BOOK REVIEW: Entrances and Exits by Michael Richards

This article was originally published in The Big Issue in June 2024.

Entrances and Exits, Michael Richards, out now, Permuted Press, £22

Michael Richards will forever be associated with Kramer, the wildly eccentric ‘hipster doofus’ character he inhabited so exquisitely for nine years on Seinfeld, one of the greatest and most successful TV sitcoms of all time.

On a far less stellar note, he’ll also be remembered for a notorious incident at an L.A. comedy club in 2006, when he lost his temper and hurled racist abuse at some hecklers.

In his often fascinating, often frustrating memoir, Richards attempts to present an honest account of himself. To a certain extent he succeeds.

At best, he comes across as a sensitive, cultured, offbeat soul with an acute understanding of the cosmic art of comedy. Enter: Kramer. Working on Seinfeld was clearly one of the happiest times of his life, a time when he could give full vent to his prodigious comic genius. 

Like all great clowns, Richards takes his work seriously, and the chapters devoted to his meticulous Method-influenced approach to playing Kramer leap off the page with a kind of joyous intensity worthy of the K-Man himself.

Unfortunately, the good stuff – basically everything pertaining to his comedy career - is surrounded by page after page of Richards’ long-winded spiritual/philosophical musings, an interminable section on his army service (where he goes out of his way to prove his non-racist credentials), and various other inessential diversions.

The book also flounders when he addresses his public meltdown. It’s awkwardly foreshadowed throughout, with Richards repeatedly describing himself as an improvisational performer driven by irrational impulses, a “Dionysian” clown. He also admits to a lifelong struggle with anger management.

One sympathises with his difficult family background, a complex subject he writes about movingly. It helps to explain his insecurity and anxiety. However, while he’s genuinely appalled by what he said that night, he never addresses why he went there. Why did he resort to racist abuse? That’s not just an irrational impulse, it came from somewhere.

The hecklers told Richards he wasn’t funny, which is probably the worst thing you can say to someone who’s based most of their self-worth on making people laugh. So he lashed out with the worst things he could say to a person of colour. He knows that was wrong, but that’s all he’s really prepared to say. Maybe it’s all he can say.

Richards, to his credit, doesn’t ask for forgiveness and never wallows in self-pity. I hope he finds peace within himself one day. This uneven book suggests he’s still got some way to go.