Jerry Seinfeld Explains Why He Doesn't Tell Jokes About Childhood Trauma
Not to bring up a cringey memory, but when Jerry Seinfeld was writing his new movie Unfrosted: The Pop-Tart Story, people had only just stopped hoarding toilet paper and wiping down mail.
But even back in the summer of 2020, Seinfeld was steadfastly optimistic. He made peace with holing up at his family’s house in New York’s Long Island while declaring that his beleaguered New York City would return to glory and that he’d be back on stage doing stand-up soon enough.
Four years later, Seinfeld—now Zooming in from his longtime apartment in NYC’s Upper West Side in front of a vintage Superman poster and a handful of framed mementos—looks back on that period with a metaphorical shrug. “The only thing we can control in the world is our attitude,” he says.
It was his attitude, presumably, that allowed him to create something very funny during all that pandemic-induced downtime. Unfrosted: The Pop-Tart Story (now streaming on Netflix) is a whimsical film that chronicles the not-quite-true tale of the race to create the perfect pastry in Battle Creek, Mich., circa 1963. Seinfeld, Jim Gaffigan and Melissa McCarthy are on Team Kellogg’s; Amy Schumer plays real-life heiress and mogul Marjorie Post. Among the many, many amusing cameos: Hugh Grant as a thespian toiling as the Tony the Tiger mascot.
“It’s sort of like the U.S. vs. Russia in The Right Stuff and who can get to the moon first,” explains Seinfeld, who also co-wrote the screenplay and directed the film. Except, you know, it’s about Pop-Tarts and there’s a gag a minute: “We wrote the whole thing over Zoom and it was so much fun that the first script was 200 pages. Every day we would just laugh and laugh.”
Same goes for the vibe on the set. “If things ever got tense, [Seinfeld] would announce to us all, ‘Relax, people. It’s just a Pop-Tart movie’ and everyone would laugh,” says Spike Feresten, an Unfrosted co-writer and longtime collaborator. “But honestly, his comedic eye is operational 24/7 and he has a tremendous work ethic.”
Of course, now that Seinfeld is a freshly minted 70-year-old, it would be easy for a comedian synonymous with a classic show about nothing to do nothing. That’s what comes from co-creating (with Larry David) and starring in Seinfeld, the 1989-98 NBC sitcom that remains relatable and hilarious (and lucrative) more than 25 years after its finale.
But Seinfeld has preferred to stay in the spotlight. He co-wrote and voiced the 2007 animated Bee Movie. For 2012-19’s Emmy-nominated Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, he waxed on the minutiae of life with his pals and idols such as Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Eddie Murphy, Howard Stern and Jerry Lewis. Offscreen, he and his cookbook author wife, Jessica, are parents to Sasha, 23, Julian, 21, and Shepherd, 18.
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Most notable of all, Seinfeld is still devoted to his one true love: stand-up comedy. He continues to hit the road throughout the year to air out his everyday observations and grievances in front of adoring audiences. “I’ve burned out on virtually every other human experience except for being a comedian,” he says. “Doing the movie kind of gave me a feeling of Wow, I really went on every ride in the amusement park. But stand-up comedy is my favorite ride of all.” Seconds Feresten, “He always jokes that when the end is near, he will lock himself in a bunker with a microphone and a transmitter.”
Want quick proof? Seinfeld, who writes all his material in long-hand, keeps his bound yellow legal pad so close to him that he proudly reaches for it on demand and holds it up to the screen at the end of the interview. Later tonight on this gloomy March Tuesday, he’ll test out new material at a local comedy club.
But first: Seinfeld talks about everything from the joys of breakfast to the nonsense of birthdays in this week’s Parade cover story.
Mara Reinstein: Important question: Do you like your Pop-Tarts toasted or untoasted?
Jerry Seinfeld: Toasted. Always. I mean, I can eat cold pizza but I’d rather not.
Eating breakfast has been part of your act for a long time. Why the fascination with it?
Well, cereal is one of the first things as a child that you make, right? You assemble it. You have the bowl and the spoon and the milk and the cereal and we would put sugar on it. Then there was the excitement that you had something to read on the back of the box. At 4 years old, this was heaven.
Did you love directing?
I didn’t think it would be that hard, but it was tiring. It’s a long day. But when I’m doing comedy, I’m just happy. Being funny is what I care about.
And you still really love stand-up?
Yes, I do. I did get a new perspective on it during the pandemic. I appreciate it much more now than I did before. I’m much happier to go to any place and do a show that people want to see.
How do you keep material fresh? Isn’t there a finite number of day-to-day observations in the world?
It’s endless because I’m so irritated by everything in every second of the day. But you do have to find those things that are funny enough. To me, it’s a giant box of LEGO pieces that I have to play with every day to get it right. Right now, I’m trying out something about the suffering of the kitchen sink sponge. No one seems to let this thing die. It looks up at you saying, “I don’t know what you think I have left!”
And after all these decades, you’ve never felt the urge to delve into any sort of childhood trauma?
The Pop-Tarts movie is as traumatic as it gets.
Is it really that cut-and-dry?
For the purpose of this interview, yes! I completely reject this emotional hole. I’ve never operated on that. You don’t have to be an emotional cripple to have fun.
OK, forget childhood. How topical are you getting these days?
I have a bit about A.I. You can’t write comedy with A.I. I’ve read it. It’s terrible because it’s not dumb enough. You need someone dumb to write comedy, and you can’t teach dumb. It’s a gift. It’s so perfectly suited for our time, A.I. We have real dumbness, so let’s add fake smartness.
Can you detect the difference between a crowd in Louisville versus one in Las Vegas?
Yes. If you’re in Louisville, they’re so happy you came to visit them. But there’s a different mood in Las Vegas. They all go, “I can’t believe how much we’re paying for this. It better be great!” So you’re coming out at a different starting line.
Can you honestly still get up for a show and give it your all no matter where you are?
I relate very closely to baseball players that have to play every single day. I love the game. They love the game. But every game is the same, and every game is different. The ball is going to spin differently and bounce differently and you have to make adjustments in a split-second. So I think of myself as a shortstop when I’m doing corporate gigs and private gigs in big cities and small towns. If the ball is hit to me, I try to turn it into an out.
Speaking of: You’re a huge New York Mets fan. Have any predictions for the new season?
I think predictions are the worst thing that human beings do. They’re not good at it. But I do have hope. That’s why they invented spring. You see the flowers grow, and you have hope that things can be good again.
Do people still want to talk to you about Seinfeld all these years later?
Oh, yeah. Whenever I perform at a small club, I ask them if they have questions. Last night a lady wanted to tell me that the show holds up even though it’s quite old. And I asked her, “Why do you think that is?” and she mentioned that some other shows from the ‘90s don’t hold up, but the things that we still talk about haven’t changed at all. Only the phones and the Internet have.
Now that Curb Your Enthusiasm has ended, it feels like the Seinfeld era is truly over.
I think it’s enough. I’m doing a bit about when people die, sometimes you have to hide the fact that you were really tired of that person, and it’s fine that they died.
But don’t you miss “Must-See TV” when all those sitcoms were thriving? The Bear won comedy Emmys, and it’s a pretty dramatic show without a live studio audience.
I remember I had a friend who knew somebody who broke their ankle running up the stairs to watch TV on a Thursday night because they didn’t want to miss the beginning of the show. But I miss it only in terms of the comedic latitude that funny people had in the ‘90s versus the restricted environment of today. And I do think people are packing comedy clubs and theaters to see comedians because you can laugh with other people. And that feels great.
Do you watch a lot of TV?
No, I watch baseball. I watch documentaries because my wife is in a documentary club. I watch old comedy routines on YouTube. And Bill Maher and Jimmy Fallon.
Is there a YouTube clip that always puts you in a good mood?
Yes, I will watch Bernie Mac over and over. Bernie Mac was one of the most skilled and electrifying comedians I’ve ever seen in my life. I will watch with a very critical eye the phrasing, the body movement, the facial expression, the hand gestures. I’ve never seen such an instinctual performer. I also like Pablo Francisco.
So your big birthday is coming up. How are you feeling about it?
Oh, I don’t care about birthdays.
It’s a milestone! There’s no self-reflection about your 60s at all?
I am not tempted into any of that foolishness. You’re an idiot if you think about anything but today.
But Unfrosted is a nostalgic movie. Clearly you like to look back.
Yeah, nostalgia is like candy—it’s just a treat. It’s not a way of life. I don’t like going back. I hate reboots. I hate prequels.
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How can you say that you don’t assess? Many of your peers like Richard Lewis and Garry Shandling are gone.
You and I are both on our way out. So why would you worry about anything? I know it’s very common but I have no interest in that. This is one of the Jewish pieces of the puzzle I didn’t get. It’s just genetic luck.
Did your kids get it?
They do have it. But I’m trying to tell them that you’re stupid if you worry. Worrying is ignorant.
You need to explain why.
What you think is going to happen is not what’s going to happen. It’s going to be something else. So thinking “I just want to make sure I have this so in case this happens that I’m ready and I can do that” and having this whole plan in your head of how it’s going to go is nonsense.
So, are your kids funny?
They’re all funny. They were taught that you can complain all you want but it better be entertaining.
Your youngest is a senior in high school. How are you feeling about the empty nest?
We can go over this again. If it feels depressing or lonely or sad, that’s just a warm-up for something wonderful that’s going to follow.
Then what’s a typical day like for you if you’re not worrying?
I talk on the phone and hang out with other comedians. I take a car out and think about my next set and what material I should leave in or take out. And I try to think about what would make my wife happy.
Before we go, what’s in your background? What’s so important to you that you decided to frame and display it?
I won an award for writing a story for a car magazine about 20 years ago. Automotive journalism was going to be my career if I failed at stand-up comedy. Then there’s a postage stamp that the U.S. postal service issued of the Seinfeld set when they did a special set of iconic television shows. And on the bottom is a photo of me performing in the East Room in the White House in front of Barack Obama and Paul McCartney [in 2010]. That was probably the greatest moment of my career.
Well, even though you don’t like looking back, it’s been an amazing life.
It’s been fun. As long as you love what you’re doing and are engaged with it, nothing else matters.
This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.
