First off, let me welcome people back to Rick’s. There has been something of an unofficial hiatus because I really haven’t had time to write. That has now changed a little, since I no longer have a job. The document review project that I was soooo enjoying has come to an abrupt end (that didn’t include a firing), so I will be blogging a bit more. Starting with this little nugget about my comedy career.
Last night at the New York Comedy Club I got reviewed. A lot. A superficial examination of the reviews would be considered bad news, but in keeping with my new sunny outlook on life (I’ve already forgotten about the election!) I’m going to focus on the silver lining while thinking a lot about the cloud.
My spot at the New York Comedy Club was the result of my past success getting people to come to bringer shows. My reward was that I didn’t need to bring anyone last night, so I didn’t beg people to come and see me. Before I did my set, I spoke with Buddy, the producer of the audition night and last night’s show. The sad short version of our conversation is that the road bookers weren’t interested. The longer, not-nearly-as-sad version includes their actual notes on my performance:
Booker 1: funny ... clever ... potential ... if you haven’t seen Spider-Man, you’re lost in his act
Booker 2: good presence ... funny ... potential ... introductions are too long
Modest, but as far as I’m concerned, fucking awesome. I’ve been doing this for, generously, six months. Really only five, since I didn’t perform at all in between the Funny Jew/Laywer contests in early June and the Funny Jew finals in July. And, frankly, I think the guy is wrong about Spider-Man. The super hero is a guy with spider-like powers and a secret identity. Are the concepts so abstract that you need the movie to take you through them? As for the other guy, my introductions ARE too long. He didn’t tell me anything that Zinester and Brother of Ugarte don’t already tell me after almost every set. The key words up there are “potential” and “funny”.
The comments on the other comics made me feel even better: not funny ... no potential ... absolutely no potential ... TERRIBLE ... (a comment that so clearly identified a specific comic that I can’t repeat it here) ... NO potential. They were tough critics. And they liked my stuff, even though they don’t think I’m ready. Pretty cool.
The other reviews came from the audience (of around 16 people). They were not as positive. The set started poorly when I was introduced, more or less, as a nobody. I’m sure Kurt didn’t mean it to come out that way, but the standard intro for new comics performing in the regular show sounds like This next guy is as awkward as a newborn foal. We are trying to nurture him, but admit that he might suck. Please stay for the next comic even if he totally eats it. Not really confidence-inspiring. Then, to show what a nobody I am, he called me to the stage as “Christopher Star” and I had to correct him*. It didn’t pick up much from there. I blew the intro to my joke about my (former) job and had to wing my A.M. New York joke because I forgot the paper at home (the theatricality of using the prop helps the joke). I also mucked around with some other joke formulations, making them worse and tried a new joke that I didn’t take the time to write out completely. I even underperformed the Spider-Man close. The result was a tepid audience response.
That said, it wasn’t horrible. At least a few people laughed at every joke, everyone laughed at the cheap jokes and one guy was laughing at all of the smart stuff. I have the perspective to know that the poor response was mostly my fault, but in retrospect maybe a riff on last week’s Rumsfeld press conference wasn’t the best idea when it became clear that 99% of the audience don’t know who Donald Rumsfeld is. Or that we are at war. (Don’t ever blame the audience. -ed. I’m not blaming the audience. Telling the joke was my fault and I admit that I didn’t tell it particularly well. Does that mean I can’t judge the audience?). Looking at the positive, the audience seemed to like me personally, even though I was having a bad set. They were waiting for a joke to be told right so they could laugh and when I managed to not blow the Spider-Man jokes, they laughed hard.
Lessons learned: Keep on plugging away. Tighten up the intros. Write the jokes completely before you get on stage. Remember to bring your one and only prop. And make sure the emcee knows your name.
* Brother of Ugarte can be heard on tape audibly laughing at the screw-up. He will pay dearly for reacting with laughter instead of outrage.
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Ugarte, Reviewed
