by Michael Love, Nov. 3, 2009
The New York Comedy Festival is, in a word, big. Over the course of five days, Nov. 4-8, there are industry panels, book readings, storytelling shows, TV tapings, an amateur competition, a best-of sketch show, a best-of musical comedy show, and of course, lots of stand-up. With the wide variety of talent appearing everywhere from the UCB Theater to Carnegie Hall and so much potential laughter to be had, the most pressing question a prospective comedy consumer must ask is: What kind of laugh am I seeking? Herewith, The A.V. Club surveys six different sorts.
The Convivial Chuckle Of Discovery: Mike Birbiglia (Thursday, Nov. 5, Town Hall)
When you want…: A little kid to sit you down and tell you stories about his day, wide-eyed and bemused by their awkward twists.
Why: Mike Birbiglia seems to be still discovering the world and how it works, so when he talks about his confronting a bear beside his sister, playing shows for golfers, or his inadvertent nocturnal adventures—as he did in his highly successful one-man show Sleepwalk with Me—he comes off as genuinely full of wonder. Birbiglia's demeanor is easygoing and casual, and he allows an audience to see his vulnerabilities. It’s not just that he recognizes the potential for humor in small, pedestrian moment—everybody can do that. The key to his allure is his elegant ability to articulate and shape chaotic happenings into something everyone can recognize.
The Tittle Of The Naughty Schoolchild: Ricky Gervais (Thursday, Nov. 5, Carnegie Hall)
When you want…: To join that keenly perceptive teacher who knows the world beyond the classroom and therefore can’t stop giggling at the stupidity of the proceedings within.
Why: Ricky Gervais purports to examine larger phenomena in the titles of his stand-up shows at home—Fame, Politics, or, recently, Science. (They must lose something in translation because all we get stateside is Out Of England.) And he does, at least obliquely. He’s political, polemical, and proves his erudition with flurries of facts. Ultimately, though, he’s a scurvy dog. He impishly takes the piss out of the self-important parade of culture and makes the audience his accomplice. He swigs lager, gets physical, and plays with words until the crowd squirms with the kind of luscious, inappropriate laughter usually saved for quiet churches.
The Public Release Of Private Fantasy: Bill Burr (Friday, Nov. 6, Town Hall)
When you want…: Someone to lift those secret thoughts and unspoken feelings out of you and make you accept their absurdity.
Why: Bill Burr is not a misanthrope—he’s just more honest about his feelings and 99 percent of the populace. He’s combed through his life and located exactly what bothers him about relationships, race relations, and pretty much whatever’s on his mind. He doesn’t think an audience should necessarily subscribe to what he believes in, but he asks them to acknowledge the shared impulses underneath. If they resist or refuse, well, he’ll just have to push their faces in.
The Full-Body Hemorrhage: Tracy Morgan (Friday, Nov. 6, Carnegie Hall)
When you want…: To be overwhelmed by a creature of unabashed id.
Why: Talking about going to see Tracy Morgan is like talking about going to see a typhoon. An evening with him is as much about stand-up as it is about experiencing an inarguable a force of nature that an audience is simply beholden to. The dude is just naturally funny. He’s willing and quite capable of delving into his hungers and his needs, and he’ll do it whether you like it or not. Sex, drugs, fame, or his life before it—he’s uninhibited in talking about all of it. And you can tell from the steady, serious look in his eyes that it’s not just fun and games: He knows that talking about this stuff is going to help you.
The Startled Geek Snort: Patton Oswalt (Saturday, Nov. 7, Town Hall)
When you want…: To revel in the company of a supreme fanboy who’s so crafty and articulate that it makes your own dorkdom look cool.
Why: It’s no wonder that frustrated geeks everywhere turn to Oswalt. He’s like everyone: He’s consumed a lifetime of popular culture and now stands deep in its detritus, slowly examining item after item and obsessing over minutiae to help make sense of what he has become. Technology doesn’t work, childhood icons are crushed, and grown human beings eat the KFC Famous Bowl. His is a bleak landscape, but, in the end, Oswalt’s passions, intellect, and command of language manage to save him and his fans from a sad fate in their mothers’ basements.
The Dark Cackle Of Recognition: Louis C.K. (Sunday, Nov. 8, Carolines On Broadway)
When you want…: To experience the crying of your own damned soul.
Why: Louis C.K. is a man who gives the impression that he is telling his truth as simply as he can. He’s not wringing his hands or hammering jokes together; he just ushers you around, day by day and moment by moment, being sweetly brutal about everything he finds. He doesn’t placate his kids, doesn’t hold a candle for his wife, and doesn’t maintain any illusions about a glamorous life in show business. On the surface, it may seem that C.K. lacks sympathy. But give him a moment and it’s easy to see real warmth under there, struggling for time in an otherwise baffling existence.
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