National Lampoon's rise and fall | Jersey Retro

The movies, such as "National Lampoon's Animal House" and "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation," will survive.

But when future generations ask: "What was National Lampoon?" the answer will be complicated. For one thing, it was a magazine, spurring future generations' next question: "What were magazines?"

So Douglas Tirola's documentary "Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead" -- about the rise and fall of a comedy institution -- comes along just in time, before more players in the saga (not to mention, more people who remember the magazine) are lost.
"Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead" is out on Blu-ray ($29.98) and DVD ($26.98) from Magnolia Home Entertainment.

National Lampoon exists in our collective memory as a brand. The movies, and the fact that "Saturday Night Live" was initially populated with Lampoon alums, is what the mainstream remembers most about it.

But the humor magazine itself -- smartly written and visually inviting, albeit sex- and drug-obsessed and, in hindsight, politically incorrect to an amazing degree -- was, in its day, powerful and pervasive.

And the story behind National Lampoon is rich with wonky characters and drama -- office politics and affairs, drug abuse, tragic casualties. Tirola lays out the sordid story with the testimony of talking heads who are surprisingly frank: Lampoon alums such as Henry Beard, Tony Hendra, P.J. O'Rourke and Brian McConnachie; actors such as Chevy Chase, Tim Matheson and Kevin Bacon; directors John Landis, Ivan Reitman and Judd Apatow; and various observers.

It all started with the Harvard Lampoon (founded in 1876), which former Lampoon editor Sean Kelly calls "one of those famous things that nobody has ever seen a copy of."

Three 1960s Harvard alums -- Douglas Kenney, Beard and Robert Hoffman -- decided to start a national version of the college magazine. They made a deal with a New York-based publisher named Matty Simmons, another of Tirola's interviewees.

The magazine became a reality. As writer Michael O'Donoghue -- called a "ticking time bomb" and "the world's angriest man" by certain talking heads -- joined the staff, Lampoon began to take shape. Contributor Ellis Weiner summed it up: "Doug did the dirty stuff, Henry did the brainy stuff, and O'Donoghue did the outrageous stuff."

Speaking of outrageous, Lampoon's best-known cover, published in 1972, is a masterstroke of suggestion that, 44 years hence, still can't be reproduced in a family newspaper; the backlash wouldn't be worth it. It shows an adorable dog with a gun to its head, and the inscription: "If You Don't Buy This Magazine, We'll Kill This Dog."

Much of the documentary is devoted to Kenney, who was by all accounts funny, inventive, unpredictable ... and fatally attracted to drugs. When Kenney "disappeared" from the Lampoon office one day -- no explanation, no clues, he was just gone -- Beard took over the reins of the magazine. Kenney contritely returned later with an incoherent, unfinished novel he soon tossed.

Meanwhile, extracurricular activities piled up. There were books and albums. A live show, "Lemmings," had a respectable off-Broadway run and attracted Second City comics from Chicago, including future "Saturday Night Live" stars Chase, Gilda Radner and John Belushi. "The National Lampoon Radio Hour" aired on 600 stations.

With so much going, Simmons didn't bite when NBC invited him to work on its planned Saturday night comedy show. This, of course, became "Saturday Night Live."

The documentary surprises in bringing to light a backstage business deal over which there appears to be lingering bitterness.

When Simmons first signed a contract with Kenney, Beard and Hoffman, he made what seemed a safe gamble involving a down-the-road buyout. (I'll spare you the complicated details.) The upshot is that Simmons eventually had to pay, in his estimation, $7.5 million to the three younger men.

Some interviewees claimed that Beard intimated the money would be spread around to the staff. Another said the moment Beard cashed his check, he announced, "I've hated every minute of this," and walked out.
Beard's comment on the matter: "I think the culture changed and, you know, people grew up. It had a lifespan."

Kenney, too, would likely have quit. To entice him to stay, Simmons told him that National Lampoon was making a movie. (Having said it, Simmons jokes, now they had to do it.) This became "National Lampoon's Animal House," a hit which spawned many imitators, for better or worse. There would be no "Porky's" without "Animal House."

Kenney, who co-wrote and acted in "Animal House," relocated to Los Angeles. With the cache of a hit movie, plus his buyout fortune, Kenney became a walking party. But he was distraught when his follow-up film, "Caddyshack" (which starred Chase), wasn't as well-received as "Animal House."

In 1980, Kenney apparently slipped off of a precipice in Kauai and fell to his death. He was 33. The consensus among interviewees is that it wasn't suicide. Chase calls Kenney his best friend, and gets choked up on camera.

Following the exodus of talent to TV and movies, the magazine floundered.

The documentary chooses an infamous blunder on Lampoon's part -- a "baby in a blender" gag -- as its end point. But it might have been edifying to take the story to the bitter end. (The magazine changed hands, and ceased publication in the late '90s.) The once great National Lampoon died with a whimper, but that death isn't presented here.

Still, "Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead" does a fine job of telling the story of a print media phenomenon that profoundly affected comedy in all other mediums. This will never happen again.