Who Stole the Funny?: A Novel of Hollywood Book

Robby Benson draws from his 15 years of experience in Hollywood to create a week in the life of "self-made man-child" director, J.T. Baker, brought in to salvage a sitcom pilot for separate, self-serving reasons by its network execs, studio heads, and directors.

A wickedly delicious roman à clef about the making of a sitcom called My Urban Buddies (aka Friends), this satirical romp answers the question for those who ever wondered what went on behind the scenes in the production of their favorite sitcom. Robby Benson can tell you, and does, in the novel Who Stole the Funny?, in which programmed-for-success director J.T. Baker has to bring an up-and-coming sitcom to fruition after its initial director shoots himself in the head with a nail gun. Thoughtfully annotated with helpful and enlightening Hollywood glossary terms, ("Creative-type director: One who has no hope of working in this town again"; "Eccentric: Affecting a style of dress, coiffure, speech, mannerisms, etc. carefully calculated to give the impression of creative credibility") Who Stole the Funny? takes place in an exaggerated world of crazy writers, backstabbing directors, foul-mouthed everyone-elses, and hardcore cynics.

With fast-paced scenes, hilarious dialogue, and the ridiculous inner monologues behind them, Who Stole the Funny? will make you think twice about what's going on behind every innocuous group of urban roommates you've ever fallen for on TGIF.

Publishers Weekly

Drawing on his experience directing Friends, Benson offers in his debut a derivative parody of behind-the-scenes Los Angeles that fails to skewer any of its easy targets. Has-been sitcom director J.T. Baker, a "passionate schmuck" in a self-imposed exile from Hollywood, is picked to helm the hit show I LoveMy Urban Buddies("the biggest sitcom in eons") after his predecessor meets an unfortunate end via an unfaithful wife, a hot tub and a nail gun. Desperate for money and health insurance to cover his son's kidney dialysis treatment, J.T. accepts the assignment and flies to California. Upon his arrival, he clashes with Debbie, the "voluptuous" sexpot network liaison; Lance, the underqualified studio exec; and the married terrors Stephanie and Marcus Pooley, the show's creators. J.T.'s only ally on the lot is his friend Asher Black, who helps J.T. survive Marcus's lecherous casting sessions, puerile assistant directors, an on-set pederast and a cast of babied egoists. Benson's flat, one-dimensional characters are hard to take seriously, and readers may have a hard time sympathizing with the long-winded J.T., especially after he anoints himself "the Sergeant at Arms of the Moral Police." Benson's background in the TV biz is apparent, but his roman à clef doesn't pop. (Sept.)