Comedians: They Live Among Us
I’m not sure how the average comedy gig is supposed to leave you feeling. I went to a total of one when researching for this article, and I left feeling extremely suspicious. The ease with which performers at Fringe’s open mic night left their chairs, told some funny jokes, then sat back down disconcerted me. Could anyone be a stand-up comedian? Are they living among us in secret? How would I know if I came across one? So I set out on an investigation of sorts—to find out if they really do walk among us.
The situation: my friends’ apartment in central Wellington, Thursday night. Somebody next door won’t stop airdropping Snapchat screenshots of monkeys in suits, captioned ‘rizz’ and ‘mr man’. The premise: I make five of my friends debate. The purpose: to find out a) who’s the best public speaker and b) who’s the funniest.
Last but not least, the stakes: a single dark blue bottle opener with ‘Night ‘n Day’ written on the side in comic sans.
“Good tool,” says Blue. Closely associated with several political groups on campus, he has been unrelatedly described as ‘Boss Baby if he was a teenager’.
“That’s a dumb prize,” says Jay, who is associated with the opposite political groups to Blue, and wears a fuzzy hat that makes her look like a bumblebee.
“Do I have to do this?” says Joseph (he is already a prime suspect in my investigation). He has a Master’s in Volcanology, extremely well-brushed hair, and he is good at jokes. Too good.
“I am having such a good time,” says Aria, very close to the mic. Aria is a Bachelor of Communications student and a brilliant public speaker. Also a prime suspect.
Our last competitor, Haz, chooses to remain silent.
Is this a sign?
Here are the rules of the debate. My phone (the mic) is the talking stick. My laugh (on a scale from ha...ha to HAHAHA) earns points. Other audience reactions (a wee giggle, applause, or leaving the room unexpectedly) are also tallied on the scorecard. Whoever gets the highest score wins a bottle opener. Nice.
To provoke a fire argument that will unearth all the charm, suave, and funny jokes that land really well in the room, my prompts are all Year 8 debate questions.
ROUND 1
“Humans are the most dangerous animal on the planet,” I begin. “Agree or disagree?”
“I already forgot the question,” Jay says. (0/10)
“I think humans are unstoppable because...” Aria pauses here. This has the potential to be a great joke. Both of us hold our breath. The room fills with energy. “Snakes. Sometimes we’re okay with them.” What a let down. Point for suspense. (1/10)
Joseph stands up out of his beanbag. “I got told the other day that humans didn’t evolve from primates. But that’s not true,” he declares. “I think they got confused with sharks. Sharks haven’t changed in two million years.” This answer gets a point for detail and five points for delivery.
According to a Guardian interview with Stephen Rosenfield, founding director of the American Comedy Institute, the key to standup comedy is “joyous communication”—expressing that you are taking joy in the opportunity to speak to your audience. Joseph’s answer shows enthusiasm. A suspicious amount of enthusiasm. (6/10)
“That is the least I’ve laughed in my life,” Haz says in response to Joseph, which subtracts a point from Joseph’s score by merit of the audience feedback tally. However, Haz has no other comment or joke to make. Therefore, the objection is canceled out. Joseph’s score remains at 6/10.
Finally, Blue. “All I can say,” he begins, “is everyone's wrong. Meerkats are the most dangerous predator.”
As pictured in the seminal wikiHow article ‘How to Perform Stand Up Comedy’, one trick a comedian may use is ‘‘revising the flow of their jokes by eliminating unneeded words”. The article goes on to recommend writing a joke in 250 words, editing down to 100, and then continuously editing until the joke reaches under 50 words. Given that Blue’s answer numbers only 13 words, wikiHow would rank him as extraordinarily funny. My review was that some important information may have been excluded. Blue gets an 8/10.
We have a break to eat potato chips. All participants in the investigation seem comfortable in their surroundings, unaware that there is a bonafide stand-up comedian in their midst. I keep a careful eye on the scorecards. Anything could happen at this point. Any tallies could jump.
ROUND 2
I announce the next prompt, “Cats or dogs?”
Jay answers first. “Dogs, they’re cute, like otters. Did you know otters hold hands while they sleep?” The room gives a collective gasp. I mark it down on her scorecard.
“My cat, Trevor,” says Joseph, and offers nothing else. A repeat of Blue’s strategy. Points?
“Dogs! Because I love you, dawg,” says Aria. Classic. Kinda punny. Is a pun a sign of a stand-up comedian?
I turn to The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Volume 78, Issue 4, September 2020, pages 491–500. In ‘Winning Over the Audience: Trust and Humor in Stand-Up Comedy’, Daniel Abrahams defines a humor act (like a joke, gag, or prank) as being comprised of three roles. The first role is of the humourist, the second role the audience, and the third role the target of the humour, or what is being “laughed at”. He writes that humour centered around puns “does not necessarily feature anything being laughed at”.
Which is a great academic point on differentiating terms and targets, but I read it at first as ‘puns aren’t funny’. So Aria gets a 0/10.
Neither of the other two provide an answer for this question. Still, the way Blue widens his eyes and Haz can’t decide on an answer is hilarious, and I end up laughing. Damnit.
So far, all five of my friends are neck and neck. Except for Aria, who seems quite safe. Any one of four of my friends might be an experienced stand-up comedian.
ROUND 3
I take a breath and decide to branch out from my debate questions. Moment of truth.
“What’s your favorite joke?” I ask the room. It all goes dead silent.
After a beat, Blue leans forward. He proceeds to tell me a five-minute-long joke. By the end of this joke, which involves tractors, divorce, and getting pushed in a lake at scout camp, I’m convinced of his performance ability, stand-up or not. I can’t remember anything he said, but for five minutes, it was like I was right there with the tractors.
“Where do you weigh a whale?” Aria asks. “The whale weigh station!” We both crack up. “Like a railway station!” Oh no. This is, again, probably a pun. But it’s a tick in their ‘comedian’ column.
“What's the difference between a bus depot that's never been cleaned and a lobster that's just got a boob job?” asks Joseph, making me immediately regret asking him this question. “One's a crusty bus station and one's a busty crustacean.”
“Knock knock,” says Jay. When I ask who’s there, she continues, “The interrupting cow.” I ask interrupting cow who and she interrupts me with “mooooo!” Once again, I have regrets about ever asking this question.
As the debate draws to a close, I try to consider what I’ve learned. Blue gets the bottle opener as a reward for his five- minute-long joke. Still, there doesn’t end up being any clear winner. How do you measure how funny somebody is on a scale anyway? How can you tell how likely they are to get up out of nowhere at Fringe and joke their hearts out? The truth is, all of my friends absolutely have the potential to do stand- up comedy. And I have to be okay with that.
All names have been changed.