Martin Short Says He's Wiser With Age

How is comedy different now from when you got started? 

I don’t know that it is. Comedy is so subjective. I love the Three Stooges. You might hate them. It doesn’t make either one of us a moron. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the Mike Nichols and Elaine May album from their Broadway show. When you listen to it, it’s 1960, and I think it’s as relevant today as it was then. The characters work, and the choices are as funny as if you were seeing Second City in Chicago this evening. It’s crazy just how hip and current they were.

How do you keep your comedy current — or timeless? 

Once in the 1990s, Christopher Guest asked me, “Do you ever think in terms of no longer being current? Do you worry that another kind of comedy that you don’t find funny will take over?” And it had never even entered my mind. I think that was the last time I gave it thought, because it doesn’t really matter to me. At the age of 68, I continue to go with my instinct of what I think is funny, and I continue to make a living. That’s all that really matters. I’m not a big believer in shelf life.  

Do you have a bucket list of things you’d like to do? 

No. If I had wanted to go to India, I would have done it. If I’d wanted to direct a film or a play or a TV show, I would have. My life lists are more pragmatic. For decades, I’ve maintained a list according to several categories of well-being: health, family, friends, money, career, creativity, self-discipline and lifestyle. Periodically, I give myself a report card. It shows what needs to be shored up. Health: Have I had my annual physical? Friends: Do I need to phone so-and-so? To me, life is a practical experience each day, with a coating of “Be as happy as you can be” on top. When I was a little boy in grade two, as we Canadians like to say, the question was posed, “What is the most important thing in life?” And my response was, “To be happy.” If you’re lucky enough, part of that is being a helpful spirit to the people you love. That’s what takes you from day to day. 

How did you come to that philosophy — a sort of pragmatic pursuit of happiness? 

Not long after I finished university, I realized that success isn’t just about your career. It’s similar to a GPA: determined by the whole picture, not one course. So even if you’re failing in one category, you can create a good, happy life if you shore up the other categories. And that’s what I’ve tried to do. 

What’s your favorite thing about getting older?

Well, I definitely think I’m wiser now. You would like to think that you’ll have the wisest version of yourself on the last day you live. Also, there was a time in my life when I’d face an audience and I’d have to start by winning them over. Now when they see Steve and me come out, they go, “There they are!” We’ve already won them over with our careers up to that point. So that’s nice.

You lost your wife, Nancy, to cancer after almost 30 years of marriage. How has that affected you? 

Our marriage was a triumph. So it’s tough. She died in 2010, but I still communicate with her all the time. It’s “Hey, Nan,” you know? How would she react to this decision or that, especially regarding our three kids. I believe that when people die, they zoom into the people that love them. This idea that it just ends, and don’t speak of them — that’s wrong. That’s based on denial that we’re all going to die. So to me, she’s still here. At the same time, her death emboldened me to take risks. With real tragedy, you become a little more daring. It’s the yin to the yang: the positive part of life’s dark side.

—As told to David Hochman