not a sacred cow, and I reserve the right to change my mind (or yours) in our ongoing conversation." And that right there is such an important sentiment to keep in mind in these wild days of "cancel culture" coming from every side - left, right and center.
In embodying this credo, Larry demonstrates a few important insights. The first is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with having a strong personality with strong opinions. Being aggressively "nice" can go too far in that it leaves one without any identity to speak of. But take responsibility for those opinions; own them and justify them bravely. Don’t fall in love with imaginary ideals and lose track of real people and their real feelings. Be intellectually honest about your stance, and be equally humble enough to admit when you’re wrong or if a nuanced compromise is necessary. And if it so happens that the conflict results in a fallout, accept those consequences stoically and graciously. To expect blanket consensus or worse, freedom from any consequences whatsoever, is no different from having a tyrant's sense of entitlement.
Like Seinfeld, Curb revels in the beauty of small talk. I have to admit that this was a revelation for me; even being as old as I am, I was until so very recently holding on to a stubborn unexamined belief that small talk is the final refuge of the criminally boring. In stark contrast to the terse and substantial Olympic fencing matches of blinding wit that we expect from a writer like Aaron Sorkin, Curb is more like settling into a leisurely mud bath with no one watching. Yes, it's that comfortable and indulgent - no rush, no judgement, no shame.
Why does the dialogue of Seinfeld and Curb stand out among its peers? I think it's because it flies in the face of what is offered as traditional wisdom to every aspiring writer. Skip the small talk, get to the point in every interaction, keep up the momentum, characters and their conversations are just instruments to develop the plot. The plot is usually the point. Seinfeld on the other hand is famously a show about nothing in particular. Curb, despite its cantankerous characters, is also about nothing. There are no sweeping arcs to keep track of, and that wouldn't be the point anyway. The conversations aren’t a means to an end; they are the high point of the show.
So where's the humour here? Of course the socially awkward situations that Larry gets himself into provide ample material for easy gags. But what really elevates the quality of the small talk on the show is that every episode is improvised! Only broad plot points are written down and shared with the cast, and characters rely on each other in every scene to find the words and get into the flow, as improbable and awkward as the plot may get. So in Curb, small talk is quite literally the only way for the cast to get comfortable in each other's presence, a necessary social lubricant to navigate the inherent uncertainty of an improv scene, especially given the awkward situations Larry creates for himself and his characters.
Small talk as improv in and of itself! What a revelation! I swear, this has been my epiphany about small talk since watching this show. If I were to expand further on this, I now see small talk as a sweet complication that transforms interactions with others from the purely goal-oriented and transactional, to something more characterful and interpersonal. If I were to give this a musical analogy, small talk now strikes me as the vibrato of conversation. It doesn't necessarily change the tune or the mood of the rendition, but it can make the journey unique and interesting nonetheless. Each interaction with another can become a light verbal dance regardless of the subject being discussed; this is how a conversation itself can become a memory.
I guess that's a wrap on my review of the Curb Your Enthusiasm series. If nothing else, I have Larry David’s school for civility to thank for giving me a fuller appreciation for small talk, even in situations when tension and conflict are inevitable. And so, I look forward to the little verbal dances in everyday interactions, treating each encounter not as a trickling drain on my patience but as a prosocial puzzle to find common ground, with bonus points if we’re both laughing by the end.