This time of year always takes me back to my childhood in the late 1970s. Variety television was everywhere—some of it famously terrible. But only one man could have written this much pop-culture chaos and made it unforgettable: Bruce Vilanch. Actor, comedian, and comedy writer extraordinaire, Vilanch’s career soared in the 1990s and early 2000s, but it’s the so-called “bad years” of cheesy TV and movies that cemented his cult status.
And now, after decades of whispers, he’s finally put it all in a book.
“It is what it is,” Vilanch says. “All I wrote about is the flops—the legendary things everyone thought we’d buried. But thanks to the Internet, they came back. And I realized it was time to deal with it in a book. A sort of memoir, but really a memoir about the flops I’m known for.”
The Paul Lynde Halloween Special
Bruce Vilanch fondly recalls working on the infamous 1976 Paul Lynde Halloween Special, a variety special that has become a cult classic for its sheer absurdity and charm. “Paul was usually Captain Negative,” Vilanch explains, “but for this special, he broke character. He opened with a monologue and closed with a heartfelt coda, genuinely enjoying Halloween for the first time.” The show blended musical numbers, comedy sketches, and celebrity cameos, including Margaret Hamilton and Billy Hayes, all staged around a surreal, playful Halloween theme. Vilanch, who helped write and produce the special, describes it as a perfect example of 1970s television daring to be over-the-top, offbeat, and surprisingly heartfelt—a combination that makes it endure decades later as a “so bad it’s good” classic.
The Star Wars Holiday Special Lives On
Vilanch recalls the 1978 Star Wars Holiday Special with infectious enthusiasm:
“I was so excited when it ended up on YouTube. Everyone was thrilled—except George Lucas, who tried to destroy it. But once it’s on the Internet, it’s there forever. Every time a new Star Wars movie comes out, that special resurfaces. It refuses to die.”
For Vilanch, the oddball spectacle wasn’t just a footnote in history—it was a playground for creativity. “Chewbacca had to be translated by guest stars to keep the plot moving. It was ridiculous—but glorious,” he laughs.
The Brady Bunch Gets Cheesy
Vilanch fondly remembers 1976-77’s The Brady Bunch Variety Hour:
“Robert Reed was trepidatious at first. Not a singer, not a dancer, unlike the youngest kids. But after a few episodes, he leaned into it and had a blast.”
The show mixed synchronized swimming, Broadway numbers, and outrageous guest appearances. “Every guy on the lot was glued to the portholes,” Vilanch recalls. “The tank for underwater shots? Every guest star wanted in.”
He also touches on cultural norms of the ’70s:
“In the ’70s, gay characters were often sinister or tragic. There were no fun-loving, out gay characters. So Ann B. Davis and Rip Taylor’s personalities never raised eyebrows—people just enjoyed them.”

Hollywood Behind the Scenes
Vilanch’s book goes deep into the chaos of classic Hollywood: writing Can’t Stop the Music while briefly sent to a “fat farm” with co-writer Bronte, navigating Lucas’ vision, and collaborating with iconic performers like Paul Williams, Bette Midler, Florence Henderson, and the Osmonds.
“With the Osmonds, it was about learning each other’s rituals. My tribe had rituals, their tribe had rituals. Once they got it, they were fine,” he explains.
And then there’s his flair for spectacle: donning a disco ball costume for an AIDS benefit, choreographing water ballets for the Bradys, and staging absurd variety numbers that are unforgettable decades later.
“I was a human disco ball. I blessed people in the most playful way imaginable,” he says with a grin.
Flops, Fame, and the Internet
Vilanch knows the power of “so bad it’s good.” Cheesy TV shows, offbeat specials, and flops have longevity thanks to the Internet and streaming. “Shows I thought were lost to history,” he notes, “are now being discovered by younger generations on YouTube. It’s like they refuse to die. That’s why the book exists.”
Despite decades of chaos, flops, and cultural shifts, Vilanch keeps perspective:
“The good stuff is there too. Maybe I’ll write a book about that one day. Or maybe a book about who I slept with. Who knows?”
For now, Vilanch’s memoir gives audiences a chance to revisit a time when television dared to be outrageous, ridiculous, and unforgettable. Sometimes the bad ideas are the ones we remember most fondly.
It Seemed Like a Bad Idea at the Time is out now, available on Amazon and Audible.

