The recently released Not Just the Best of The Larry Sanders Show collects 23 of the most memorable episodes of the series back from when HBO was still establishing itself as an original programming giant and celebrity walk-ons actually impressed us. Created by and starring Garry Shandling, who worked as a guest host for Johnny Carson, the show had Shandling playing Sanders, a vain, neurotic late-night host who relies on his staff to shield him from the uncomfortable situations that stem from his personal interactions with his celebrity guests.
Currently, a glut of shows allow us a peek behind the curtain of stardom, an image of money, sex and the privileges of fame—things that generally motivate the young and overly eager. But Sanders, middle-aged and neurotic (while remaining vain and pampered), is near the end of that train ride. Standing alongside his cigar puffing, Korean War veteran producer Artie (Rip Torn) and Hank Kingsley (Jeffrey Tambor), his girl-chasing, Bentley-driving sidekick, Sanders represents Hollywood in its mid-life crisis. And while young viewers may not be all that familiar with the previous generation of great character actors, they’re sure to recognize the shows then up-and-coming ensemble: Sarah Silverman, Jeremy Piven, Janeane Garofalo, Bob Odenkirk and, of course, Jon Stewart, who actually replaced Shandling’s Sanders as the host in the series finale. I guess Artie was right when he said, “Young people are a delight, and eventually they’ll try to steal our jobs.”
While the episodes make for a nice reminder of the show’s significance, it’s the supplemental materials that deserve the most attention: commentaries, documentaries, deleted scenes and Shandling’s attempt to capture a raw, unedited look into his relationships with a selection of the show’s most famous guests. The results are definitely mixed, but watching Jerry Seinfeld chat with his wife over his blue tooth about his missing jacket or seeing Shandling go head-to-head with Alec Baldwin in a boxing ring makes up for Sharon Stone, who radiates pretension as she tries to seem complex while speaking in code from the kitchen of her pool house. Ick.

