‘My wife always told me, “You’re going to be on that show one day”’

J.B. Smoove is the breakout star of Curb Your Enthusiasm. That might be hard to forget since he first appeared on the show in its sixth season back in 2007. But it’s not like he hadn’t been busting his ass in the comedy world for over a decade before Larry David had invited him to audition for the show that Smoove was already a fan of. Some people might have recognized him from Def Comedy Jam, while others may not have realized he was a writer during the Tina Fey–Amy Poehler–Maya Rudolph early aughts era of Saturday Night Live. There’s even a handful of folks (ahem) who maybe saw him a little earlier as Trucky in the cult 2001 comedy hit Pootie Tang. He’d been around for years, but when he debuted as Leon Black, moved into Larry’s house, and never left, Smoove finally earned the wider audience he deserved.

The way Smoove sees it, everything before he walked into the audition as Leon was a work in progress, and everything he’s done since has built on that as the show nears its end after 12 seasons over the last 24 years. He’d done improv, stand-up, and anybody in the writers’ room with him at SNL will tell you that, whether they got on the show or not, nobody pitched ideas like Smoove. He already had talent and the confidence to go with it, but there’s something he brought to the table that isn’t taught at Harvard or the Second City where many of his colleagues got their comedy starts: He knows how to sell. Literally — he’s got a Jordan Belfort “sell me this pen” instinct, except Smoove isn’t trying to bilk you out of your fortune; he’s working to crack you up.

And he’s done a lot of that over his career. David is famous for breaking on set, and it’s been said that nobody makes the Curb creator laugh as much as Smoove. The comedian has been as good for the show as being part of David’s world has been for him. These days, he’s always working on something, and like some of his co-stars who also were known for stand-up before the show, he’ll likely end up onstage telling jokes again sooner or later. Still, as Smoove — who’s wearing a western-style hat that makes it look like he’s about to teach the cast of Yellowstone about style — points out over Zoom, even though David said season 12 is the end of Curb, you also never know with Larry David.

I think you might be the best hat guy in the game right now.
Hat means business right here. [Tilts his hat to the side.] Sometimes I throw a little tilt on like that. It’s weird when you walk in a room like this, but people get it.

Do you do the tilt a lot?
Depends on how extremely tilted I feel. This is a little straight hat. Sometimes I just do throw a little something like that on him. I respect that kind of tilt right there. I walk in a room, everybody spills their drink. You know what I mean? That’s how tilted I am.

Not to change the subject so drastically, but I wanted to offer my condolences. I’m sure losing Richard Lewis was hard for you like everybody involved in Curb.
What a great guy, man. Genuinely. I used to listen to him on Howard Stern when I was in New York. I used to work in this perfume company — small little company, so I had to multitask. Sometimes I’d fill bottles, sometimes I would box ‘em, put the caps on ‘em. Very few people get a chance to have an after-school job where they’re a perfumer. I would have a little AM radio next to my table, and I would have a real low with Howard Stern on there, man, and he would always have Richard on there once in a while. What a legend, man.

So it was a big deal getting to work with him?
I find myself in these places where I end up thinking about somebody or idolizing somebody and end up meeting them and actually connecting with them. So when I got on Curb, it’s crazy how I idolized all these amazing people and ended up on this show.

After season six was over, he called me — he called me — and we talked. It’s crazy. He said, “You are a fucking rock star. You’re like Jimi Hendrix; no one can touch you. You’re playing this shit like a fucking guitar, man. I fucking love watching you.” And this is a legend saying this to me. I’m sitting there like, Man, you don’t got to say nothing nice to me — I’m just happy to be a part of this train that’s moving already. Because I came in season six. Before that, I was sitting at home on my couch, in my goddamn underwear, watching Curb like, This shit is the funniest shit I’ve ever seen.

And then all of a sudden, you’re part of the story.
It’s crazy how you don’t know where you’re going, what your path is. But my wife always told me, “You’re going to be on that show one day.” And when you get on something like that, and you see how real these people are … You’re talking about existing friends who have relationships already. A lot of these guys go way back. So to end up on something like that, just by circumstance, and then you’re friends with these people? [Smoove shakes his head in disbelief for a solid 15 seconds.]

Richard Lewis could call you and talk. He could talk his ass off. You needed an intermission talking to his ass, man. Amazing man, but damn, got me a fucking hostage and shit. But the shit he was saying was fucking brilliant. The jokes and him being honest about how he felt about you — it’s mixed in there. So good that you were fucking captivated by his delivery and how he writes.

Did you guys get to hang out a lot off-set?
He used to write all the time at the Chateau Marmont. One time I walked in there, and I stopped where the dining room is at, and I look out and I see Richard Lewis sitting way over there. He’s sitting in the corner by himself with his little book out. I just start staring at him, and he looks up and starts staring at me. We’re staring at each other for ten minutes. Then people started to notice that we were staring at each other from afar, and everybody starts to look at us and start all fucking laughing. Then he gets up real slow, and we just started walking towards the middle of the room, and people are like, Oh my God, what’s happening here? We just walk real slow to the middle of the restaurant and stood — [Smoove puts his hands together to show they were inches away] — there, and then stared at each other. Then we got into a full mini argument about taking our wives to dinner, and it goes into a full-blown argument about who’s supposed to call who. And people are loving it, man. They’re at a live version of Curb right there.

That’s the beauty of the show — it’s always blurring the lines between what you guys are really like and what’s a character. Seeing it in person must have been a trip.
His commitment, wearing all the black and the fucking hair slicked back. He was like fucking Dracula, man — a nice Dracula. That motherfucker could bite you and shit and take your blood, but he likes you, so he said, “You know what? I’m really sorry about this. I can get blood out of places. I don’t need your blood.” You know what I mean? A prince of darkness, that motherfucker, man. Just an amazing man.

He added a lot to the show just like Bob Einstein added a lot, both from the early days. But you came on in the middle of the show, and I know it wasn’t originally an idea to keep you on. Since you went from a smaller role to part of the main cast, how would you say you’ve evolved Leon?
Larry did an interview, and he said everybody plays an over-exaggerated version of themselves, but Leon and J.B. are two different people. I don’t talk like Leon does or do what Leon does. I’m improvising within a character as opposed to improvising myself. It’s a weird turn — I can’t say what J.B. would say, but I can say what Leon would say; I’ve got to improvise what he’d say in this scene based on who he is. So his evolution into who he is is more that I try to be consistent with his lifestyle, with how he thinks, and the good and bad advice I give Larry.

One of the most brilliant things about the cast is how you’ve all been able to keep being hilarious in the same setup for so long. I know you haven’t been on as long as, say, Jeff Garlin or Susie Essman, but how do you approach showing up every year and keep people waiting to see what Leon is going to do or say next?
I sit there wondering, How does Leon keep coming up with this shit? He has this endless gift of gab and thinks of the craziest shit to say that ends up being almost a little bit metaphoric in a way. But I almost got to not think about what I’m saying.

It’s a Zen thing.
Yeah. If I think about it, then I think I overthink it. So I’m going to tell you that for maybe four or five seasons, I wouldn’t even look at the damn outline.

Wow.
I felt like I wouldn’t be in the moment. I would get to the set and ask [executive producer] Jeff Schaffer or one of the writers, “Okay, what’s going on here?” I want it to feel natural as opposed to me thinking about it days before. I’d rather just be in the moment and say exactly on what’s on Leon’s mind, as opposed to me overthinking it through the week.

What’s it been like knowing this is the last season?
This might be the first season I’ve ever watched the episodes, unless it was something where I needed to clean up a line or add something for reshoots. Other than that, I didn’t even know all the guests, because I wanted to watch this show as a fan.

So you didn’t know you’d be sparring with Ike Barinholtz as a restaurant owner named Shimon over buffet etiquette this season?
I didn’t know I was going to be doing that. But that’s my dude right there. We did History of the World, Part II together. Let me tell you: Ike is so goddamn funny. There is much shit from that buffet scene that didn’t even make the cut. It’s crazy. That shit doesn’t make the cut because Larry is literally putting a puzzle together, and some shit just don’t make it.

The Leon bits this year have been pretty spectacular.
The piss car? Only Leon would think of a car that runs on piss. You’re drinking water, you’re drinking coffee and orange juices and all kinds of Mountain Dews: Recycle that piss! It just goes down the drain to the ocean. Got to be someone that thinks of a car that runs on piss, man. Get your dick in the damn gas nozzle, and refill your car and drive.

It’s a game-changer.
It’s a great idea, but they won’t do it. It’ll fuck the economy up. You can’t just fucking make a piss car. You can’t do it. They’ll kill you. You’ll be assassinated.

They can barely make the electric car happen.
If you build a piss car, they’ll take your ass out. You and your piss.

You pissed away the economy.
You did that. You told everybody a car can run on piss. What have we found out today? A car could run on piss, and nobody told us. The whole world changes, man. Somehow it leaked that piss can run a car. You imagine that shit?

You wrote a book from Leon’s point of view with the subtitle “Philosophy of a Fool” back in 2017. Do you think he’s a philosophical guy?
He might be the most philosophical character on Earth. The things he thinks of really don’t make no goddamn sense, but it makes sense.

It’s galaxy brain.
No, I call it “stupid sense.” Even back on the piss thing, I think it was two seasons ago, Leon said, “I pissed in a Gatorade bottle plenty of times. You know how many times I pissed on a Gatorade bottle? Many times. You know how many times I pissed on a Gatorade bottle and I drunk that shit? One time.” You can’t do that shit twice. You can’t have that same mistake happen again. That’s the philosophy of a fool. I’m telling you man: People are going to look at that book one day, and that thing will be a bible of stupidness.

Since you’d already had so much experience in comedy before Curb, has being on the show changed how you approach your work?
I feel like this is a bad example because I’m a vegan, but you know how you go into a butcher shop, and you are buying some meat and behind the counter, they have that diagram of a cow on the wall and it shows all the cuts — the little dotted lines that show you every type of cut of beef? That’s what I feel like. I think I’m the sum of its parts. I’m the motherfucker that’s been through some shit, knows how to do some shit, but who’s not afraid to do shit.

First thing I ever did before I started doing stand-up was I took an improv class. I said, I’m going to see who the fuck I’m going to be onstage. And who am I? I’ve always been the life of the party. I’m the dude that makes people happy in high school. I’m the dude that makes you fucking laugh. But I’m also daring and fearless. So how do I take that and make that real? How do I take this shit and make it fit what I need to do? Then I realized I think about that cut of beef all the time, that fucking cow on that wall, and I look at all the shit I’ve done — all the Comedy Central shows, MTV shows, Everybody Hates Chris, Pootie Tang …

Pootie Tang is an all-time classic, by the way…
All-time great movie! “Sa da tay.”

But I would tell my friends to try to do a lot of different shit — don’t get stuck in one place. So I started doing everything — commercials, voiceovers, anything. I really became well-versed in a lot of different things. I’m a fucking salesman. I can sell any fucking thing, and I try to put energy behind everything.

Is that the approach you take with Leon? He does a good job selling Larry on some crazy ideas.
Think about every Leon scene. Have you ever seen that motherfucker laugh? Very few times. I can count on maybe one hand. If you take out the silliness of what he’s saying, he’s giving Larry real shit. Take the silly part out, and that’s a drama scene.

Has the improvisational nature of Curb helped you with interviewing people? I love the way you converse with guests on your MSG Network show Four Courses With J.B. Smoove. I might petition for you to become a late-night host.
Man, I would shake up late night. I love interviewing people. What happens when I’m doing that is things that I forgot come back to me. It makes me think of something that is relatable to what their story is. When I was interviewing Roy Wood Jr., we were talking about his family and their legacy in the civil-rights movement, and I said, “Man, for some reason if I turn this shit black and white, you look like you were from the civil-rights movement.” He has a very civil-rights movement look. Then I remembered someone sent me a picture one time of a man in a civil-rights march, and this motherfucker looked just like me. I told Roy we look like we could have been in the civil-rights movement; we have a look to us that seems like we would’ve been there. And I said, “Damn, think about that.”

There are 12 seasons of Curb, but it’s been on nearly 25 years. That’s like the age of four or five sitcoms combined, and it’s somehow remained fresh and relevant the whole time, so it’s been tough to think about legacy. What do you think the legacy of Curb Your Enthusiasm will be?
Larry, Jeff, Susie, Bob Einstein, goddamn Richard Lewis, fucking Cheryl Hines — it’s just a melting pot of amazing people. These people are real friends, and they have locked themselves into a culture that keeps moving. You know how hard it is to remain relevant with characters who are also aging? It’s some real shit to think about. I do think that this show has locked itself in as an iconic show, but the iconic show was not without having iconic people. I go back to watching the show, sitting there in awe and laughing my ass off. And I go from that to being on it, and I go from that to leaving it soon.

Season six, I had to jump on this goddamn moving train, mid-season, that I’m in love with and I want to do a good job on. I didn’t know what my character’s purpose was. It could have been a one-season arc for all I knew, but you get in there and you do a good job. You come around, you stay late, you give them what they need, you make them fucking laugh, and you’ll see what happens. No way in hell would I have thought that I was going to be there in season seven. But Curb ends like that sometimes. Larry died one season!

A lot of people are going to miss it, because it’s honesty through humor. You know how many times I’ve been on a plane, and I’m sitting there flying and the person in front of me is watching Curb, and they’ll be laughing? I just tap their shoulder, and I say “That motherfucker is funny.” They do a double take: “Oh shit!”

I’m not totally sold it’s over. I know from experience that older Jewish guys like to work as long as they can.
We get it Larry, you’re 76 years old. I fucking get it. But God, you can’t say you ain’t been even having fun. We’ll see. We’ll see.