Larry David bottled lightning—and he did it twice. He co-created Seinfeld (Netflix), a show that aired from 1989-98 and yet continues to colour our social lexicon, still giving words and phrases to modern-day foibles and issues. He went on to make Curb Your Enthusiasm (JioCinema) a show about a mean-spirited version of himself that, after 24 years, is finally ending. As Curb begins its last season this weekend, here is a letter from George Costanza—the Seinfeld character played by Jason Alexander, and based on David—to Larry David. (Who, after all, could write him more heartfelt fan-mail?)
Dear Larry,
Who would’ve thought I’d be writing a letter, right? It’s not like me, and I don’t have the best record with envelopes. But you, Larry, you’ve inspired me —in more ways than one. Everyone tells me that I, George Costanza, am like you, LD. So here goes nothing. Let me start with a simple truth—you are a genius. I mean, we’re talking genius on a cosmic level, not some run-of-the-mill supremacy. You and I, we’re kindred spirits, navigating the labyrinth of life with the finesse of a bull in a china shop.
Remember Seinfeld? Yeah, that masterpiece we crafted together. I know people mention Jerry Seinfeld a lot, but you know and I know that we were the ones truly bringing the “nothing” to the table. We made the mundane extraordinary, and our banter was gold, Larry, gold. And you didn’t stop there, oh ho ho. You went solo, and Curb Your Enthusiasm happened. Bravo, my friend.
In many ways, Curb actually is Seinfeld, ensconced in velvet—the velvet that is me. You, playing yourself, stumbling through a world of inane social norms like a blindfolded bullfighter. Your big epiphany here was the realisation that our increasingly unbearable world was made up of Georges, not Jerrys. My complaints, my peeves, my impatience, my intolerance. It’s a Costanza world out there and, Larry, you magnificent son of a gun, you get me.
The beauty of Curb is in its chaos. No scripts, just you, the discomfort, and the sweet, sweet taste of improvisation. You make awkwardness an art form, my man. Every social encounter, every faux pas, it’s a symphony of squirming, and I’m sitting here, eating my cheese and nodding in approval.
Now let’s talk about the mockumentary style. Blurring the lines between fiction and reality, real celebrities playing exaggerated versions of themselves? That’s next-level stuff. It’s like you took the Costanza way of stretching the truth and turned it into a comedic masterpiece. You remember our mantra—“It’s not a lie if you believe it”—and now you’ve made that the whole point. Everyone has their own truth that makes sense to them—and perhaps only to them—while everyone else’s truth feels stupid and arbitrary. That’s the Curb philosophy, isn’t it?
The Soup Nazi (season 7, episode 6) for instance, was an incredible episode of Seinfeld. The way you blended the absurdity of a new and all-powerful food trend, New York’s trademark restaurant rudeness, and the rigid rules of a dictator—it felt like a Costanza brainstorm gone wild. Much later, I watched you build on this brilliance in Curb with the Palestinian Chicken (season 8, episode 3), where you turned a simple restaurant choice into a geopolitical battleground—now there’s the Larry David touch. Who would’ve thought chicken could be so politically charged?
Then there’s Festivus (from The Strike, season 9, episode 10 of Seinfeld) which was a Costanza family tradition that found its way into pop culture history. The airing of grievances, the feats of strength… my dad’s nutty ideas became an anti-capitalist cultural phenomenon. And you took this to the next level in Curb, baby. The Beloved Aunt(season 1, episode 8), where you accidentally topple a shrine—that’s pure Festivus chaos. It’s like you took the Costanza family dysfunction and magnified it for the world to see.
People may not realise this but in Curb, you’re actually playing a superhero. You’re my hero. Life’s awkward moments, the societal norms we trip over— you take ‘em, twist ‘em, and make ‘em dance to your tune. It’s a Costanza-esque rebellion against the ordinary. It’s liberating, Larry. You’ve given awkwardness a voice, a stage, and it’s singing like a canary.
Take The Spite Store (Curb, season 10, episode 10), where you opened a coffee shop just to put down a rude coffee seller. You took a page from the Costanza playbook of revenge and cranked it up a notch. Turning a feud into a full-fledged business rivalry, that’s pettiness I can admire. You’re not just embracing the uncomfortable; you’re turning it into a lucrative venture.
And how can we forget The Watermelon (Curb, season 11, episode 4) ? Larry, you made a seemingly innocent purchasing of fruit spiral into a cultural controversy. It’s a Costanza moment on steroids—taking a harmless act and turning it into a societal debate. The audacity to make a fuss over watermelon etiquette—that’s Larry David at his peak, turning the trivial into a comedic opus.
So, Larry, I raise my glass of Pepsi to you. You’ve created a comedic milestone that speaks to the inner Costanza in all of us. You’re not just pushing boundaries; you’re tearing them down and celebrating the chaos that comes from saying what people shouldn’t say. People should fall to their knees and thank god (and HBO) that they know you and have access to your dementia.
Admiringly yours,
Your handsomer alter-ego,
George Costanza
What if the world sang one song? The Greatest Night In Pop (Netflix) celebrates the making of We Are The World, a single that raised more than $60 million for Ethiopia, featuring such heavyweights as Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Ray Charles, Bob Dylan and Sting. A delightful documentary.
Raja Sen is a screenwriter and critic. He has co-written Chup, a film about killing critics, and is now creating an absurd comedy series. He posts @rajasen.
