The Albert Brooks Documentary Is Proof We Don’t Appreciate Comedy Enough

Albert Brooks is a genius. Part of the reason I’m so confident that I can say that is because more than a few of my friends agree with me on this matter. But the one problem is I’ve learned over time that just because my small circle can come together on an opinion, that doesn’t mean the other 7,799,999,985 people on the planet who aren’t on my group text might agree. Brooks is hardly a cult figure; the seven films he’s written and directed have made more money at the box office than they’ve lost, he’s been nominated for an Oscar, I like to think he stole the show from Ryan Gosling in Drive, and—in what might be his high-water mark in popular culture—he’s been the voice of multiple characters on The Simpsons. That’s probably why I was surprised that the documentary Albert Brooks: Defending My Life, lovingly directed by his old friend Rob Reiner, felt like an explainer or a fun introduction to his life and body of work.

I know my little group of friends aren’t alone in feeling the way we feel about him, and the documentary lines up plenty of big names like Steven Spielberg, Chris Rock, Judd Apatow, and even Alana Haim to praise his work. While I like knowing I share an opinion with the rich, the famous, and the Haims, watching the documentary only reinforced my feeling that there are two sorts of people in this world: Comedy fans, and fans of comedy. I consider myself and everybody I’ve mentioned in this article to be in the first group. I don’t know if that’s anything to be proud of, given most of the people I know looked to comedy as a way to escape something or another when they were growing up. But the second group seems to take a more passive approach to their idea of comedy. They see somebody doing stand-up or a movie described as comedy, and they look at it as pure entertainment, something that should make them laugh or, in some cases, provoke people. Comedy is a means to an end for some, and that’s reasonable—you should want to laugh! Everything is terrifying out there, and if we’re still looking for people to crack us up, then I suppose not all hope is lost. But it’s also part of the reason people like Brooks don’t always get the credit they deserve. We don’t appreciate comedy and the people who create it the way we should.

But we do like labels in America. And if you’re labeled a comedian early on in your career, then that will likely often stick to you. Now and then, somebody like Jordan Peele will come around and transcend the tag by ending his hilarious, gag-filled sketch show with Keegan-Michael Key to become this generation’s Alfred Hitchcock—but even his acclaimed horror films Get Out and Nope still blur the line between scary and darkly humorous. Mel Brooks (no relation to Albert) has demonstrated that he can write songs good enough to nab him Tony and Grammy awards, and people who are still hanging on to the last episode of Seinfeld probably wouldn’t appreciate my belief that its writer, Larry David, is the modern Franz Kafka and that Kafka was hilarious. When I first met Kareem Rahma, who's gained a big online following for his mini-talk shows Keep the Meter Running and Subway Takes, he mentioned to me that he sees what he’s doing as having more in common with another performer who was cracking up and confusing audiences at the same time as Brooks—Andy Kaufman. Rahma has hosted comedy shows and like anybody with a comedic mind, he loves a bit, but he’s quick to point out that he’s as much a writer and an actor as anything else. But because he’s especially good at making people laugh, he often has to justify what he does and why he does it.

“I have a really hard time explaining that I am a comedian who enjoys stand-up but does not want to be a stand-up,” he says. Along with Kaufman, he mentions Steve Martin as another influence that comes up when you talk about Brooks’ and his career trajectory. Martin is two years older than Brooks. They both grew up in L.A., and each took bits and pieces of old Hollywood and American entertainment tropes and twisted them into something just south of stand-up comedy but also not that far north from performance art. Then, in the ‘80s and ‘90s, their movie careers took over for their stage shows; Martin went from more zany films like The Jerk to rom-coms and America’s Dad movies like Father of the Bride, while Brooks made and acted in films that often get mentioned alongside the best work Billy Wilder, Nora Ephron, and Mike Nichols did. Both have dramatic roles in their respective filmographies, but they both drift back to funny roles sooner or later. Martin’s most recent success is with the show Only Murders in the Building and Brooks’ most recent television role was on the most recent season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, as a “Covid hoarder” version of himself who hosts his own funeral while he’s still alive.

“I think that like all creative people, comedians are multi-dimensional,” Rahma says when I ask him what he thinks draws people like Brooks back to comedic roles. “The thing about it is that sometimes you feel like being funny and sometimes you don’t. Being a comedian allows you to live in a different reality, one that is rooted in laughter and entertainment and all of the great things about life, but sometimes you just want to return to Earth. The class clown goes home, and is a quiet kid in his bedroom.”

So is Brooks a comedian? A director? A writer? He’s done all those things. In Reiner’s documentary, people also bring up his acting chops, since it still comes as a surprise to some that people who excel at being funny can also turn in great performances. But before Jamie Foxx won an Oscar and Adam Sandler shocked the world (more than a few times) by showing he’s able to stretch his schtick far enough to have some impressive range, Brooks was making his film debut in Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. Reiner asks Brooks why Scorsese felt he was the right guy for the job despite never starring in a movie, and Brooks says that the director is a fan of comedy and had seen Brooks on variety shows and “sensed I could do it.” James L. Brooks (also no relation), who directed Brooks in his Oscar-nominated Broadcast News role, says people shouldn’t be surprised that Brooks has been able to steal the screen when he’s in character. “Albert is a totally trained actor,” Brooks says. “He has all that technique, he has all those tools; he can do anything.”

And over the last 50-plus years, he has done anything and everything. He maybe doesn’t have as many acting or directing credits as some of his contemporaries, and that might explain why the documentary feels like a primer for the unfamiliar. But it’s also something else. It’s that Brooks is best known for being funny, and we take humor for granted. To me, Brooks is somebody with roots in the comedy world that I’d consider a great American genius the way I might Herman Melville, Georgia O'Keeffe, or Ray Charles. He’s had plenty of acclaim and work throughout his career, but I can’t help thinking because people think of him first as a guy who’s good at making them laugh and everything else he’s done comes second, that it’s not nearly the amount of appreciation he deserves. I guess it’s not easy being a genius.

Originally Appeared on GQ