Posts filed under 'tv episodes'
I've gotten lots of great feedback for this episode, which first ran earlier this season. It features a conversation with Chris Gardner and a visit to Glide Memorial Church. Gardner's raw memoir, The Pursuit of Happyness, is a great read -- and the man himself is a deeply compelling person to talk to. A movie of the same title, inspired by Gardner's experiences as a once-homeless single dad who achieved great success, is coming out in a few days. Will Smith plays Chris -- which, I guess, takes that fine actor out of the running to play me one day. I suppose we'll have to go with Paul Giamatti, or maybe Rhea Perlman under lots of prosthetics. ...
You can read my original blog posting about this episode here.
December 11th, 2006
Every once in a great while a TV show comes along that delves more deeply into the human condition than you had ever thought possible -- bringing you to a place of profound understanding, reminding you of your inescapable connection to the tiniest subatomic particle in the universe, taking you on an intellectual and spiritual journey of the highest order. Tonight's episode -- featuring an interview with the effervescent Amy Sedaris -- is not such a show. It was just plain fun.
As a long-time fan of her warped Strangers with Candy TV series -- now also a feature film -- I wouldn't have expected any different. Still, hanging out with her in person was a revelation. Sedaris is a master of what you might call the Comedy of Cruelty: she gaily pricks at stereotypes until they bleed. And yet, like her brother David -- the great humor writer -- Amy has an underlying sweetness and humanity that belies the barbs. No matter how mean she might pretend to be, you like her, you really like her.
The same goes for her new book, the coffee-table-sized I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence. Packed into its glossy pages are numerous examples of Sedaris's twisted wit, along with loads of really delicious-looking recipes (not counting, of course, those for fake cakes). Like its author, it's simultaneously heartfelt and irreverent. And bunny-friendly. Yes, Amy Sedaris loves rabbits. We proved that definitively on this show as well.
All in all, having this hostess with the mostest as our guest was a deeply giddy experience. So hey, I take back what I said before: This show was deep.
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November 20th, 2006
Since I was going to be interviewing one of our great photographers, Annie Leibovitz, on a whim I brought my little digital camera to the station on the morning we taped this show (which airs tonight at 7:30 and on Friday night at 10:30).
See a slideshow of my photos.
As I entered the building, feeling a bit frantic and nervous as usual, I was instantly calmed by the friendly greetings of security guard Lois Combs and receptionist Naty Panameno. Ever since I started doing this job, Naty has been giving me pep talks each morning, assuring me that my rampant insecurities are entirely unfounded. She also does wonderful humanitarian work, drawing in the entire KQED staff on her various projects. Lois and Naty really help set the tone for the community of us workers at the station, as well as our many visitors.
Up on the third floor, where my cubicle is, I cajoled JK Show associate producer Elizabeth Pepin to let me snap her picture. It is highly weird that Elizabeth is as reluctant as she is to be photographed, considering that (a) she's obviously very photogenic and (b) she is herself a tremendously gifted photographer and filmmaker. (Her beautiful documentary, One Woman's Story, recently had a smash premiere at the Mill Valley Film Festival.) When I first auditioned for this TV-interviewing gig, Elizabeth was my "guest"; we talked about her photography, and she put me totally at ease (well, almost totally). And now we work together! (By the way, Elizabeth, if you read this: I'm totally putting together some Mountain Goats CD's to give you -- sorry it's taken me so long.)
Soon it was time for me to go into makeup. What's that, you say? Kornbluth needs makeup? To which I answer: Heck, yes! I mean, if my enormous shiny forehead weren't heavily powdered, the lights bouncing off my noggin would get so bright that viewers would have to squint fearfully at the screen. Plus, I've found that just a little eyeliner gives me a bit more Oprah-osity, not to mention making me look at least six weeks younger. And the delightful person who expertly applies this makeup is Moroccan-born, French-raised Kadidja Sallak. Show me a person who cannot be charmed by Kadidja, and I will show you an extremely inanimate object.
Now it was time to tape the interview, so I strolled into our studio and, as usual, marveled at what a great bunch of folks I get to work with here. Camera operator Harry Betancourt (pictured with happy-go-lucky floor director Randy Brase) is -- like my late father -- from the Bronx, and I kind of look up to him as a father figure on the set. Also doing their best to try -- somehow! -- to make me look good are camera operator Rick Santangelo, lighting director and camera op Jim McKee (pictured in muscle-man pose), and video wizard Eric Shackelford (pictured with video-testing graphic thingie).
I bet that all these intensely visual gentlemen were as jazzed as I was to see Annie Leibovitz walk in -- a profoundly down-to-earth person, I immediately sensed. She and I chatted as the crew got set up, and then we had the conversation you will see tonight. I was so taken with her relaxed intimacy that I apparently didn't activate my internal memory chip -- thus I don't have much of a recollection of what we actually said, just that our brief time together was immensely gratifying to me. I do know that we talked about the intensely personal photograph collection she's just published, A Photographer's Life: 1990-2005, which limns her most intimate relationships -- notably with her lover, the late Susan Sontag: very, very moving.
In the middle of our interview, we took a break to watch a "Wandering Josh" I had done in which I had a brief encounter with the great actress Helen Mirren, star of the addictive Prime Suspect series (now running on our station) and, most recently, the sly and marvelous new Stephen Frears movie, The Queen. Dame Helen was as articulate and gracious as any interviewer could dream of -- and it was a thrill to do even a short stand-up with her. (My Benevolent Webmistress also lets on that Mirren is her all-time favorite actor, so I know I'm not the only person around here who's verklempt about all this.)
As we ended the taping, Leibovitz grabbed my little camera -- which, living in hope, I had placed near where we were sitting -- and snapped a bunch of pictures of me, ending with a nice photo of the two of us. I guess it wasn't quite as glamorous as, say, Tom & Katie & little Suri, but fans of pix of near-sighted Jewish people should find much to enjoy in the image.
All in all, a picture-perfect day on the job. ...
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November 13th, 2006
Of the many thrills I've experienced while holding down this magical talk-show-hosting job, chatting about music with Michael Tilson Thomas (tonight at 7:30; repeated on Friday night at 10:30) has to rank near the top. Amateur players like me (the oboe is my affliction of choice) rarely get to share our passion with world-class musicians like MTT -- so just to be able to ask my burning questions was a pleasure in itself. But what made the experience really swing for me was that MTT came back at me with his own passion for educating the public about classical music -- a form whose complexity (compared to pop music, at least) can seem daunting. In the marvelous series Keeping Score: Revolutions in Music -- a collaboration between the members of the San Francisco Symphony and their renowned music director -- Thomas guides the viewer towards the soul of some great pieces and their creators, showing the music to be both accessible and immensely rewarding.
When I was a kid, my godmother, an Auschwitz survivor named Edith Solomon, would bring me to Leonard Bernstein's young people's concerts at Philharmonic Hall. Edith, a flutist, was a gaunt woman of few words, but these events -- through Bernstein's great charisma and pedagogical gifts -- were a way for us to share something transcendent and meaningful. Talking with MTT put me in mind of those wonderful afternoon concerts, and I'm delighted that -- in conjunction with Keeping Score's debut this week on our very own KQED -- we are rebroadcasting this, our first show of this season. (To read my original blog post about this episode, click here.) And now, if you'll excuse me, I have get back to practicing my squawkerator -- um, I mean, oboe. ...
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November 6th, 2006
It was a thrill for me to interview UCLA historian Gary Nash, my guest on tonight's show (at 7:30; repeated on Friday night at 10:30). Nash's latest book, The Unknown American Revolution: The Unruly Birth of Democracy and the Struggle to Create America, brings together a panoply of amazing-but-true stories about the lesser-known people who contributed to the American Revolution. As Nash writes in the introduction:
We cannot capture the "life and soul" of the Revolution without paying close attention to the wartime experiences and agendas for change that engrossed backcountry farmers, urban craftsmen, deep-blue mariners, female camp followers and food rioters -- those ordinary people who did most of the protesting, most of the fighting, most of the dying, and most of the dreaming about how a victorious America might satisfy the yearnings of all its peoples.
Like Nash -- and like most of us, I imagine -- I have enormous respect for our famous Founding Fathers. They were, for the most part, brilliant political thinkers and doers, and we are all in their debt. But they were not gods, and they did not achieve the Revolution by themselves. The full story is not only richer and more complex, it also allows us non-geniuses of today to find meaningful connections to our nation's founding: politics then were as messy and divisive as politics now. Too often, our history seems like a distant, static thing -- dead and permanent, like marble. What Gary Nash brings us is a historical narrative that we can connect with -- like us, it's alive, contradictory, glorious. He gives us a history that we can not only study, but participate in as well. ...
I also wanted to see how others in the Bay Area felt connected (or dis-) to American history, so my crew and I walked around San Francisco to chat with folks on the street. As you can see in the resulting "Wandering Josh" segment, from the Fillmore to North Beach (where I got an earful from S.F.'s current poet laureate, Jack Hirschman, outside his beloved Caffe Trieste), people had lots to say on the subject. I hope they -- and you -- find Nash's stories as provocative and inspiring as I did.
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October 30th, 2006
My memory of the taping of the show that airs tonight (at 7:30; repeated on Friday night at 10:30) is somewhat hazy. But I have an excuse: I was drinking!
Wait, that didn't come out right. What I meant to say is that one of my guests, the vivacious Leslie Sbrocco, brought in a bunch of wines for me to try -- and, dutiful host that I am, I sampled each of them. Leslie, who of course is the host of KQED's Check, Please! Bay Area, also happens to be a world-class expert on wines. And since she's just come out with a new book titled The Simple & Savvy Wine Guide: Buying, Pairing, and Sharing for All, I thought this would be the perfect time to challenge her to put her palate where her mouth is (that didn't come out right, either!) -- and find the perfect wines to pair with a series of increasingly difficult-seeming foods. Not only did she come through with flying colors, but she also showed a frightening dexterity with a saber -- so I certainly wasn't going to challenge her choices, even if I disagreed with them.
For anyone who may have caught the show already and wanted to check up on the suggested food-and-wine pairings, Leslie was kind enough to supply your humble blogger with reminders and extra tips (thanks, Leslie!). Here's what she wrote:
- Food: Pad Thai, or other Asian spicy foods
Wine Pairings: German Riesling or Dry Rose
Tip: These white wine help off set the spicy character of the food with their sweetness. The pairing here proves that opposites attract and complement each other. Spicy Thai or Vietnamese cuisine is a perfect pairing with these wines, as they quench the fiery flavors.
- Food: Pastrami sandwich
Wine Pairings: California Zinfandel or Australian Shiraz
Tip: Bold red wines pair perfectly with the peppery kick of the pastrami. In this case we matched the flavors: the smoky, hardy, and peppery characters of both the wine and pastrami prove that like-flavors are a marriage in the mouth.
- Food: Rice Krispies Treats
Wine Pairings: Late Harvest Pinot Gris
Tip: When it comes to desserts and dessert wines, the key is to serve a wine that is as sweet, or sweeter, than the dessert. Another secret is to match the color of the wine with the food. Golden-colored sweet wines pair well with light-color deserts, while ruby or dark purple wines are ideal with chocolate cake or brownies.
- Food: Popcorn, or potato chips
Wine Pairings: Sparkling Cava or California Sparkling Wine
Tip: Zesty sparkling wines offset the salty richness of the food while delivering palate-cleansing freshness.
After hanging out with Leslie at the kitchen counter, I moved -- or, more accurately, staggered -- over to the couch for a delightful and informative conversation with nutritionist Miguel Villareal. Miguel, a passionate advocate of proper nutrition for schoolchildren, showed me how to make delicious organic wraps that kids will actually eat -- and enjoy!
And to top that off, wouldn't you know it? Leslie came over with a perfect wine to pair with the wraps (for grownups only, of course).
All in all, it was a hecka-fun taping -- at least, that's what people tell me. ...
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October 23rd, 2006
If there is a calmer person on Earth than Judy Lundblad of Fearless Driver (a.k.a. Ann's Driving School), then that person is either asleep or dead. So I'll stick with Judy as my driving instructor. As documented in the "Wandering Josh" segment on tonight's show (at 7:30; repeated on Friday night at 10:30), the preternaturally serene Judy recently took me through the forbidding streets of San Francisco on my first-ever driving lesson. Now, you may be thinking that 47 is rather a late age for me to be learning how to drive, but in my defense let me say this: I'm from New York. Also, I have always depended on the kindness of strange drivers. But sometime last year, as I sat in an isolated hotel room on a strip mall somewhere in Florida, with nothing (except ice, lots and lots of ice) available via foot, I became determined to finally evolve into an auto-man; a few months later, I had my learner's permit; and now this: actual driving! I have to say it was pretty cool -- though someone should really do something about putting the brake so close to the gas pedal. ...
And actually, just that someone was one of my in-studio guests! The amazingly young Vicki Vlachakis is an extremely successful car designer, and she was kind enough to stop by and explain some aspects of her craft to me. (If you're intrigued by a career in auto design yourself, you can get some info here.)
Also stopping by was the amazingly younger Dane Cameron, a local teenager who -- barely out of high school -- is already a champion racer. Not having yet reached either automotive or emotional maturity myself, I was somewhat nervous about talking with this accomplished young driver, but right away I realized that someone poised enough to zoom around a track at ridiculous speeds would have little trouble dealing with a coffee-swilling neurotic. And sure enough, Dane handled my loopy questions with an impressive equanimity. ...
By the way, in the not-too-distant future (after taking some more lessons from Judy) I hope to actually get my driver's license. If the spirits (and the DMV) are friendly enough, I may even be able to do it on camera. As for the post-test celebration, my tentative plans are to rent a car and re-enact the chase scene from Bullitt -- though I'm certainly open to alternate suggestions. ...
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October 16th, 2006
Making tonight's program (at 7:30; repeated on Friday night at 10:30) was quite a moving experience. My in-studio guest, Chris Gardner, is a remarkable man who has succeeded despite terrible hardship -- as vividly described in his new memoir, The Pursuit of Happyness. Gardner suffered through a trying childhood with a brutal stepfather, as well as an early adulthood in the Bay Area that at one point found him and his young son spending nights in a BART station restroom. The fact that he was able to lift himself up out of those situations and become a successful stockbroker -- and, more impressive, a loving, constant father to his children -- certainly explains why Hollywood was inspired to make a soon-to-be-released movie based on his life (starring Will Smith). But what could possibly explain the resilience that allowed him to keep on going, despite everything? That question was at the top of my mind as we sat down to chat. And as raw and revealing as his book can be, I found him in person to be even more accessible -- one of those interviewees who are alive and present for each moment of our conversation.
Preparing for the interview, my crew and I went out to do a field piece at Glide Memorial Church, where Gardner -- in his bleakest hours -- had received invaluable support. (He's now a major contributor to the church's many social programs.) I couldn't have had a better guide: The Rev. Cecil Williams himself, who has led Glide for decades, took me around the church's Tenderloin neighborhood. At one point, we witnessed a heartbreaking encounter between Rev. Williams and a young woman on the street who had approached him. The woman was clearly going through a tremendously hard time, and Williams received her with great kindness and respect; the moment was so intimate that my crew and I almost felt as if we were intruding by simply being there. Even watching the footage later, with our editor, I found myself moved beyond words.
Life can be so hard -- especially for those whom society has, in its neglect, tacitly labeled as expendable. Through the loving efforts of people such as those in the Glide community, the Chris Gardners of the world can sometimes actually experience the happiness that we are all supposed to be free to pursue.
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October 9th, 2006
Apparently, according to some obscure publication called Esquire, Joseph Pineda is the best-dressed "real" man in America. It is a measure of my legendary politeness as a host that, during our on-air conversation in tonight's episode (airing at 7:30 p.m., and repeated on Friday at 10:30 p.m.), I never mentioned the glaring fact that Esquire's fashion researchers didn't bother to put me in the running for this accolade. Still, I have to admit, Pineda did look sharp -- especially after the grueling drive from Richmond (where he lives and works as a real-estate agent) to our San Francisco studios.
He was helping me explore the subject of fashion -- a new passion of mine ever since my whole family got hooked on Bravo's fashion-designing reality show Project Runway. As Heidi Klum says on that program -- repeatedly, and in her bracingly clipped Teutonic accent -- "In fashion, one day you're in and the next [pause for dramatic effect] ... you're out." 
So we wanted to make sure we got to talk with Pineda and our other guests, local clothiers Umay Mohammed and Marie Biscarra of Nisa, before the cognoscenti could deem them "fashion-backward." (Though having met them all, I predict that they will forever remain way ahead of the fashion curve.)
I also wandered over to something called "Fashion Boot Camp" (part of San Francisco Fashion Week), where I received expert advice on how I might leverage my aquiline features into a lucrative modeling career. It all got pretty intense. By the time photographer James Reid was done with me, I felt almost too sexy, if such a thing is possible. ...
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October 2nd, 2006
So it was Sept. 1, the first taping day of our new (second) season, and I strolled into the KQED building with a selection of the shirts my wife makes for me, along with a couple Tupperwares of cookies that my sister-in-law Nancy had home-baked for my guest, San Francisco Symphony maestro Michael Tilson Thomas, and our crew. Slung over my shoulder was a case containing the oboe that I had borrowed from the Symphony's soon-to-retire English horn player, Julie Ann Giacobassi. The idea was that I was going to play a bit of oboe for MTT -- though, after a lesson earlier that week with Symphony principal oboist Bill Bennett had reminded me of why I'd long ago given up on becoming a professional musician (I lacked talent), the idea was filling me with a certain amount of dread. Then again, dread is the constant friend of performers everywhere (not to mention Jews), so I guess I was feeling pretty much at home.
Upon my arrival on the third floor, the workday began for me as it normally does -- by chatting with the lovely and enigmatic Margarite Jackson da Silva, who seems to bestow upon our floor a kind of beneficent watchfulness. She's way cool, and I suspect she understands many of the secrets of the universe, though if so she's not telling. Officially, Margarite provides all kinds of support for my executive producer, KQED programming director Michael Isip; when I first came to interview with Michael for this job, she instantly relaxed me by pointing out the postcard in her workspace from Haiku Tunnel, the neurotic secretarial movie I'd made with my brother Jake.
A short walk among the cubicles and I reached my own, which, conveniently, is just opposite that of my series producer, Lori Halloran. I showed Lori my shirt selection, we decided on one, and then we talked over how we were going to try to approach the interview. Each on-air conversation is an improvisation between me and the guest, shot pretty much in real time, so of course you can't predict exactly what's going to happen. But since I was going to be playing the oboe for MTT (who, as it turns out, had studied the oboe himself, and so is well aware of the instrument's sadomasochistic effects on those who try to master it), there were certain matters of staging to work out. Also, I was going to be doing my little opening monologue with my guest already in the studio (something we didn't do in our first season), making reshoots inadvisable -- so we wanted to figure out how I'd get myself, and my oboe, from a downstage stool over to MTT on the couch, in a relatively smooth fashion (or at least with nobody getting killed, and no oboes damaged).
As if on cue, as Lori and I discussed this stuff my director, Kevin Kastle, ambled over. Kevin always seems to be happy and relaxed -- which ends up relaxing me (no mean feat). Kevin and Lori speak to each other in the secret language of people who actually (unlike me) know how television works -- listening to them talking in technicalese, I feel kind of like I did as a little boy when my maternal grandparents spoke Yiddish to each other and I wondered what in the world they might be saying. (Though I think it's fair to generalize that Kevin's and Lori's interactions are a lot less fraught with bitterness than grandma and grandpa's were -- maybe it's because neither of them came from Russia.)
Eventually Lori and Kevin headed down to the second floor, to brief the crew on the approaching taping, while I swung around the corner to say hi to our new intern, a talented young filmmaker named Victor Tran, who was deeply focused on logging the footage from a "Wandering Josh" shoot. (Nonetheless, I did manage to elicit this action photo of him.) Victor's done a hypnotic and cool short doc, titled "The One Inch Punch," that's become a cult hit on YouTube; watch it here, if you dare. It's great to have him around this season, and I can tell it will be a challenge to break his spirit (the ultimate fate of all interns everywhere), especially given his martial-arts background.
Finally, it was showtime. I went downstairs to the studio, got miked up, poured myself some very strong coffee, soaked my oboe reeds, and chatted with our wonderfully warm crew. (The studio itself, by contrast, is wonderfully cold -- I love it that way, and the crew members, huddled in sweaters and shawls and such, are kind enough to indulge me.) MTT -- taller than I'd expected, and with a disarming graciousness -- came in and took his place on the couch. Clutching Julie's oboe, I took my place on the stool, reminding myself not to try to force anything -- to let the interview unfold however it may (though I knew I'd be taking at least a few minutes to rave about the San Francisco Symphony's extraordinary new public-TV series, Keeping Score: Revolutions in Music, which MTT hosts). The countdown ensued, and about a half-hour later the taping was over. What happened in between remains, as always, quite hazy in my memory, but can be witnessed tonight on our season premiere at 7:30 (and on Friday night at 10:30). I do recall that I played the oboe and that nobody died -- so I'd have to guess that, all in all, it was a good day.
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September 25th, 2006
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