What's the deal with Jerry Seinfeld's comedy?
Evan Agostini
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Jerry Seinfeld has leapt off a rooftop at Cannes in a bee costume in 2007 to promote his patience-trying CGI flick Bee Movie, appeared in confounding Michel Gondry-directed Microsoft ads with Bill Gates, and is spearheading a new NBC reality program called The Marriage Ref (wherein comedians and celebrities serve as “referees” on non-celebrity couples' marital problems). But none of these head-scratching developments can erase or diminish what he still is to his most devoted fans: an unparalleled stand-up comedian. While Seinfeld’s prowess with the microphone and observational comedy is undeniable, his style has been appropriated by countless imitators and parodied since his beloved sitcom made him a household name—all of which cheapen the man's reputation. A refresher beyond his shows tonight at the Rosemont Theatre is in order. That’s why The A.V. Club is taking a look back at some of Seinfeld’s most defining but questionable bits, and the deeper truths they conceal.
The bit: "Air travel"—airport bathrooms, in-flight safety demonstrations, airplane peanuts. Everything and anything related to mankind's most annoying shared experience.
Why Seinfeld does it better than anyone else: This shtick is quoted to death by young comics as a qualifier for a hacky, lame bit; in lieu of a segue in their act, they'll blurt out, "So… what's the deal with airline food?" It harkens back to a time when stand-up comics desperately aspired to project "I'm just like you," and the reason Seinfeld's rendition comes up so often is because he figured out the formula for relatability: Relay the minutiae of thoughts you probably have, but never voice. Seinfeld not only picks the ordeal apart, but takes audiences into his mind at each step: A joke about the tiny amount of water that comes out of airline faucets becomes a cautionary fantasy about business travelers getting into water fights; the captain updates the plane about the flight path, and Seinfeld wants to update him as to what the passengers are doing (eating peanuts). And at the end, Seinfeld is able to take in the whole experience as a group—tiny food, tiny tables, slight delay, a little late.
The deeper truth: People are creatures of habit, and recognition of those habits can be a revelatory experience.
The bit: “Cotton balls,” a dissection on a single household product that has endless uses for women, but none for men.
Why Seinfeld does it better than anyone else: It almost sounds like Seinfeld is parodying himself, but by not mentioning a specific girlfriend or woman, he maintains an almost altruistic perspective on how men and women see the world—the audience can objectively use their imaginations to remember evidence backing up Seinfeld’s apt observation. Not that pointing out that men and women are different is particularly wise or novel, but there are some parts of daily life that simply don’t transfer to both genders. Seinfeld focuses like a laser on this aspect of the subject, whereas more clumsy comedians would bookend it with a boorish “men are like this, but women are like this.”
The deeper truth: Men and women are fundamentally different. Cotton can stand in for anything—we’ll always see the same thing differently.
The bit: “Chinese people,” an intentionally out of left-field aside about the Asian culture’s stubborn preference for chopsticks.
Why Seinfeld does it better than anyone else: In the hands of a lesser comic, this bit would come across as racist and mean, but Seinfeld zeroes in on the absurdity of this observation by making no attempt whatsoever to segue into it: He simply announces after the previous bit is over, “I’ll tell you what I like about Chinese people, as long as we’re on the subject.” Thankfully Seinfeld keeps it short and to the point at a tight 45 seconds, merely comparing primitive farming tools like shovels to more Western utensils like spoons, and then moving on. Decades prior, stuttering comic Bob Newhart mined this intentionally tangential territory with similar results, disarming possible conceived sexism in a bit about women drivers by instead temporarily making it about Chinese drivers until audiences groan even more. Seinfeld hints at the discomfort more than Newhart, making the bit as a whole much more confounding and therefore satisfying.
The deeper truth: Like much of Seinfeld’s comedy, this points to how arbitrary social norms are, but goes further by going international.
The bit: "Halloween," a kid's perspective on cheap costumes, cold weather, and candy, candy, candy.
Why Seinfeld does it better than anyone else: Once again, Seinfeld demonstrates his knack for deconstruction, but does so in an orderly, deliberate fashion. He first touches on children's deep-seated need for candy, covering adults' warnings about strangers (kids will take candy from anyone if given the chance) and the joy they'd feel upon learning there's an entire holiday devoted to people giving out candy—"What do I have to do? I'll do anything!" Next it's on to costumes, covering the cheap excuse for a rubber band on Superman masks and the warning on the box cautioning kids not to try flying. When he finally gets to the actual trick-or-treating, he reminds us all that his mom used to make him wear a jacket—the ultimate Halloween buzzkill; and because he fleshed everything out first with the audience, they feel the palpable child-like frustration, and laugh all the harder.
The deeper truth: Childhood memories can be a powerful unifier.
