Watching “Extras” will make you a better person.
Well, maybe not, but if you took the time to watch Ricky Gervais’ comedic opus from start to it’s concluding Special – you will have seen one of the greatest comedies on television. True story.
This made me wonder about the state of Canadian comedy, and in particular, where we define ourselves. I think we lie somewhere in between the two major players in the comedy world – the U.S. and the U.K.
The differences between American and British comedy are pretty obvious. Our cousins to the south have a long standing tradition of appropriating concepts from BBC shows and “Americanising” them, or as I call it “Watering the ideas down to make them more palatable”.
I’m not trying to be harsh on American comedy, but it distresses me when they repeatedly ruin good quality BBC comedies, by importing the ideas – and removing the heart and intent.
Ok – that was a little harsh. So a more concise view, I asked local comic and fellow media consumer, Roslyn Woodcock, to describe the differences between these two comedy powerhouses.
“Generally speaking”, says Woodcock, “American comedy spends a lot of time dealing with external reactions to physical attributes or scenarios – for example, “Arrested Development”'s Blue Man scenes, the Stair Car or Job's magic acts; while British comedy spends it’s time dealing with the internal (mental) reactions to the external: “Peep Show”'s ongoing inner monologues or “Coupling”'s in depth descriptions of what characters are thinking during absurd situations.”
Woodcock sums it up nicely.
“The British seem more willing to delve deeply into human fraility. They dig weakness while Americans dig the absurdity that comes from ignoring weakness.
So do we fit in there?
“Canadians, do a bit of both”, says Woodcock, “but there are just too few of us to really say we have created our own niche.”
Our style does seem to meet in that middle, as our most popular comedies deal directly with how self-aware we are as a people. I would posit that if we had a resting comedic state, I would say that it lies directly with our identity – and the exploration thereof. We take all of the external and internal – then filter it through our ideas of being Canadian.
We’re pretty paranoid about being compared to Americans, which pushes our identity into ridiculous avenues.
Needless to say, Canadians are pretty darn good at laughing at themselves, and we can certainly take it further than the States, but we’re not willing to go quite as far as the UK.
Of course we’ve had some fantastic moments in television that transcended common notions of comedy – or pretty much threw conventions out the window. SCTV and Kids in the Hall are two of the most influencial sketch comedy shows out there.
There is a hint of the key to our comedic strength in those two shows.
While the world sits around and debates whose comedies are better, there we are in the middle of it all – being ignored. And this is a good thing.
If our Canadian identity is our strength, than our subtlety is our stamina.
We don’t take ourselves too seriously. In fact, we’re the best at taking ourselves down a peg when needed. And who better to satirize Canadians than themselves?
So we are one of the best comedic states a savvy writer could ask for. It’s this self-awareness that will eventually bring us the next great Canadian TV comedy.
In the meantime – you really need to watch “Extras”.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Sketch: The Complaint Desk sequel
I have a bizarre need to write sequels -
The Complaint Desk 2
(Man is sitting on a chair – miming watching TV. Another man, an obvious door-to-door salesman waltzes in and mimes knocking on the door.)
Salesman: (to no one in particular) Well now – we have a little quandary here. Without a door – am I still a Salesman? You bet I am!
(He walks through the imaginary wall – and silently walks behind man.)
Salesman: Say kiddo – whacha doin’?
(Man jumps up with a start)
Man: What the Hell! Who are you? Get out my house before I call the cops!
Salesman: Now, now chum – let’s slide the mercury down the gauge eh – you’re getting more excited than Lana Turner’ gynecologist.
Man: What?
Salesman: Don’t get out much do you? I can see that. Nice place you have here.
Man: Who the hell are you?
Salesman: Who I am is a philosophical question I don’t need to ask – I’ve gazed into my abyss and the only thing that looked back was yesterday’s pastrami on rye –
(He belts his stomach and burps.)
Salesman: Why I went to a German deli I’ll never know – Between you and me the 13 tribes got outta the desert for two reasons – so we could have packed houses on Broadway and so I could get a lunch to remember.
(Man looks at him stunned)
Salesman: You look more stunned than a retired Chinese railway worker – Let me slow things down. You happy Roger – Can I call you Rog?
Roger: No.
Salesman: Fantastic Rog! I can tell you are someone who may not be happy with their lot in life – am I right Rog?
Roger: Uh –
Salesman: Uh – indeed Rog. Did I say you had a nice placet here? Solid. Some very solid walls – especially this one. (He points to the audience) You like this wall Rog? The fourth wall?
Roger: What?
Salesman: Rog, Rog, Rogerino – Don’t be coy with me kiddo. You look about as down as Uri Geller at a spoon straightening tournament. And I think I know why.
Roger: Why?
Salesman: You think this grand universe of yours dealt you a lousy hand – don’tcha?
Roger: Well.
Salesman: C’mon Rog, let’s be honest – when I walked in, you were sitting in a bare stage pretending to watch an invisible TV – how sad is that? And between you and me, I’m no Marcel Marceau – but I couldn’t tell if you were watching TV or lazily trying to tweak that person’s nipple (point to person in audience)
Roger: Well it sucks.
Salesman: I know you think that. You think, I have no good lines, I’m barely fleshed out – and I have no interesting character traits. Right.
Roger: Yeah.
Salesman: Why look at me! I have a loud suit – an outrageous accent and I repeatedly drop anachronistic nonsensical similes. That’s about as colourful as Doug Henning’s wardrobe.
Roger: Exactly.
Salesman: That’s what you might think Rog. I saw you in the other sketch my friend, "The Complaint Desk", and I’m mightily impressed.
Roger: What are you talking about? I don’t do anything! Get out of my house!
Salesman: Ah my bellicose buddy – strolling out of this scene you call home wouldn’t do us any good. We’re two peas in a pod my friend – We’re like Ice Cream and the Cone, Sonny and Cher, Jake and the Fatman – (to the audience) I tell you I’ve been pounding back Root Beer Floats faster than Iron Fist Maureen gives hand jobs – only a quarter – those were the days…
Roger: Would you get to a point – lunatic.
Salesman: (puts arm around Rog) Rog – do you know what a straightman is?
Roger: No.
Salesman: The straightman is a time-honored posistion that holds the whole integrity of a comedic routine together. The straightman is the opposite of the wacky character – the coffee to the cream – You can’t have one without the other. I know what you’re thinking – you want a demonstration! Well – I’m not a wacky salesman for nothing!
(He shoves Roger towards the back)
Salesman: Don’t worry Rog, you’re not going to break anything – there ain’t no walls here (turns to audience) Right folks? Now you go hide back there – and watch.
(Roger hides a little backstage. Salesman goes to center.)
Salesman: Lookie me! I’m a goofy door-to-door salesman. Watch me do crazy things!
(He does a weird dance.)
Salesman: Now that was pretty uninspiring. That was comedy at it’s lowest common denominator (to audience) No offense to those who laughed. Who just wants to watch one goof for a whole sketch. This isn’t stand-up! I can tell by your slack-jawed mug you’re not picking up what I’m putting down, as the kids say – let’s try it another way.
(He runs over and grabs Roger, and shoves him back in his chair)
Salesman: (from wings) Alrigthy – you just sit there and do your nipple tweaking – what you were doing when I walked in.
(Roger awkwardly does so.)
Salesman: (walking in slowly) I gotta tell you Roger – that was more dull than Stephen Hawking singing “Sweet Child O’ Mine” at karaoke. (pause) Did you like that one?
Roger: Wasn’t bad.
Salesman: I aim to please! And look at us go – riffing off each other – that is our relationship – and the driving force of a good comedy sketch. Me – the wacky character – You –
Roger: The straightman.
Salesman: Precisely! You deadpan your way to fame and fortune from here Rogerino!
Roger: So what exactly are you selling?
Salesman: An ending to this sketch! Whaddya say? Do we yammer on in front these fine folks – stretching this scene further than Elton John’s prostate – or with a simple purchase – we can cap this sucker off and leave ‘em smiling…trust me kid – this ain’t the Pivot festival – these folks actually paid to come here (wink to audience)
Roger: Ok – how much.
Salesman: You are lucky we’re such good friends Roger. To other people – like that fellow over there (point to person) I would rip him off faster than a band-aid on Lindsay Lohan’s ass –
Roger: Nice one.
Salesman: I’m moving up with the times Rog. So for you my friend – I have one hot sketch ending – for only 5 bucks.
Roger: Okay. (he digs in his pocket for the money and hands it over)
Salesman: A scholar and a gentleman are you Roger. Here you go.
(He pulls out a sheet of paper from his pocket and passes it to Roger.)
Salesman: Take a second to give it a go-over Rog – I’ll softshoe.
(He softshoes a bit for the audience while Rog studies the paper.)
Salesman: How’s it goin’ Rog – my feet are swelling larger than Gary Busey’s arteries.
Roger: I think I’m ready…
Salesman: Ok – let’s do this chum!
(They hop to center and sing to the tune of “Those were the Days” from All in the Family.)
Salesman: “I came in and you dismayed.”
Roger: “My sense of self had been belayed –“
Salesman: “Like a bitch who’d just been spayed –“
Roger: (Looks at Salesman, who shrugs) Ouch. “I’m now remade!”
Salesman: “Now you know when jokes are said –“
Roger: “I’ll just frown and shake my head –“
Together: “And we’ll make life outta strife and reap laughs till the end…”
Salesman: “Looks like now our time is spent –“
Roger: “I needed that five bucks for rent.”
Salesman: “Least you got more than George Wendt –“
Roger: George Wendt? Who’s that?
Salesman: EX-actly.
Together: “I’m (Your) now remade!”
(Blackout)
The Complaint Desk 2
(Man is sitting on a chair – miming watching TV. Another man, an obvious door-to-door salesman waltzes in and mimes knocking on the door.)
Salesman: (to no one in particular) Well now – we have a little quandary here. Without a door – am I still a Salesman? You bet I am!
(He walks through the imaginary wall – and silently walks behind man.)
Salesman: Say kiddo – whacha doin’?
(Man jumps up with a start)
Man: What the Hell! Who are you? Get out my house before I call the cops!
Salesman: Now, now chum – let’s slide the mercury down the gauge eh – you’re getting more excited than Lana Turner’ gynecologist.
Man: What?
Salesman: Don’t get out much do you? I can see that. Nice place you have here.
Man: Who the hell are you?
Salesman: Who I am is a philosophical question I don’t need to ask – I’ve gazed into my abyss and the only thing that looked back was yesterday’s pastrami on rye –
(He belts his stomach and burps.)
Salesman: Why I went to a German deli I’ll never know – Between you and me the 13 tribes got outta the desert for two reasons – so we could have packed houses on Broadway and so I could get a lunch to remember.
(Man looks at him stunned)
Salesman: You look more stunned than a retired Chinese railway worker – Let me slow things down. You happy Roger – Can I call you Rog?
Roger: No.
Salesman: Fantastic Rog! I can tell you are someone who may not be happy with their lot in life – am I right Rog?
Roger: Uh –
Salesman: Uh – indeed Rog. Did I say you had a nice placet here? Solid. Some very solid walls – especially this one. (He points to the audience) You like this wall Rog? The fourth wall?
Roger: What?
Salesman: Rog, Rog, Rogerino – Don’t be coy with me kiddo. You look about as down as Uri Geller at a spoon straightening tournament. And I think I know why.
Roger: Why?
Salesman: You think this grand universe of yours dealt you a lousy hand – don’tcha?
Roger: Well.
Salesman: C’mon Rog, let’s be honest – when I walked in, you were sitting in a bare stage pretending to watch an invisible TV – how sad is that? And between you and me, I’m no Marcel Marceau – but I couldn’t tell if you were watching TV or lazily trying to tweak that person’s nipple (point to person in audience)
Roger: Well it sucks.
Salesman: I know you think that. You think, I have no good lines, I’m barely fleshed out – and I have no interesting character traits. Right.
Roger: Yeah.
Salesman: Why look at me! I have a loud suit – an outrageous accent and I repeatedly drop anachronistic nonsensical similes. That’s about as colourful as Doug Henning’s wardrobe.
Roger: Exactly.
Salesman: That’s what you might think Rog. I saw you in the other sketch my friend, "The Complaint Desk", and I’m mightily impressed.
Roger: What are you talking about? I don’t do anything! Get out of my house!
Salesman: Ah my bellicose buddy – strolling out of this scene you call home wouldn’t do us any good. We’re two peas in a pod my friend – We’re like Ice Cream and the Cone, Sonny and Cher, Jake and the Fatman – (to the audience) I tell you I’ve been pounding back Root Beer Floats faster than Iron Fist Maureen gives hand jobs – only a quarter – those were the days…
Roger: Would you get to a point – lunatic.
Salesman: (puts arm around Rog) Rog – do you know what a straightman is?
Roger: No.
Salesman: The straightman is a time-honored posistion that holds the whole integrity of a comedic routine together. The straightman is the opposite of the wacky character – the coffee to the cream – You can’t have one without the other. I know what you’re thinking – you want a demonstration! Well – I’m not a wacky salesman for nothing!
(He shoves Roger towards the back)
Salesman: Don’t worry Rog, you’re not going to break anything – there ain’t no walls here (turns to audience) Right folks? Now you go hide back there – and watch.
(Roger hides a little backstage. Salesman goes to center.)
Salesman: Lookie me! I’m a goofy door-to-door salesman. Watch me do crazy things!
(He does a weird dance.)
Salesman: Now that was pretty uninspiring. That was comedy at it’s lowest common denominator (to audience) No offense to those who laughed. Who just wants to watch one goof for a whole sketch. This isn’t stand-up! I can tell by your slack-jawed mug you’re not picking up what I’m putting down, as the kids say – let’s try it another way.
(He runs over and grabs Roger, and shoves him back in his chair)
Salesman: (from wings) Alrigthy – you just sit there and do your nipple tweaking – what you were doing when I walked in.
(Roger awkwardly does so.)
Salesman: (walking in slowly) I gotta tell you Roger – that was more dull than Stephen Hawking singing “Sweet Child O’ Mine” at karaoke. (pause) Did you like that one?
Roger: Wasn’t bad.
Salesman: I aim to please! And look at us go – riffing off each other – that is our relationship – and the driving force of a good comedy sketch. Me – the wacky character – You –
Roger: The straightman.
Salesman: Precisely! You deadpan your way to fame and fortune from here Rogerino!
Roger: So what exactly are you selling?
Salesman: An ending to this sketch! Whaddya say? Do we yammer on in front these fine folks – stretching this scene further than Elton John’s prostate – or with a simple purchase – we can cap this sucker off and leave ‘em smiling…trust me kid – this ain’t the Pivot festival – these folks actually paid to come here (wink to audience)
Roger: Ok – how much.
Salesman: You are lucky we’re such good friends Roger. To other people – like that fellow over there (point to person) I would rip him off faster than a band-aid on Lindsay Lohan’s ass –
Roger: Nice one.
Salesman: I’m moving up with the times Rog. So for you my friend – I have one hot sketch ending – for only 5 bucks.
Roger: Okay. (he digs in his pocket for the money and hands it over)
Salesman: A scholar and a gentleman are you Roger. Here you go.
(He pulls out a sheet of paper from his pocket and passes it to Roger.)
Salesman: Take a second to give it a go-over Rog – I’ll softshoe.
(He softshoes a bit for the audience while Rog studies the paper.)
Salesman: How’s it goin’ Rog – my feet are swelling larger than Gary Busey’s arteries.
Roger: I think I’m ready…
Salesman: Ok – let’s do this chum!
(They hop to center and sing to the tune of “Those were the Days” from All in the Family.)
Salesman: “I came in and you dismayed.”
Roger: “My sense of self had been belayed –“
Salesman: “Like a bitch who’d just been spayed –“
Roger: (Looks at Salesman, who shrugs) Ouch. “I’m now remade!”
Salesman: “Now you know when jokes are said –“
Roger: “I’ll just frown and shake my head –“
Together: “And we’ll make life outta strife and reap laughs till the end…”
Salesman: “Looks like now our time is spent –“
Roger: “I needed that five bucks for rent.”
Salesman: “Least you got more than George Wendt –“
Roger: George Wendt? Who’s that?
Salesman: EX-actly.
Together: “I’m (Your) now remade!”
(Blackout)
Sketch: The Complaint Desk
Kinda fond of this one - though it doesn't usually go over that well -
The Complaint Desk
(A man (Roger) sits behind a booth that is adorned with a large sign saying “Complaints”. A man (Edward) holding a box covered with a sheet enters and walks up to him.)
Edward: Excuse me?
Roger: Yes?
Edward: I would like to register a complaint.
Roger: One moment please.
(Roger starts putting away the magazine he was reading, then stands up and looks at Edward as if noticing him for the first time. He takes a perplexed look at his box.)
Edward: Is something wrong?
(Roger moves around the booth and takes a look at the “Complaints” sign, then heads back around and once again looks at Edward.)
Edward: I’m sorry, is there –
Roger: Wait.
(Roger bows his head in thought, then looks at Edward.)
Roger: This –
(Edward looks at Roger expectantly.)
Roger: This – This isn’t a comedy sketch is it?
Edward: Er…
Roger: I mean, this certainly has all the hallmarks of a comedy sketch.
Edward: I’m not sure what you –
Roger: Oh come on, I’m sitting at a booth. A “Complaints” booth. And you come in with some mystery box.
Edward: So?
Roger: Hello?!? Classic sketch exposition! A little bit hack if you ask me.
Edward: What do you mean?
Roger: Well it’s just so overdone isn’t it? The whole shopkeep / customer thing. You come in, introduce the wacky conflict or either you or I have some sort of extreme personality disorder – hilarity ensues!
(Roger sits down. Pause.)
Edward: I’m not sure I fully understand.
Roger: Oh for Christ’s sake, there’s even a friggin audience!
(Roger goes around and hauls Edward to front of stage, and points audience out. Edward is very uncomfortable of having 4th wall broken.)
Roger: See! (He waves his arms around gesturing at everything) Sketch!
(Roger goes back to his chair. Edward takes his position.)
Edward: So, do you want to know what my complaint is about?
Roger: (sigh) Lemme guess, it’s something to do with the box.
Edward: Yes.
Roger: Wow. (to himself) Jesus, I guess I gotta play along. Get this over with. (to Edward) Okay! What, sir, is your problem?
Edward: Well you see –
Roger: (making exaggerated gestures) WHAT! Can I! Help you! With!
Edward: Are you all right?
Roger: Just trying to breathe life into this. I mean, these guys paid money. (He motions to audience, then looks at them) You did pay money right?
Edward: I see. Well, I would like to register a complaint. My hamster is doing very well.
Roger: What? Are you serious?
Edward: Completely.
Roger: This is the Parrot sketch!
Edward: What?
Roger: (to the wings) FUCK! This is the goddamn Parrot Sketch! Classic Monty Python! “Pining for the fjords!” How about some friggin’ originality here!
Edward: Er, you see, Oslo, that’s my hamster’s name, he has –
Roger: What? He’s dead? He needs a “hamster” license? Is on first? Took a wrong turn at Albuquerque? Only has one leg? On Thursdays at 9? Has a canoe welded to his head? Is a Newfoundland separtist? Has a cabbage for a head? Only knows elementary school French? Makes things out of duct tape? The only gay in the village?
(A man enters suddlenly on stage)
Man: And now for something completely different!
(Blackout)
Roger: You guys suck.
The Complaint Desk
(A man (Roger) sits behind a booth that is adorned with a large sign saying “Complaints”. A man (Edward) holding a box covered with a sheet enters and walks up to him.)
Edward: Excuse me?
Roger: Yes?
Edward: I would like to register a complaint.
Roger: One moment please.
(Roger starts putting away the magazine he was reading, then stands up and looks at Edward as if noticing him for the first time. He takes a perplexed look at his box.)
Edward: Is something wrong?
(Roger moves around the booth and takes a look at the “Complaints” sign, then heads back around and once again looks at Edward.)
Edward: I’m sorry, is there –
Roger: Wait.
(Roger bows his head in thought, then looks at Edward.)
Roger: This –
(Edward looks at Roger expectantly.)
Roger: This – This isn’t a comedy sketch is it?
Edward: Er…
Roger: I mean, this certainly has all the hallmarks of a comedy sketch.
Edward: I’m not sure what you –
Roger: Oh come on, I’m sitting at a booth. A “Complaints” booth. And you come in with some mystery box.
Edward: So?
Roger: Hello?!? Classic sketch exposition! A little bit hack if you ask me.
Edward: What do you mean?
Roger: Well it’s just so overdone isn’t it? The whole shopkeep / customer thing. You come in, introduce the wacky conflict or either you or I have some sort of extreme personality disorder – hilarity ensues!
(Roger sits down. Pause.)
Edward: I’m not sure I fully understand.
Roger: Oh for Christ’s sake, there’s even a friggin audience!
(Roger goes around and hauls Edward to front of stage, and points audience out. Edward is very uncomfortable of having 4th wall broken.)
Roger: See! (He waves his arms around gesturing at everything) Sketch!
(Roger goes back to his chair. Edward takes his position.)
Edward: So, do you want to know what my complaint is about?
Roger: (sigh) Lemme guess, it’s something to do with the box.
Edward: Yes.
Roger: Wow. (to himself) Jesus, I guess I gotta play along. Get this over with. (to Edward) Okay! What, sir, is your problem?
Edward: Well you see –
Roger: (making exaggerated gestures) WHAT! Can I! Help you! With!
Edward: Are you all right?
Roger: Just trying to breathe life into this. I mean, these guys paid money. (He motions to audience, then looks at them) You did pay money right?
Edward: I see. Well, I would like to register a complaint. My hamster is doing very well.
Roger: What? Are you serious?
Edward: Completely.
Roger: This is the Parrot sketch!
Edward: What?
Roger: (to the wings) FUCK! This is the goddamn Parrot Sketch! Classic Monty Python! “Pining for the fjords!” How about some friggin’ originality here!
Edward: Er, you see, Oslo, that’s my hamster’s name, he has –
Roger: What? He’s dead? He needs a “hamster” license? Is on first? Took a wrong turn at Albuquerque? Only has one leg? On Thursdays at 9? Has a canoe welded to his head? Is a Newfoundland separtist? Has a cabbage for a head? Only knows elementary school French? Makes things out of duct tape? The only gay in the village?
(A man enters suddlenly on stage)
Man: And now for something completely different!
(Blackout)
Roger: You guys suck.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
And so -
Well, I'm not 25 grand richer - but what a long, fun trip it was.
Scroll down and you'll get the drift of my trip.
I was lucky enough to have a layover in Vancouver, at the same time that Yukyuk's has their Pro/Am nights - a mixture of sets from professional and amateur stand-ups. I had emailed the feller in charge and he gave me the okay to do a set.
It was the perfect practise round for Toronto - and all-in-all, I had a pretty strong set. I was pretty worried about the whole time thing, as in, at these clubs - you have a set amount of time, going over your time is a faux-pas.
I kept everything quick and easy, and had great crowd response.
Naturally, killing in unfamiliar territory is a huge rush.
However, once I got to Toronto - I couldn't stop stressing out. This knot of worry just grew and grew all day on the Friday before showtime. I was actually slightly worried about my growing state of nausea. It didn't help we went to a mediocre Italian restaurant beforehand.
I did a couple of practise rounds in the hotel room, and off I went.
I went into the green room and met the other comedians who would be participating that night. One older comic and I had a great chat about touring. And he was telling me stories about his booker sending him to Fort St-John, and other dives around Northern BC and Alberta - some very interesting and sobering stuff.
Then I joined in the queue of pacing comedians, worrying their hands as they went over the sets, and poured over their notes. At least it was comforting to know I wasn't the only one about to crap themselves.
When my name was called, my stomach jumped and away I went. While it wasn't one of my solid moments (the nerves certainly got to me), I had a pretty good set. Even Mark Breslin - the founder of Yukyuk's, and the very funny MC of the evening, gave me a thumbs up.
It was quite a mix of talent on the stage - and I guess I had been naive in my uinderstanding that you needed to be funny to be a pro stand-up comedian.
A lot of jokes were pretty formulaic, and standard. The MC even made a meta-joke on the subject - though it might have been lost on some of the attendees.
I can say that I know I could be doing this professionaly if I want to. All it takes is being in a city with a lot of clubs, then hitting them up as much as possible. Eventually, you get picked and you journey of living in your car begins.
I asked myself, is this what I really want to do?
I'm not so sure.
Scroll down and you'll get the drift of my trip.
I was lucky enough to have a layover in Vancouver, at the same time that Yukyuk's has their Pro/Am nights - a mixture of sets from professional and amateur stand-ups. I had emailed the feller in charge and he gave me the okay to do a set.
It was the perfect practise round for Toronto - and all-in-all, I had a pretty strong set. I was pretty worried about the whole time thing, as in, at these clubs - you have a set amount of time, going over your time is a faux-pas.
I kept everything quick and easy, and had great crowd response.
Naturally, killing in unfamiliar territory is a huge rush.
However, once I got to Toronto - I couldn't stop stressing out. This knot of worry just grew and grew all day on the Friday before showtime. I was actually slightly worried about my growing state of nausea. It didn't help we went to a mediocre Italian restaurant beforehand.
I did a couple of practise rounds in the hotel room, and off I went.
I went into the green room and met the other comedians who would be participating that night. One older comic and I had a great chat about touring. And he was telling me stories about his booker sending him to Fort St-John, and other dives around Northern BC and Alberta - some very interesting and sobering stuff.
Then I joined in the queue of pacing comedians, worrying their hands as they went over the sets, and poured over their notes. At least it was comforting to know I wasn't the only one about to crap themselves.
When my name was called, my stomach jumped and away I went. While it wasn't one of my solid moments (the nerves certainly got to me), I had a pretty good set. Even Mark Breslin - the founder of Yukyuk's, and the very funny MC of the evening, gave me a thumbs up.
It was quite a mix of talent on the stage - and I guess I had been naive in my uinderstanding that you needed to be funny to be a pro stand-up comedian.
A lot of jokes were pretty formulaic, and standard. The MC even made a meta-joke on the subject - though it might have been lost on some of the attendees.
I can say that I know I could be doing this professionaly if I want to. All it takes is being in a city with a lot of clubs, then hitting them up as much as possible. Eventually, you get picked and you journey of living in your car begins.
I asked myself, is this what I really want to do?
I'm not so sure.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Great Canadian Laugh-Off
Due to some lucky computer randomness, I will be participating in said Laugh-Off.
It's put on by Yukyuk's - and involves stand-up comedians vying for a 25 thousand dollar prize.
It's a mix of veterans and amateurs, so as to how I'll match up, I have absolutely no idea.
I'll be heading down to Toronto at the beginning of April, and then doing 8 minutes of blathering, for a shot at getting into the finals.
We shall see.
It's put on by Yukyuk's - and involves stand-up comedians vying for a 25 thousand dollar prize.
It's a mix of veterans and amateurs, so as to how I'll match up, I have absolutely no idea.
I'll be heading down to Toronto at the beginning of April, and then doing 8 minutes of blathering, for a shot at getting into the finals.
We shall see.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Waxing Gygaxian
Trolling the blogosphere turns up more than a few articles about Gary Gygax, one of the creators and driving forces behind Dungeons and Dragons, and his death this past week.
Not that I really wanted to opine terribly much on the subject, but I naturally started to cast my mind back to those days I spent in darkened basements (usually John's or Peter's), rolling dice and eating junk food.
My first exposure to Role-Playing was game of WarHammer RPG, a particularly grim, gritty and unsurvivable world where more time was spent delving through their ridiculous character creation system: "I'm a Rat-catcher! Yay!", than actually doing anything before your personage died a horrible death.
Yes - I was hooked.
It was pretty much inevitable, cause after that my next foray was with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Ahhh, good ole TMNT - wherein you would portray a mutated animal.
I was a camel. Yep.
Years would pass and reams of character sheets, dice and pizza.
I have a lot of memories invested in the rolling of dice. There was a lot of joking around, a lot of comraderie - and a lot of imagination.
So Kudos to those Comrades and the times we spent. To John, for creating one of the creepiest moods in my imagination with that Chill campaign, and to Andy - for making me laugh my ass off one so many occaisions - and the six fucking years we spent on his Grand Guignol.
I tip my glass to you Mr. Gygax.
Not that I really wanted to opine terribly much on the subject, but I naturally started to cast my mind back to those days I spent in darkened basements (usually John's or Peter's), rolling dice and eating junk food.
My first exposure to Role-Playing was game of WarHammer RPG, a particularly grim, gritty and unsurvivable world where more time was spent delving through their ridiculous character creation system: "I'm a Rat-catcher! Yay!", than actually doing anything before your personage died a horrible death.
Yes - I was hooked.
It was pretty much inevitable, cause after that my next foray was with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Ahhh, good ole TMNT - wherein you would portray a mutated animal.
I was a camel. Yep.
Years would pass and reams of character sheets, dice and pizza.
I have a lot of memories invested in the rolling of dice. There was a lot of joking around, a lot of comraderie - and a lot of imagination.
So Kudos to those Comrades and the times we spent. To John, for creating one of the creepiest moods in my imagination with that Chill campaign, and to Andy - for making me laugh my ass off one so many occaisions - and the six fucking years we spent on his Grand Guignol.
I tip my glass to you Mr. Gygax.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
My First Roast
This past weekend, a very good friend of mine was having a suprise birthday party - which was also announced as a roast.
Roasts are a time-honored tradition wherein the guest of honor (and indeed it is a point of honor) is celebrated by being completely insulted by his/her peers. The idea is to tear the person a new asshole in the most loving way possible. There's a lotta respect involved, amidst all the bashing - and thus it's usually quite a good time.
Dean Martin brought the roast into popularity - and Comedy Central's recent hilarious roasts of William Shatner, Flava Flav, etc. - have brought them into the mainstream.
The idea was certainly tantalizing to do one here. There are certainly enough subjects, but when the idea was briefly bandied about - it just seemed that it would likely turn into people lamely insulting each other. There has to be an art to the whole thing - and the key I think is to have a genuine affection for the subject.
So - I thought long and hard about what I would write - I love the guy, and didn't want feelings hurt. So I churned out what I thought was something honest, and filled with some light witty jabs.
I went up to the mic that evening and went through the whole thing - the crowd laughed, he laughed - and at the end I could see he was genuinely touched.
Could I have been harder on the guy? Sure. But it was my first time - and it was a pretty special event. And no really my cup of tea - insulting people makes me slightly ill.
I think I'll just stick to denigrating myself - that I can do.
Roasts are a time-honored tradition wherein the guest of honor (and indeed it is a point of honor) is celebrated by being completely insulted by his/her peers. The idea is to tear the person a new asshole in the most loving way possible. There's a lotta respect involved, amidst all the bashing - and thus it's usually quite a good time.
Dean Martin brought the roast into popularity - and Comedy Central's recent hilarious roasts of William Shatner, Flava Flav, etc. - have brought them into the mainstream.
The idea was certainly tantalizing to do one here. There are certainly enough subjects, but when the idea was briefly bandied about - it just seemed that it would likely turn into people lamely insulting each other. There has to be an art to the whole thing - and the key I think is to have a genuine affection for the subject.
So - I thought long and hard about what I would write - I love the guy, and didn't want feelings hurt. So I churned out what I thought was something honest, and filled with some light witty jabs.
I went up to the mic that evening and went through the whole thing - the crowd laughed, he laughed - and at the end I could see he was genuinely touched.
Could I have been harder on the guy? Sure. But it was my first time - and it was a pretty special event. And no really my cup of tea - insulting people makes me slightly ill.
I think I'll just stick to denigrating myself - that I can do.
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