‘Deal’ Deck Stacked With Raunchiness
It would be true, if not accurate, to say that the inspiration for “The Real Deal,” premiering tonight at 11:30 on cable TV’s Comedy Central, emerged from a brainstorming session of the Yocks Network’s “creative types.”
More accurately, however, “The Real Deal” emerged from the hilarious, drunken pre-Christmas luncheon of three Comedy Central vice presidents who are dedicated, funny guys constantly trying to find newer, better and cheaper ways to get you tuned in. Their show is a “skins” poker game played by five top-shelf comedians - Kevin Pollak, Robert Wuhl, John Mendoza, Allan Havey and John Caponera - who gamble their way toward a $20,000 payoff.
Airing in three half-hours over three consecutive nights, “The Real Deal” is quite accurately billed as “a truckload of dirty jokes, graphic conversations and four-letter words.” For basic cable, it’s cutting edge.
But from whence sprang this 90-minute joke-a-thon?
It was a bleak Friday in December when Marc Chusid, VP of on-air promotion, pulled out Tony Fox, publicity VP, and Vinnie Favale, VP of program development, for some executive relaxation.
“I said, ‘Come on, we’re going to get drunk,”’ Chusid acknowledged.
The three young executives adjourned to a convenient bistro.
“We were sitting around telling jokes, dirty stories, really personal stories, and of course, the more we drank, the funnier everything got,” said Fox.
“We were crying we were laughing so hard,” Chusid said. “And we were saying, ‘We need to get stuff like this on the air. How do we get this on the air?”’
Fox and Chusid turned to Favale.
“You could see the light bulb go off inside his head,” Fox said. “Of course, after three martinis, it’s a miracle anything could go off - and he said, ‘A poker game!”’
Inspired, they decided to present their brainchild to the network’s then-president and chief executive officer, Bob Kreek.
“We literally staggered back to the office and walked into Kreek’s office,” Fox said. “He liked the concept immediately.”
The fledgling executive producers began figuring the logistics of the game and settled on Caesars Tahoe in Lake Tahoe, Nev., as the venue.
The network chartered a Lear jet to fly the comedians there.
With minimal instruction, the new executive producers set the comics to their poker table, assisted ably by the statuesque, toga’d Susan Ashley, who served cocktails and got off a few jokes of her own.
“We didn’t tell these guys to show up with 50 of their best jokes. This was not scripted. They were totally on their own,” Favale said.
“What you see is these guys being themselves. That’s who they are.”
Each half-hour is preceded by a disclaimer Fox wrote that advises viewers of the program’s raw, raunchy content and urges people who like to write letters of complaint “to sharpen their pencils.”