I’ve written a lot about L.A., and I always describe it as beautiful. To me, human relationships can be sad, can be exhilarating – but it’s not a product of the city. And it takes different forms. Like, in New York, you’re always with people. You can’t go outdoors, you can’t go into the subway, you can’t go anywhere without running into people you don’t know. But in L.A., you really have to work a bit to be exposed. You have to be standing in a shop, you have to join a club, or join a community service thing, or go to a nightclub in order to meet people. Because there’s not the same transitory proximity to other people.

In Bowfinger (1999), there’s a scene where Eddie Murphy has to run across a freeway. The studio people all said, “We’ve got to cut this. It’s too expensive”. I said, “You can’t cut the funniest scene in the movie! We’re making a comedy – if you cut the funniest scene what are we making?” And it did turn out to be the funniest scene.

I always felt there was a deeper meaning to what I was doing than just being wild and crazy, something more philosophical. I had a view that there was something funny about trying to be funny. I needed a theory behind it in order to justify it at the time, but now I don’t. I see it for what it was. It was just fun, and it was stupid, and that’s why it was so successful.

When I first started, I really decided to be a comedian, so I underplayed the banjo. I didn’t want it to be a music show, I wanted it to be a comedy show. I subordinated the banjo and the music because I didn’t have anybody to play with. It was just me. And music always sounds better when you’ve got some other people.