Newsweek
Marc Shaiman on Bette Midler, Rob Reiner and His New Memoir
By H. Alan Scott
Feb 4, 2026
“Why am I so miserable? I’ve had so many wonderful things happen in my life.”
In his memoir, Never Mind the Happy, composer Marc Shaiman joked he “almost called the book, ‘Google Me.’” That’s because you know his music even if you don’t know his name. He’s the man behind the sound of films like Sister Act, The American President and Mary Poppins Returns. “When I get cast on shows now, the cast are young enough that they have no idea about my movie career. Every now and then they go, ‘Wait, you worked on what!?’ And I’m like, ‘Google me.’” His career spans legendary collaborations with “the mensch of all time” Billy Crystal and his “template for how to put the emotion of a song first” Bette Midler. “I love her style of performing. It matches my songwriting, my arranging, the way [I sing]…if I could sing.” Despite Shaiman’s seven Academy Award nominations, he admits, “that ship has sailed.” “There are a lot of much more legendary people than I who never won an Oscar. I’m gonna be fine.” But he’ll always have Hairspray. “If you don’t like Hairspray, sorry, I just kind of feel bad for you.”
Editor’s Note: This conversation has been edited and condensed for publication.
So, first off, I have to say I’ve been a big admirer of yours for years. What I think is so fascinating about you is—I mean, a lot of people know your name, of course, but…
No, they don’t.
They do! They know your work.
I almost called the book Google Me.
Well, you called the book Never Mind the Happy. Where did that title come from?
It defines me, my religion and the blood that’s in me. My sister called my mother one New Year’s Day and said, “Ma, I want to be the first to wish you a happy and healthy New Year!” and my mother said, “Never mind the happy.” That just stuck in my head forever. When I was writing the book, it sounded like a classic four-word title—like To Kill a Mockingbird or For Whom the Bell Tolls—where you aren’t quite sure what it means, but it defines me. It runs through the book, hopefully humorously: Why am I so miserable? I’ve had so many wonderful things happen, yet I’m always picking at the “but then this happened” part. But that’s every artist; you’re never as good as the next thing you’re working on. We almost went with You Can’t Stop the Beat, but that sounded like a magazine article about hairspray. My friend Christine Ebersole was once performing at Cafe Carlyle and a guy in the front row was on his phone the whole time. Finally, she said, “Google me.” I almost stole that from her, because when I’m cast on shows now, the actors are young enough that they have no idea about my movie career. Every now and then they go, “Wait, you worked on what?!” and I’m like, “Google me.”
I thought of you immediately when I heard the news about Rob Reiner. We pushed this interview back because of that tragic news. How are you feeling?
I had a breakdown this morning, so I’ll try not to have one right now. Like everybody else, I’m struggling. He was my brother, my father, my mentor. I did 20 movies with him. He gave me my career.
Your film career started because of him, correct?
Yeah. There are a few people, but he’s at the top. I was working with Bette Midler and Billy Crystal just as their movie careers were taking off. I co-wrote a song Bette nailed called “The Cow” for Big Business, and I would go on the road with Billy, playing underscore beneath his monologues. When Billy did When Harry Met Sally, he asked Rob what he was doing for the music. Rob said, “I need a guy who knows every song,” and Billy—the mensch of all time—said, “Have I got a guy for you!” Helping Rob choose songs and arrangements for that film taught me the mathematics of how music is physically placed into a movie. Later, Rob saw an HBO special I did with Billy that had four minutes of underscore. He called me the next morning and said, “My next movie is Misery. Do you want to score it?” I was terrified. Even my agent asked Rob, “Why do you think Marc can do this?”—which is not what your agent should be saying. But Rob said, “Richard, talent is talent.” He just had faith in me.
He meant so much to so many. It’s a blessing for humanity to have had his work, much of which you helped bring to life.
This last week has been made “easier” by the fact that he was so beloved across generations. Seeing everyone’s grief and the endless tributes online has been getting me through.
It’s a testament to his life.
And the fact that he was a literal part of making same-sex marriage law. Beyond my career, he’s a reason I am so happily married today. Until you’re married and have that ring on your finger, you don’t realize what it means. I’m an antsy person; I have to take it off at night to sleep. If I’m ever out in the world and realize I forgot to put it on, I feel beyond naked. I’m not me.
Your scores—particularly with Crystal and Midler—are iconic. How does it feel to have so many special moments attributed to you?
It feels good, if I ever allow myself to feel good, but it’s bizarre. Sometimes, if someone posts something online, I’ll comment, “You know, I did that,” and they’re shocked. Being part of that final Johnny Carson performance with Bette Midler and the score to The American President are two moments I can actually watch without beating myself up or wondering what I was trying to pull off.
Regarding The American President, so many portrayals of presidents since then sound just like your score. How do you feel about that?
I take it as the highest form of flattery. Don’t you miss main titles in movies? Where you could set a mood with an opening and take in a feeling? Now it’s just boom, you’re in. For that title, I needed to write music about the respect one used to have for the President of the United States. I’m happy with what I did, though I’m not comfortable saying that.
I’ll say it for you. Sister Act, City Slickers, Sleepless in Seattle, A Few Good Men…
For A Few Good Men, my parents came to L.A., and we happened to be there the day they filmed, “You’re damn right I ordered the code red!” and “You can’t handle the truth!” Jack Nicholson was unbelievable. Every take, even when the camera wasn’t on him, was the same. What a day.
How do you approach scoring and collaborating with different directors?
It’s always different, but always the same. You have to develop a vocabulary to understand what the director wants. To me, a movie is like a ballet that has already been staged, and you have to write the music to fit the movements. Then there’s the “temp score,” which is a double-edged sword. Directors and editors put existing music into a film while editing because a movie without music is just bad sex. They get very used to it. With Rob, he would often come over and start singing, “Can it go da da ah instead of da da da?” By the third movie, I told him, “Rob, if you’re going to keep singing, I have to send you to a voice teacher to expand your range.” Little by little, he stopped singing.
You have seven Academy Award nominations. Do you “need” the Oscar?
As I say in the book, that ship has sailed. You never know, but there are many legendary people who never won or were never even nominated. I’ve been nominated seven times; I’m going to be fine.
You’ve collaborated extensively with Bette Midler, who is everything to the LGBTQ+ community. Do you share that reverence?
Speaking of being gay—I tell the story in the book of the gayest day of my life. It’s the same thing with Barbra Streisand; these women were outsiders. They didn’t look like traditional beauties, and they didn’t talk the way “ladies” were expected to talk. They broke the mold and created a new form of beauty and sexiness.
I was a Bette Midler fanatic at 12. When I was 15, I had a daydream of running down a Broadway aisle and telling her, “Ms. Midler, I know every note of every arrangement, please let me play for you.” By sheer luck, when I moved to New York at 16, I stayed with people who lived across the hall from one of her backup singers. I became their musical director for free because I knew all the harmonies from the records. Eventually, Bette flew us to L.A. to rehearse. I was sitting in the back of the studio when in walks Bette Midler. Two years prior, she was a poster on my wall.
She wanted to try a song called “No Gesturing,” but the band didn’t have the music. She looked out and said, like Norma Desmond [in Sunset Boulevard], “You out there, can you play ‘No Gesturing’?” I actually got to walk onto the stage and say the exact words from my daydream. She said, “Stick around.” My flight was postponed, and because she’s a frugal gal, she put me in her guest room instead of a hotel. There I was, 17 years old, having breakfast with Bette Midler in a nightgown and no bra. Crazy things! I eventually brought her “The Wind Beneath My Wings” and did the Johnny Carson show. I’m so proud to be part of her legacy.
Hairspray is a defining Broadway musical. What was it like turning that quirky John Waters film into a stage hit?
It was a dream within a dream. I have South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut to thank for it. Before that, all I ever wanted was to write a Broadway musical, but my partner Scott and I never got the big break. We were in L.A. for a decade, and Scott was miserable; he says L.A. is where he learned how to drink and drive.
When the call came for Hairspray, we had to write on spec because they didn’t know us as lyricists. The next day, Scott said the show should start with Tracy Turnblad [the main character] looking out her window like Curly in Oklahoma!. Instead of seeing corn, she sees John Waters’ version of Baltimore—rats, flashers and bums—and it’s all beautiful to her. I ran to the piano and “Good Morning Baltimore” just plopped out. I was Tracy Turnblad with a penis in junior high. I didn’t understand why the world was the way it was, just like her. If you don’t like Hairspray, I just feel bad for you.
It is quite literally a perfect musical.
Lord knows we’ve seen many musicals try to write a “You Can’t Stop the Beat” for their finale. Even for Smash, they asked us for something like that. We can’t escape it.
When creating music, how much are you referencing the past?
I get a bad rap for being too “pastiche.” But I love the music that came before; it’s part of me. With Hairspray, I was only two years old in 1962, but I remember hearing “Chapel of Love” on the radio. We wanted to emulate that music without ripping it off—to make it sound like it could have all been on a jukebox in the sixties.
The book is fantastic. You aren’t retiring, are you?
Can I? Please, let me rest on my big fat laurels!
What are you excited about now?
I’m excited about the book. It’s a bizarre thing to write about yourself. How dare I think I could write about my life? But it has a universal theme. I’m in a profession that gets written about, but it’s just a job. People have the same frustrations I have. The book is about me trying to figure out how to retain the happy parts. I helped create something as joyful as Hairspray, yet there’s a great irony in the fact that I can’t always hang on to that joy myself. It’s about the struggle we all have just to get up and go to work.
But you get to go to work and hang out with Bette Midler.
You should have a drinking game for every time you mention Bette Midler. You’d be messed up by the end of this.
She is all over the book.
I dedicated it to her!
