Introduction
I started this book before the pandemic. I did a few interviews—Mort Sahl, Whitney Cummings, Nathan Fielder, Gary Gulman—but I wasn’t exactly putting a ton of time into it. Then the pandemic hit and I realized that most of the people I wanted to speak with were stuck at home with nothing to do, too. It’s hard to say no to an interview when it is clear you are available. We all were available—for everything.
So, I began making calls and lining up conversations. And as we talked, a weird thing happened: Many of these conversations became way more personal and honest than they otherwise might have been, because we were in this vulnerable, raw space together. It’s hard to hold back in an interview when you have been pondering your life (and death) for the past few months—when not over-eating, drinking, or watching streaming programming you don’t even like.
Finishing this project was challenging. There were so many people I wanted to speak to, and I knew that as soon as the world calmed down it would become much harder to get access to them. As things opened up again, I was forced to give up my quest for Pete Townshend and Meghan Markle. Maybe for the next book. (Or the next pandemic?)
It’s hard to write the intro to this book because I still feel so in between. I am not who I was before the pandemic began and yet I am not sure who I am now. I am, frankly, existentially confused. What meaning does my life have? What is the point of all of the work I have done? Why am I so disinterested and interested at the same time? How come I have become so close to my cats? Why do I keep getting more cats? Maybe the conversations in this book will shed some light on these questions.
Other than my love for my family, the one consistent observation I have had, during all of this madness, is that I needed to laugh. I needed the insights of comic minds. I also was told by a lot of people that my work had given them brief, happy breaks from all we are experiencing, which was nice. I spent months getting those same breaks with
Ted Lasso,
Schitt’s Creek,
Jackass, and anything by Maria Bamford.
I have always seen comedy as a lifeline—which is why I’ve been interviewing comedians about why they do what they do since I was fifteen years old. Without comedy, I don’t know how I would survive. When the pandemic was at full force, I grabbed my family and made a really silly movie. I didn’t know what else to do. Is that healthy? Is it denial? Is it medicine? Is it sick? I am not sure. But now I know that when the world seems to be collapsing my reaction is to make a movie about a group of people having a meltdown during a pandemic as they attempt to make a movie about flying dinosaurs. The process of making that film with my family got me through. It gave me purpose: to be ridiculous. Isn’t it all ridiculous? It also got me out of the house and into a community of people with the same goal—to make people smile. When the shit hits the fan that is all I have to offer. I may not know how to turn the gas off when the building is on fire, but I might be able to make you piss your pants. That’s got to be worth something?
I am still struggling. I don’t feel right. But maybe if things get back to normal, and maybe after I do another book and make a few more ridiculous movies, I will feel right again. And the world will have some more weird stuff to read and some more stupid shit to watch with the shades closed as the world teeters outside.
Copyright © 2022 by Judd Apatow. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
