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Finally in 1985, he was invited to be a regular on SNL. It was the turning point of his career. His Fernando character set a new indoor speed record for trajectory from late-night sketch to universally understood wisecrack. Today people still beg him to flash the insincere smile of the fading, macho heartthrob of the '50s and intone, "You know, dahlings, it is better to look good than to feel good." By Monday morning, from junior high cafeterias to white-shoe law firms, "Excuuuse me" had been replaced by "You look maaahvelous." He also struck gold with Willie, the nerdy messenger with a knack for misfortune, who wails in a high voice, "I hate when that happens," and with Ricky, the hapless Vietnam vet who never escapes the neighborhood, for whom everything is "unbelieeevable."
"That season," Crystal says, "lifted an anvil off my heart. It made other things possible." Like working his way up the emcee ladder from the Grammys to the Oscars. The Oscars were thrilling for the kid who once sat glued to the black-and-white set with the family, shrieking, "There's Loretta Young! Look, over there, Alan Ladd's getting out of that limo!" His mother Helen remembers Billy grasping his toothbrush like a mike, "thanking all the little people who made this possible." In the morning, she would put notes under the cereal bowl -- "Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird" -- for the Oscars awarded after he fell asleep.
It is Crystal's ability to think funny that makes him the perfect Oscar host. After Jack Palance was named Best Supporting Actor for City Slickers and broke into a he-man display of one-handed push-ups, Crystal kept a tally through the evening of Palance's imaginary aerobic progress ("Jack has just bungee-jumped off the HOLLYWOOD sign"). Following a huge production number from the movie Hook with dozens of children suspended from the ceiling, Crystal remarked, "You know, Palance is the father of all those kids." Reacting to the biggest glitch -- when 1920s director Hal Roach, instead of just taking a bow, stood at his seat with no microphone and gave a long, inaudible speech for his Honorary Award for lifetime achievement -- Crystal gracefully joked, "The reason we couldn't hear Mr. Roach is that he is used to working in silent movies."
For a hugely successful comedian, Crystal is singularly without attitude -- not as angry as Richard Pryor, nor as frantic as Robin Williams, nor as - political as Jay Leno, not alienated or crude or macho. His humor bursts the bubble of ego without destroying anyone's dignity. He doesn't seem to have an enemy in the business, which partly accounts for the success of Comic Relief, his annual TV show with Whoopi Goldberg and Williams, which raises millions of dollars for the homeless.