The Larry Sanders Show Final episode May 31, 10 p.m., HBO Repeated June 3, midnight Reruns of sixth season episodes begin June 1, 11 p.m. A L S O_.T O D A Y Blue Glow Mickey Rourke is back; Bill Paxton stars in new Vietnam drama Lolita Reviewed by Charles Taylor Nymphet mania: Lyne's unprovocative film and America's sexual hysteria Phil Hartman, 1948 - 1998 By Joyce Millman With Phil Hartman's shocking death, we lose one of TV's most accomplished and ubiquitous commedians Y E S T E R D A Y The Last Days of Disco Reviewed by Laura Miller Whit Stillman flashes back to the heyday of Studio 54 (05/28/98) Celebrated Whit By Laura Miller Salon interviews "Last Days of Disco" director Whit Stillman (05/28/98) R E C E N T_. T E L E V I S I O N You go, girls By Joyce Millman Time's up for "Murphy Brown" and "Ellen," but they were once TV's women of the hour (05/18/98) Cheerio, "Seinfeld" By Joyce Millman Saying goodbye to the greatest sitcom of all time (05/04/98) Tubbythumping By Joyce Millman Let the Teletubbies bashing begin (04/03/98) Let my people go -- to the movies By Joyce Millman A new cable documentary profiles the Jewish immigrants who founded Hollywood, but lost their cultural identity (03/19/98) Dawson's crock By Joyce Millman Funded by deep-pocket publicity, the puerile "Dawson's Creek" has tricked some TV critics into treating it like a hit (03/16/98) Are you a crystal vase? By Joyce Millman If you can answer these 20 questions, you've watched way too much of the Olympics (02/18/98) BROWSE THE TV ARCHIVES COLUMNS FEATURES

[ J O Y C E_.M I L L M A N__O N_.T E L E V I S I O N ] ______"The Larry Sanders Show" signs off after six seasons, but creator Shandling and his alter ego remain inseparable _______________"The Larry Sanders Show," Garry Shandling's splendidly caustic satire of the egotism, back stabbing and jealousy behind the scenes of a hit TV show, is ending its six-season HBO run May 31 amid a real-life tangle of lawsuits that seems to have a lot to do with ... the egotism, back stabbing and jealousy behind the scenes of a hit TV show. Earlier this year, Shandling sued longtime manager/producer Brad Grey for allegedly diverting writers from "Sanders" into other sitcoms (notably NBC's "NewsRadio" and "Just Shoot Me") and not cutting him in on the profits; Grey counter-sued. It is testimony to how cunningly "Larry Sanders" mixes up life and art that you can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins. "Sanders," which debuted August 1992, was not the first comedy series in which Shandling blurred the line between TV and reality. From 1986 to 1990, he produced, wrote and starred in the surreal sitcom "It's Garry Shandling's Show" for cable's Showtime network (episodes were broadcast on then-fledgling Fox a week after Showtime aired them). On "It's Garry Shandling's Show" (which had been rejected by the major networks), Shandling played himself living a sitcom version of his life surrounded by kooky neighbors and friends. Shandling would often turn to the camera and directly address viewers -- the "breaking the fourth wall" bit George Burns pioneered in the '50s on the "Burns and Allen Show." "It's Garry Shandling's Show" was the first series to create a critical buzz outside the narrow pay-cable universe. Even if you never saw a minute of "It's Garry Shandling's Show," you've seen its influence: "Seinfeld" had the same stand-up/sitcom premise, heavy on the neuroses. Between "It's Garry Shandling's Show" and the much-honored "Larry Sanders Show" (20 CableAce Awards, a Peabody Award, best supporting actor Emmy for co-star Rip Torn), Shandling is responsible for some of the most inventive TV comedy of the past decade. He's also one of cable's trailblazers, helping to change the industry's image from movie rerunner to source of high-stakes original programming. Both of Shandling's shows experimented with and dismantled TV formulas; "It's Garry Shandling's Show" spoofed sitcom artifice, while "Larry Sanders" gave us the late-night talk show as a hall of mirrors. On "Sanders," you never quite knew what was a gag and what was real. Celebrities like Robin Williams, Dana Carvey, David Duchovny and Ellen DeGeneres (to name a few) played themselves -- or convincingly unflattering and weird versions of themselves. The fictional Larry was a selfish, unreasonable and insecure boss; in recent articles about Shandling's lawsuit in the New Yorker and Entertainment Weekly, more than one embittered former "Larry Sanders" staffer claims that Shandling was Sanders. "The Larry Sanders Show," which was written by, among others, Judd Apatow ("The Cable Guy"), Chris Thompson ("The Naked Truth"), Steve Levitan ("Just Shoot Me"), Paul Simms ("NewsRadio") and Shandling himself, picked up where Andy Kaufman left off, putting itself on the emotional edge, toying with viewers' comfort levels. It was funny and disturbing and provocative and, maybe, just a big setup. But, for those who've followed the psychodrama-rich history of late-night talk show hosting, Larry's persona -- a mixture of the aloof Carson, the self-loathing Letterman and the pathologically competitive Leno -- had the sting of truth. Here was a darkly funny, often ugly, peek at Hollywood's ulcer-ridden underbelly. Every week on "Larry Sanders," anxiety over losing stature in the showbiz pecking order reduced grown men to tears; failure was an almost palpable presence. Whenever Larry or his buffoonish, mean second banana Hank Kingsley (the utterly fearless Jeffrey Tambor) screwed up, or were screwed over, their first terrified response was always, What will people say? And it was always left to fixers like Larry's avuncular, wonderfully foul-mouthed producer Artie (Rip Torn) to massage egos and save face. Sanders himself was one of TV's greatest jerks. He was egotistical, needy, self-centered, paranoid, cruel, emotionally isolated -- in short, a classic Hollywood success casualty. Over the course of the show, Larry went through many crises of body and soul (heart attack, addictions, divorces, betrayals of trust), but he never seemed to learn anything about himself. His talk show was a metaphor for a life lived on the surface, where everything -- even the ad libs -- was scripted. By the final season, Larry would only date women who were guests on his show and then, only if they were good guests. Without a host's desk between him and the world, Larry couldn't function. He fumbled and fled when conversations got too personal, or when he was required to give anything of himself (a few weeks ago, there was a priceless moment when he attended a memorial for a longtime stagehand, but he wouldn't get up to speak until Artie gave him a crowd-warming introduction). Earlier this year, in his only heroic act in six seasons, Larry told off the network suits who forced him to lose the desk (and scamper through the audience shaking hands) in an attempt to attract younger viewers. He endured one show without his desk -- his shield, his dignity, his potency, his identity -- and then informed the network that he was quitting in a month when his contract was up and, by the way, he wants his desk back, NOW. The one-hour May 31 finale will be done like Johnny Carson's farewell tour, with stars coming on the show-within-a-show to bid Larry goodbye (the guest list includes Warren Beatty, Jerry Seinfeld, Jim Carrey, Tom Petty, Duchovny and DeGeneres). If leaks about the finale are to be trusted (the episode has not been made available to critics), Larry wigs out when the reality of life without a desk and an audience hits him. Which makes perfect sense because, most of all, "Larry Sanders" was about the powerful, soul-sucking seductiveness of celebrity. Some of the show's funniest and sharpest moments -- and some of its saddest and most intimate -- came when Larry watched himself on the tube. Nothing else turned him on this way; he was enthralled with, in love with, his TV self. Five hours a week he was Larry Sanders; the rest of the time, he was bored with himself for being human. The paradox of "Larry Sanders" is this: A show about people too damn famous to have feelings was the one comedy on TV that could make you cry. SALON | May 29, 1998 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - R E L A T E D_.S A L O N_.S T O R I E S Comedy Isn't Cuddly HBO's "Larry Sanders" and "Mr. Show" know the first rule of satire is: take no prisoners. By Joyce Millman Nov. 11, 1996