{"id":170243,"date":"2026-01-17T08:00:40","date_gmt":"2026-01-17T13:00:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=170243"},"modified":"2026-01-16T11:58:17","modified_gmt":"2026-01-16T16:58:17","slug":"170243","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=170243","title":{"rendered":"“I never told a joke in my life.” — Andy Kaufman"},"content":{"rendered":"

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How could you describe Andy Kaufman (who was born on this day) to a generation who did not grow up seeing him on late-night talk shows, cameos on Saturday Night Live<\/i>, his own TV specials? <\/p>\n

How on earth could you pass on an idea of what it was that he did<\/i>? <\/p>\n

I mean, nobody understood it THEN either. <\/p>\n

He was a comedian. Sure. Yeah. But that doesn’t quite cover it, now does it. <\/p>\n

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What other comedian would (before or since) pull some of the shit he pulled on Saturday Night Live<\/i>? Like coming out wearing a lounging jacket, and standing next to a little record player, where he would drop the needle. He listened for a moment, then lifted the needle. After this opener, he then goes into a long and snootily awkward monologue about what he was going to do next, which was read The Great Gatsby<\/i> out loud. Then, without winking at the audience like “I know, this is so annoying, but just wait, the punch-line’s coming”, without any of that re-assurance, he read the first four or five pages of the book. Read it out loud and see how long that takes. It’s interminable<\/i>. The audience eventually becomes so annoyed they start booing him. On Saturday Night Live<\/i>!! And yet he persisted. He heard the boos, and kept reading Fitzgerald’s elegiac stately prose. Finally Lorne Michaels himself came out onstage – !!! – and said to Andy, “There’s no more time, we have to move on”, and so Kaufman walks offstage to catcalls.<\/p>\n

The whole thing is still extremely unnerving to watch. I love being unnerved.<\/p>\n

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Kaufman pushes the audience up against its voracious need to be entertained in conventional ways, where expectations are gratified along familiar lines. Kaufman’s act creates a confrontation in the audience. 90% of humanity refuses to acknowledge their own contradictions. Sorry, but it’s true. If you think the number is lower, you have a more optimistic outlook on life than I do. As someone who “came up” in acting, I’ve always felt that self-knowledge or at LEAST self-reflection like this is more common among theatre folks, or at least it has a higher percentage in that particular population than other populations – and this is something civilians – with their barely veiled hostility towards show folk – will never understand. You spend your time in acting classes facing your defense mechanisms that inhibit you from doing good work, acknowledging your limitations, struggling to be open to the coaching you get – even if it’s harsh … So no wonder. Every time I hope that there will be some kind of mass reckoning, some kind of shift in human consciousness where self-reflection and taking-a-minute-before-reacting will become the norm, everyone starts flipping out and defending their position again. The internet is a culprit, but not the cause. The internet has not brought this out<\/i> of humanity. The internet just allowed us to perceive how widespread the inability to self-reflect was. <\/p>\n

So Kaufman walks offstage – on live television – to boos and catcalls. Think of SNL<\/i> now. Think of how much a well-oiled risk-free format it is now. Incomprehensible to imagine someone coming on and fucking with it so openly.<\/p>\n

What was Kaufman thinking? Was it real? What the hell was<\/em> real? Of course it was real. And it wasn’t designed to be “funny ha-ha”. It was more of a surrealist performance-art piece. Samuel Beckett would have understood it. The patience of a bit like that, the disinterest in being ingratiating or even liked<\/em>, the willingness to annoy people, and not only the willingness: annoying people seemed to be the whole point. <\/p>\n

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\nAndy Kaufman and Jerry Lawler. Famous. Background here<\/a>.<\/i><\/p>\n

\nBecause of its otherworldly weirdness, and non-topical focus, Kaufman’s stuff does not “date” at all (except for the fact that people’s tolerance for risky stuff like this is even lower now, especially since such a fanatical premium is placed on being “likeable” and “relateable”, the result of which is pandering to the lowest common denominator). All that aside, his bits remain what they were then: strange, confounding, outrageous, uncomfortable, riveting. The Great Gatsby<\/i> bit feels like a giant experiment: How much will they take?<\/i> It’s aggressive: I have them trapped. I will make them submit to the most ridiculous annoying shit I can think of.<\/i> <\/p>\n

Negotiating the relationship between audience and performer is one of the most interesting – and often unacknowledged – parts about the comedian racket, and Kaufman’s whole career was about acknowledging it, acknowledging all the different layers of ambivalence. <\/p>\n

Every human being is unique, but when I watch Andy Kaufman, I think, “Well. Some of us are just MORE unique than everybody else.” <\/p>\n

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\nKaufman never let the audience off the hook. If that generated resistance, so much the better. Make them uncomfortable. Make them feel something. Jostle them out of complacency. And there was an open question in Kaufman’s style too, the “experiment” quality of it: Let’s see how far into “Gatsby” they’ll let me get. Let’s see what they’ll do. <\/i><\/p>\n

There’s a reason why people still think (and hope) that his death may have been just another stunt<\/a>, and that he is still out there somewhere. Because you were never sure he was on the level. Ever. <\/p>\n

Please go read my friend Trav SD’s post about Kaufman<\/a>. He looks at Kaufman through the lens of the tradition of “variety”: <\/p>\n

Jim Carrey\u2019s performance is accurate in many respects, but I think he made a glaring mistake in privileging Kaufman\u2019s famous spaciness over a much more important quality that I take to be the elephant in the room. That is Kaufman\u2019s anger and hostility. I know it\u2019s there because I detect it behind his performances, but even if you can\u2019t see it there, just apply logic. The man is fucking with people. He is fucking with producers, hosts, co-stars, sponsors, and the audience! He wants to provoke something and it\u2019s something more than laughter.<\/i> You people are dead out there and you need a slap in the face. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And now, of course, I must mention his whole Elvis obsession.<\/p>\n

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\nKaufman’s love of Elvis is the stuff of legends. He was deep deep into it – doing impressions of Elvis – before Elvis died. He clearly bought the risible album of “outtakes” (Elvis’ onstage patter, released during the dreary mid-late 70s, when Elvis’ output had dried up). But Kaufman bought that album, and memorized the patter (“Gatorade”, “My records are all about the same size” etc.) Now, with YouTube, and compilation albums, etc., you can hear all of Elvis’ onstage patter, if you want to. It’s easily available. But back then? You really had to be devoted to even unearth this stuff.<\/p>\n

When Kaufman was just twenty years old, he wrote a now-famous later to Elvis. <\/p>\n

Feb. 27, 1969
\nKaufman
\nLeavitt Hall
\n645 Beacon St.
\nBoston, Msses, Room 629<\/p>\n

Dear Mr. Presley,
\nHi.
\nHere I am at the old college desk writing you a letter for the first time in my life.
\nHere I am twenty years old. I have been an “Elvis Presley fan” since my grandfather bought me a copy of Elvis’ Golden Records when I was seven. (Since then I have acquired every record you ever recorded except three.)
\nYou are Elvis Presley<\/u>. I am Andy Kaufman. One day I shall meet you. I shall shake your hand. I shall say “Hello.”
\nI know you, ya know? I really do know you. [Bottom of letter missing.]
\nIt’s just an idea, but if it can’t happen, can you arrange for me to just shake your hand and say hello?
\nI mean, I’ve gone through a heckova lot these past few years, turning people on to you, dragging friends and parties to your movies. I don’t even drink, smoke, or curse anymore.
\nThanks for everything.
\n(No kiddin’, I feel like I’m writin’ to Santa Claus or somethin’!)
\nSincerely,
\nAndy G. Kaufman<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It sounds a little “Dear Slim”, if you ask me. <\/p>\n

What’s amazing though is just three years later, Kaufman “debuted” his Elvis bit – the one he would eventually do on The Tonight Show<\/em>. And … it’s not what you think. Bookending it the way he does … this is why he was a genius, in the true sense of the word. Here’s the “bit”. <\/p>\n