I caught Sarah Silverman on Letterman last night. I’m thinking this is about the greatest height her career can reach, and I’ll be glad when she slides away into obscurity.
The first time I saw the awkward-making she calls comedy I thought it was interesting – as a single bit. The truth is though, you can’t create a memorable multi-decade career with such one note material, ask Carrot Top or Gallagher or Yakoff Smirnoff.
I do think it’s worth mentioning though, because her character represents something of a demarcation point.
In the same way that Andrew Dice Clay’s (brief) fame was made on the backlash to the ’80s image of strong women in positions of corporate and political power, combined with the general ’90s societal movement towards Political Correctness, Silverman’s career is made on the dying gasps of the notion that women are either saints or sluts, with no shades of gray.
Certainly important ground to unhallow, but her point is lost when the humour is out of it – and currently it’s like she’s held on to a single Sacha Baron Cohen caricature a half decade past its due date.
Her comedy is almost a necessary venting function for societal noxious gas, but I’ll be glad when we’re done belching and can move on.