Live From New York
by Tom Shales and James Andrew Miller
Little, Brown

Aside from the United Kingdom, it's unlikely that any country can match the United States for humor "institutions," per capita. We've got the Onion. We've got most of the Second City troupes (though Toronto has one, too). We've got The Harvard Lampoon, "The Late Show," Modern Humorist, "The Simpsons," "Conan O'Brien" and fat handfuls of smart, devoted, nigh-militant comedy shocktroops.

But "Saturday Night Live" has been the industry's hub almost since its birth in 1975. It's not the pinnacle; shows like "Larry Sanders" and "Mr. Show" have been far funnier, and institutions such as "The Simpsons" have been more consistent. But everyone seems to pass through SNL; it's the humor boot camp at which so many of the country's best writers and performers have won their stripes. Bill Murray, John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Eddie Murphy, Dan Aykroyd, Adam Sandler, Mike Myers, Chris Rock and dozens of other stars have graduated from its strange, brutally intense environment, along with the far less famous but equally critical writers who mine and refine the industry's raw material.

"Live From New York," by Tom Shales and James Andrew Miller, takes readers deep into the salt mines of SNL. It's to their credit that the book unearths at least as many nuggets of precious metal as clumps of gravel. By conducting dozens of interviews and compiling an oral history (ala "The Good War"), the authors put readers at the mercy of some very smart, very crafty and sometimes very damaged comedians. Everybody seems to have opinions about who was a pompous asshole, or who was totally strung out on what; only occasionally do these opinions coincide.

But the authors are careful to bring a lot of voices into the mix — readers hear not only from the show's stars, but from its guest hosts; its production staff; the NBC network executives who alternately saved and assaulted the program; and from Lorne Michaels, its indomitable creator and principle producer.

From many conflicting voices, truth emerges. Everyone agrees that the show is a crucible of competitive pressure and blast-furnace energy; few agree as to whether that's a good or bad thing. Everyone agrees there's a tension between experimental humor and conventional, dependable recurring characters; few agree as to where that balance should sit. The cacophony of disagreeing voices makes for great, addictive reading — it demands that a reader be smart and alert, constantly sorting through contentious accounts and personal grudges. At 565 pages, it's a big book, but the rich voices make it compelling. It's over way too soon.

You get to hear Conan O'Brien tell stories like this:

... Lorne will not usually confront you directly. He would just say things like, "Oh, I loved how it had no ending," or "It was brilliant how it just sort of dribbled off." And he's trying to talk about the lousy dress [rehearsal], and I think Bob Odenkirk, who was very junior at that point, whispered to somebody something, and Lorne just went, "Odenkirk, you speak again, I'll break your fucking legs." And it was the first time I had seen him really swinging into action and actually beating someone up. It really made me laugh.

And you get to hear film director John Landis talk about Bill Murray and Chevy Chase getting into a fight just before Chase was due to take the stage:

And the thing I remember about Bill Murray — I don't know Bill Murray, but he's screaming, you know, foaming at the mouth, "Fucking Chevy," and in anger he says, "Medium talent!" And I thought, "Ooh boy, that's funny. In anger he says 'medium talent.' " That really impressed me. I went, "So, Bill Murray — wow, who is that guy?"

Spectacular incidents aside, SNL is best for the broad portrait that it paints of a complicated, high-pressure organization, and the intelligent, adaptable, sometimes borderline psychotic characters that make it work.

Sure, the book is fat-packed with drugs, sex and egos. But you can get that same crap on any functional daytime drama. What makes "Live From New York" worth reading is the humanity of its voices and its insight into the process of making a TV show. It's the story of how a show, over decades, is born, evolves, thrives, dwindles and is revived.

On balance, the authors do a terrific job of standing back and letting the stars of SNL tell the show's stories; the only time the book really flags is during the expository filler text, which sometimes bogs down into eyerolling ad copy like this:

Michaels stood at the back of the room during the speeches, inescapably and perpetually, if remotely, patriarchal. It is a family, after all — a family of gifted misfits and brilliant oddballs — and it comes together now and then to remember, to celebrate, to mourn — and, no matter how solemn the occasion, to laugh.

But the ratio of filler to the straight dope from the mouths of performers is something like 1:15. And the straight dope is intoxicating, illuminating, befuddling and — appropriately — wildly funny and ultimately addictive.

— James Norton (jrnorton@flakmag.com)