When you’re surrounded by several hundred sweat-drenched people on a New York City sidewalk for hours at a time, you don’t expect to see so many smiles. Unless, apparently, the crowd’s waiting to catch a taping of celebrity quiz show Match Game ‘76, or an X-rated pantomime performed by chanting robots, or a brilliantly threaded 30 minutes of completely improvised comedy — or all three in the same hour. Last weekend, a small army of exuberant fans streamed into the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre (and several nearby spaces) for all this and more, courtesy of the 14th annual Del Close Marathon, a sleepless weekend celebrating improv at its sharpest — and its most pointedly absurd.
Months before the 2012 lineup was even released, marathon veterans wondered whether the event was finally about to reach its well-deserved tipping point. What began as a single theater production honoring the memory of late comedy innovator (and UCB muse) Del Close has grown to a 54-hour-long, caffeine-fueled comedy overload spanning multiple venues (and an official off-site party space, now famed to the point of being essentially inaccessible during the weekend’s peak hours). DCM features acts from training centers and cities across the globe, with a focus on local New York teams and alumni of the UCB’s bi-coastal courses; for many improv fans, it’s a highly anticipated chance to catch mind-expanding talent and discover new favorite groups, and with each festival season its core audience visibly grows. This year, the UCB’s new East Village outpost stretched the marathon across Manhattan, and more slots for headlining acts — like a 30 Rock staff supergroup, multimedia sketch masters BriTaNicK, and public access hit The Chris Gethard Show – filled the School of Visual Arts’ two Chelsea auditoriums for a grand total of seven stages (up from last year’s five). It’s no surprise programmers prepared for a much larger crowd than usual — the lineup featured over 100 more performing groups than in 2011 and, while the audience tends to be heavily populated by participants, general wristband and single-ticket sales were also up. READ MORE
Following an abrupt departure from his wildly popular (and still widely quoted) sketch show, stand-up/actor Dave Chappelle has managed to maintain a relatively low profile. Though he’s opted to stay out of the spotlight, he still does badass things like decide, on a whim, to ride his motorcycle across the country for a secret run of shows. Earlier this week, with less than 24 hours notice, Chappelle scheduled and sold out Austin’s 1,200-seat Paramount Theater. It was a rare opportunity to witness the emotional and intellectual growth of a legendary act, but unfortunately, the audience was mostly there to see the Prince-mocking Half Baked star’s greatest hits. When the toned-down comic who took the stage wasn’t quite what they expected, the show became less of a performance and more an awkward back and forth between Chappelle and the crowd. Understandably, people were pissed, and in the days since, there’s been a lot of blame placed on the audience, the venue, Austin in general and Chappelle himself, but the bottom line is, it’s been nearly a decade since we’ve seen much of Chappelle, and things have changed: READ MORE
Within an hour of arriving at Bonnaroo, I‘d stumbled into a smoky circle of kids from Annapolis. Across from me sat a shirtless boy who, between long draws from a Camelbak, kept loudly referencing The Tao of Pooh; to my right, one showing off the glass pipes he’d picked up at a roadside 3-for-1 sale. I checked my phone: still no service. With about 75 more hours of festival to go, this did not bode well.
A cross between Woodstock and spring break (circa 1998), in its ten-year run Bonnaroo has earned a reputation as a drug friendly hippie holiday, a completely immersive experience as focused on fostering good vibes as on curating an eclectic lineup. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the four-day music and arts festival, held annually on a Manchester, Tennessee field known as “The Farm,” though I had a feeling it’d be something like this: READ MORE
Though I was not born in Texas, and did not get here as fast as I could, and while much of what lies outside Austin City Limits is a mystery to me, there’s one local fact I know for sure: Austin’s got an insanely great comedy scene, and it’s growing fast.
It took awhile to get the timing right. In 1997 Austin Stories premiered, an effort to introduce an emerging stand-up scene to MTV’s hip audience with the help of Howard Kremer, Chip Pope, Laura House and Matt Bearden (also Patton Oswalt, who briefly served as head writer). Decidedly Slacker-inspired, its washed-out world of plaid-clad alternabands and happily unemployed freeloaders, while understatedly brilliant, didn’t quite catch on, getting the axe after twelve episodes.
Fast-forward fifteen years, and things feel pretty similar: day drinking is the city’s unofficial sport, the Live Music Capital is full of more amateur honky-tonk acts than you dared fear existed and, happily, nobody’s ever really ‘unemployed,’ they’re just ‘focusing on their screenplay / web series / revolutionary taco trailer concept / Twitter.’ But the incoming festivals, film studios and fleets of food trailers have spurred a climate change. As SXSW and ACL grew, so did the local music scene. As Richard Linklater and Robert Rodriguez found commercial success, their studios helped boost local filmmakers. This year, Austin prepares to launch its largest ever humor festival and SXSW continues to expand comedy programming, with sights set on similar exposure for the local stand-up scene. If there’s ever been a time to get on board, it’s now, and as the NY vs LA debate rages on, an increasing number of creative funny types are choosing to settle halfway between the two coasts instead.
Maybe you are one of them? The following abridged guide to comedy in Austin is for you. READ MORE
Imagine you’re Roman Polanski. (Stay with me, this isn’t going where you think.) It’s 1968, and you’re working on Rosemary’s Baby, a thriller that will go on to earn six Golden Globe and two Academy Award nominations. Everything’s going great until a bit player delays a day of shooting to debate your carefully scripted delivery. “To me, that’s not being a troublemaker — that’s just being alive,” actor Charles Grodin recalls the incident, more Zen than mortified, in a 1997 interview with Charlie Rose. The memory, and the glib explanation of it, exemplify performer-turned-pundit Grodin’s infamous churlishness, part of a personality introduced over dozens of wonderfully awkward late night TV appearances.
Grodin, whose career spans nearly fifty years, is a well-known thorn in the side of hosts who have spent decades dealing with his aggressive demeanor. His early guest appearances on the talk show circuit were quickly categorized as schtick, the affectation of a combative character whose eye-rolling accusations aimed to expose the fake friendliness of celebrity culture — and to prove that audiences loved the abuse. Throughout his shifting career, Grodin’s maintained and expanded on this “character,” challenging hosts and audiences to play along with the joke, or become the target. READ MORE
There are about a million different ways to describe The Chris Gethard Show: it’s a viewer-run panel that doesn’t hesitate to cast complete strangers as regular on-air guests; It’s a weekly dance party-slash-costume ball that counts Bananaman, Flashing Glasses Guy and a giant bunny as regular attendees; It’s an exercise in diffusing the awkward moments that inevitably arise when fielding calls from crazies, comics, kids and characters. But mostly, it’s really, really fun.
A weekly public access call-in series described as “the most bizarre and often saddest talk show in New York City,” The Chris Gethard Show got its start as a monthly, themed stage show at the UCB Theatre, known for memorable stunts like the Night of Zero Laughs (where attendees were removed from the theater for laughing), the Paintball Punishment Stand Up Challenge (where unfunny comics were shot by paintball guns) — even convincing Diddy (yes, that Diddy) to appear on the UCB stage. Early last year, Gethard and his cast took their show on the road with a twelve day, Kickstarter-funded trek from New York to LA; with no set plan, the crew made stops based on Twitter prompts from strangers and made it clear they were willing to do pretty much anything on the road.
This past May, Gethard announced that he was taking things to the next level, switching to a weekly schedule and making the show — a cult hit with fans who enjoy recounting “you had to be there” moments — accessible to a much larger pool of potential viewers. Now, the show broadcasts live on the Manhattan Neighborhood Network, while simultaneously streaming online (it’s also available as a video podcast through iTunes). READ MORE
“Hey. Remember DCM? (I don’t. Please fill me in.)”
Four days after I get home from the Upright Citizen Brigade Theatre’s 13th annual Del Close Marathon, this message pops up on my Facebook wall. I laugh for a second, trying to think of a stupid joke before realizing that — holy shit — I kind of can’t. Remember DCM, that is.
Towards the end, 50 straight hours of non-stop comedy on three stages (four, counting nightly featured shows) begin to blend together. Plus, the weekend-long festival is overcast by a frantic feeling of wanting to see everything (especially since this is likely your only annual chance to catch visiting groups). Presenting well-known acts like ASSSCAT, Baby Wants Candy and Derrick Comedy, plus UCB teams including The Stepfathers, Convoy and Mother, alongside late night shows with titles like Old Prospectors’ Make ‘Em Up Jamboree and Ira Glass-prov, the three-day festival honors the memory of improv guru Del Close the way the grandfather of modern comedy would have wanted: by creating an environment where performers feel not only free but obligated to push every boundary (both onstage and off). READ MORE
Dog wedding. Japanese wake. Mars Lander launch party. If frequently mourned Starz comedy Party Down lived to see a third season, those are just a few of the celebrations co-creators Rob Thomas, John Enbom and Dan Etheridge were hoping to have their forlorn crew of caterers-slash-Hollywood wannabes host. We assume Paul Rudd, the series' fourth Executive Producer, had some great ideas, too, but since he didn’t make it to last weekend’s Ultimate Party Down Marathon (held at the Alamo Drafthouse in Austin, Texas), we’ll just have to speculate.
Nearly 200 fans weathered the 10+ hour marathon, and they’re surprisingly alert as the event wraps up. Maybe it’s because they’ve just heard the show’s bluesy, bouncy theme 40 times through. Or maybe the high fives that Ken Marino and Adam Scott doled out, sprinting through each aisle before taking the stage, have something to do with it. As questions about favorite episodes and guest stars come in from the audience, Lizzy Caplan and Megan Mullally giggle and whisper; at one point, Martin Starr calls a time out, goading Scott into an air guitar rendition of George Michael’s “Faith” (a skill Scott’s apparently well-practiced in). This is an unmistakably close group, and their enthusiasm is infectious.
“We really wanted to do the Japanese wake, where all the guests would be speaking a different language,” explains Enbom, identifying the inane twist that would turn a funeral into a potentially awkward, definitely hilarious situation for Party Down's apathetic crew. Imagine Marino’s clueless but well-meaning Ron Donald attempting to offer condolences to a baffled foreigner; knowing Enbom’s style, it would probably end with a Pearl Harbor joke or, worse, a casket-related mishap. It’s those moments of “How the hell is he gonna deal with this?” that the show handles so well, slowly building each episode up to mind-blowing misunderstandings that are both over the top and totally relatable. READ MORE