Stacy had
traces of
Gilda Radner
and Lily Tomlin,
but she was
also uniquely
Poehler—
endearingly
spastic, with a
big magnetic
grin quivering
just below the
surface.
You could say that Amy Poehler is a
blond bombshell, in the funniest sense.
If you said it to her, she’d probably cackle
and then follow with a quick burst of
commentary, managing satire and sincerity in the same breath. That’s the
thing about the 39-year-old comedian
and actor: She can be equally sarcastic
and charismatic, almost e;ortlessly
so. She has a real knack for wrapping
piquant improvisation inside genuine
aw-shucks charm.
On the live stage and in front of
the camera, this approach has carried
Poehler through two decades of laughs,
from Chicago’s sketch comedy proving
grounds to Saturday Night Live to Hollywood feature films. More recently it has
enabled her to broaden her comedic art
as the star of an NBC prime-time television series, Parks and Recreation. Much
of Poehler’s early work sprang from
rambunctious physical comedy, but with
Parks she has tapped into some quieter
aspects of humor and humanity.
Who could really get folks to tune in
to a show about a bunch of listless local
bureaucrats in fictional small-town
Indiana? Leslie Knope, that’s who—the
spunky, optimistic, if somewhat clueless deputy parks director played by
Poehler with verve and at times visible relish. The series debuted in 2009
to tepid reviews, then built up some
critical steam, thanks to Poehler. It was
renewed by NBC for a third season, but
was held back as a midseason replacement, returning this January for a college try.
Quieter Antics
Parks and Recreation is the latest among
the so-called mockumentary genre,
which immigrated to prime time by
way of Ricky Gervais’ transfixing Brit-
ish series The O;ce and its popular
Americanized version starring Steve
Carell. The genre gets a fresh touch in
Poehler’s hands. Sure, the ensemble cast
produces a familiar cascade of awkward
missteps and deadpan confessions,
and there’s plenty of posturing for the
faux-documentary cameras. The setting
and subject matter can feel obtuse. But
Poehler carries things along—Knope
clearly is striving for something, and it’s
warmer and more heartfelt than what
typically motivates the genre’s a;rma-
tion-starved middle managers.
In a recent interview, Poehler spoke
at length about shaping the show with
creators Greg Daniels and Michael Schur
(both former SNL writers) and expanding
beyond the ephemera of sketch comedy.
“What I’m proud of about Parks and
Rec is that it doesn’t always shy away from
smaller moments and always go for the
big joke,” she says. “We can have these
kind of sweeter moments that have some
real pathos, and I really like to play those.”
“The fight against cynicism is, I think,
in many ways the theme of the show,”
Poehler says. “It’s fun with a character
to go back and forth between feeling
defeated and feeling optimistic.
“In many ways I had spent the last
eight years with my tap shoes on, right?”
she continues, referring to her accomplishments in sketch comedy. “I was
looking forward to being a little quieter!”
Still, a comic series quickly becomes a
canceled one if it’s not funny. The show’s
existential strands necessarily are woven
in with lots of antics—and Poehler still
gets to play to her comedic tendencies.
For instance, in the first episode of the
series, she notes with a chuckle, “I, uh,
fell down a hill into a pit.”
Left: Poehler as Stacy, Andy
Richter’s little sister who was
obsessed with Conan O’Brien.
Right page: Poehler with Parks
and Recreation castmates Paul
Schneider, Aziz Ansari, Rashida
Jones and Nick O;erman.
