Did I get the light, or can I keep going?
observational comedy is back, baby! Though I had some technical issues this week, I’m very excited to be going into a new year and can’t wait to see what it has in store for comedy. As always, thanks
Okay, So, We're Doing This?
Photo credit: Late Night with Seth Meyers/YouTube
I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we’re still in a pandemic. In fact, the U.S. — to speak locally — just hit the highest recorded number of covid hospitalizations since the “beginning” of the pandemic. The covid discussion hasn’t stopped since it began, but if you feel like you’ve been hearing more about it suddenly, you can thank the Omicron variant, which is significantly more contagious than any before it (though it’s reportedly milder in terms of sickness). In New York, the recent surge has caused massive lines for testing and cancellations of everything from the Rockettes’ Christmas Spectacular to standardized testing. The Grammy Awards, which were set to take place in LA, were even postponed due to the sudden surge in covid cases.
Right before Christmas, it seemed that almost everyone in the New York/Los Angeles comedy communities was testing positive for covid. Tweets were flying left and right about getting covid from comedians, and it seemed like any show that had happened in the weeks before all the hullabaloo — I’d say from December 1st to December 20th — announced that the hosts or part/all the line-up had themselves tested positive. For transparency, I recently had covid myself, and though there’s literally no way to know where I contracted it, I would venture a strong guess that I picked it up at a comedy show.
With that in mind, it wasn’t surprising to me when three late-night hosts announced that they had contracted covid. First, it was Jimmy Fallon, who posted on Instagram about testing positive over the holidays. Next was Seth Meyers, who tweeted about having to cancel a week’s worth of shows due to his condition. The most recent announcement came from James Corden, who posted on Instagram about getting Covid and the show consequentially moving off-air for a few days. This past Monday, when Late Night with Seth Meyers returned to the air, Meyers was notably not in the studio, instead filming from a nondescript room — presumably in his house, just as he had done from roughly April 2020 to September 2020. He seems to be the only late-night host to move back to an out-of-studio approach at the moment, which was surprising to me considering the omnipotence and severity of the current covid surge.
What’s been even more surprising to me is how the local comedy scenes in NYC/LA have been handling the new wave. At first, dozens of shows were canceled or postponed out of fear of becoming a spreader event or because comedians were currently quarantining themselves. The Comedy Bureau, which keeps a running list of comedy shows across the country and sends out daily updates, was firing on all cylinders thanks to the constant changes — which sometimes happened last minute.
But then, suddenly, shows began coming back. Shows postponed at the beginning of January were simply pushed back to a few weeks later. Canceled shows just picked up the next week as though nothing had happened the week before. New shows continued to be announced. I’m not here to preach about comics just trying to work in the midst of a pandemic that doesn’t seem to be getting any better. Comedy is a performance industry, and a sudden shut-down of in-person shows would mean a major setback to an industry that relies on people being physically present. However, I don’t think we should be surprised if we begin to see another major shut-down of comedy as we did in 2020/early 2021.
If you were to ask me, I would say that comedy should once again consider moving online. In 2020/2021, comics were forced to move their shows online; because of this, many even stopped performing for a period of time. There was a clear divide in the comedy community: You either thought online comedy was the only way to stay afloat, or you thought doing comedy online wouldn’t work and wasn’t worth it. But as another surge of covid takes over, it seems that so has the idea that moving online isn’t good for comedy. Rather than moving to alternative methods of performing, the prevailing stance seems instead to be the idea that we just have to push through — that if we have to deal with the pandemic (which, like, we do), it’s better to get caught in the doing-shows-then-canceling-then-doing-shows cycle than dealing with the pitfalls that come with digital comedy.
To be fair, there are a handful of those pitfalls. Doing comedy online often takes away the audience, which is imperative to comedy. It is, after all, an exchange; the comic tells a joke, and the audience’s reaction shapes their performances in the future. If you were lucky enough to have an audience, then maybe you couldn’t hear their laughs, or everyone was on their own delay, so laughs came at strange times. There were technical difficulties galore; comedians frequently couldn’t even get on screen because of them. Alternative methods, like comedy shows that took place in Google Docs or in the Animal Crossing game, significantly changed the genre in ways that many comics found to be a waste of time. Long story short, doing comedy online was hard — and many comedians don’t want to have to return to that space.
So where does that leave us? Well, doing shows in person, it seems. I did not write this piece to cast blame on comics. I’m also not here to insinuate that the way comedy seems to be moving forward is bad. And while I don’t necessarily agree with the avoidance of moving comedy online again, I understand why comedians are pushing to just keep going in person. The point of this piece is to call attention to an industry that’s receiving a big enough lack of resources from our government that the only way to get through is to keep going. Comics have tried fighting this on an individual level — again, online comedy — but sometimes the cons just truly outweigh the pros. For an industry like comedy, where the entire point is an in-person performance, the ongoing pandemic is a major roadblock. When shows are canceled, people don’t get paid. When shows are postponed, you lose audience members. At the very least, when shows are moved outside, people have to decide if it’s worth braving the weather.
Comics are simply trying to keep their profession alive, even if that means risking contracting covid. If you ask me, though, it’s worrisome; though many are looking at the current pandemic surge as not that bad since it produces milder symptoms, they’re ignoring the long-term damage it can cause — even if you’re vaccinated. Moving forward in the way that comics want requires systemic change, though, which doesn’t seem to be happening. In 2020, the UK voted to designate stand-up comedy as an art form in order to allow comedians to apply for and receive emergency funding, which allows them to feel comfortable with not performing during unsafe periods and which seems like a good start. But in the US, we instead gave money to comedy theaters, which sometimes meant comics themselves never saw any money.
Comedy is going to keep going in person, whether it’s the most responsible option or not. And while it’s not our job as individuals to ban together and help an entire industry through a pandemic, it seems like we have to be the first line of defense right now, because it’s not slowing down. We can push our government to consider more payouts, but I think we can both agree that won’t happen anytime soon. For now, if you value comedy as an art form, it’s in your best interest to help keep it going however you feel comfortable — especially since it could face a major shut-down at any moment. And if it does, hundreds of comedians will be forced back into, essentially, unemployment.
Even if you — like me — are not too pleased with how comedy is continuing in person, you shouldn’t turn your back on it. If you’re still comfortable attending shows in person, you should! They’re happening, and it doesn’t seem they’ll stop (pending another major shutdown of venues). I’d recommend, however, making sure you’re going to venues with restrictions in place — such as a vaccine and mask requirement — and consider keeping your mask on throughout the performance. Comedians, too, should be cognizant of the restrictions in place where they’re performing and try as much as they can to minimize the risk of infection for themselves and others.
There’s no real takeaway from this piece, other than understanding where the comedy industry is at the moment and why it’s acting as though not much is happening (I mean, everyone seems to be doing that anyway). The world is in a weird state, where nothing is really safe but nothing seems to be considered dangerous either. The best we can do is stop and evaluate how we’re personally affected and choose our actions based on that — something I hope comedians do as the industry continues to chug along in the midst of a raging pandemic.
Interview with a Comedian: Gianmarco Soresi
Photo credit: Mindy Tucker/@withreservation
When Gianmarco Soresi was a child, his dad took him to see a stand-up show at Dangerfield’s. But it wasn’t until he took a class at Caroline’s on Broadway that he began to fall in love with comedy. Though he was a homebody, Soresi quickly starting going to shows every night to hone his craft. He’s since become a major name in stand-up, headlining comedy clubs, performing on the Real Housewives of New York (like, for real), and winning the Laughing Devil Competition. He’s also the host of his own podcast, The Downside with Gianmarco Soresi, and his comedy special Shelf Life was a recommended special by NPR in 2020. I had the pleasure of chatting with Soresi about what he loves so much about performing, how his acting background plays a part in his comedy, and his super-dark jokes that just never seem to land.
How would you describe your comedy style?
It definitely feels like it’s evolving, and I’m still kind of figuring out what it is. But, I think it is highly joke-dense — one-liners and stories that are very first-person egocentric, diving into why we’re all bad at our core. It is very personal, very much through my own eyes and about myself in the world. If you were to look at David Sedaris — if there’s different kinds of authors, and if you were to use that same framework for comics, [that’s me]. I am a first-person narrator, author, and stand-up comic.
I’m curious what it is about one-liners that appeal to you so much.
Personally, I like — when I’m watching stand-up and listening to stand-up, I think because I see so much constantly — I like one-liners because it just appeals to my sense of formula. If I listen to a good Anthony Jeselnik line, I’m just like, oh, it’s not predictable. You built up the tension perfectly. But that being said, Birbiglia [editor’s note: Mike Birbiglia is known for his comedic storytelling] is astounding. I feel like most comedians move towards storytelling, partially because it takes a long time to build an hour out of one-liners. I’m trying to move in a direction where I’m building more chunks than just one-liners, but I admire and love the simplicity and beauty — [it’s] how I imagine a mathematician looks at an equation, but for dumb people.
You have a very rich background in acting, from studying musical theater to even now acting in a sketch group. Do you feel like that background ever informs your stand-up comedy at all?
I definitely think, in the beginning, I had the stage presence but not the jokes. So, for a long time, it was just jokes. I did roast battles. For me, it’s kind of where I found where my weakness was. I became very obsessed about [writing] everything down. I fine-tune. In the beginning, it was like I could whip out the theatrics when it was called for. Sometimes, if you’re doing a shitty show for 10 people, doing anything theatrical can feel kind of weird. Now, I feel like I’m doing more shows where those skills are finally coming into play. My girlfriend, who’s a comedy manager, sometimes I’ll ask her for feedback, and she’ll have more acting notes than joke-writing notes, and suddenly it’s like, oh, finally, I can marry these two skills together.
It really took a number of years when I didn’t want to rely on the theatricality. I was nervous about being thought of as a hack by my peers. Now, I feel more in a position where I’m like, okay, let me use these skills. … Talking about one-liners, I feel like my acting skills let me misdirect even more strongly, where I can really essentially lie to the audience but really make them feel like I’m in the moment of a discovery, or they think I’m going one way not just because of the words I’m saying but [because of] the intention. I think that that’s where it comes in; there’s a lot of ways to play with that. In storytelling, too. I’ve kind of shied away from doing one-man show type stuff, but I think if I ever do, all those skills will definitely come into play and be of use.
I feel paranoia always of just making sure the joke is still just as good [alone], that I could read it deadpan, and it would still work.
You’ve done a lot across the comedy performance spectrum, including stand-up, sketch, and straight-up acting. Do you have a favorite comedy type to perform?
I mean, I’m in love with stand-up so, so deeply; stand-up is so all-consuming. I struggle working on other stuff sometimes because I could just write stand-up. Sometimes my girlfriend will be like, oh, did you get your writing done today? And I’m like, done? What do you mean? I could do it all day. I love acting and sketch; it’s just been harder and harder to do.
I’m just addicted to that audience. … I just love being in front of people and the feedback of it and getting to do it again and do it better. That’s what I’m kind of addicted to.
Have you always been addicted to it, even before beginning your stand-up career?
I always loved performing. I just think I understood later [that] my need for feedback was so intense. I mean, it’s a needy thing. But I’m someone that if I wrote a kid’s book once or I wrote a play, I would constantly want to send it to someone and say, give me feedback on this. I struggle. Some people I think are very good — they’re able to internally see outside themselves — but something in me needs that response.
Once I figured that out, I just realized, oh, this is where I’m happiest. … It takes so long to kind of embrace what you are, that’s what I’ve kind of learned. Where is it you thrive? Where are you able to work hours and hours and still find enjoyment? For me, it’s the joke-writing process, because you can witness the results every night.
I read in an article you wrote that you keep two documents on your computer: one for quick joke brainstorming and one for finished jokes that you’ve taken the time to go back over and finish. How important would you say editing is to joke-writing?
Oh, fuck, it’s huge. It’s so big. I basically have a document. … I right now kind of have one section, which is just super vague thoughts. When I get stoned, it fills up this section. … I write it down, and I look and only 5% of them are decent. But, I would go back to that eventually, and I would try to see if I could write up that bit. … It might not be funny, and I might throw it away, but the next step on it usually would be [feedback]. I have a friend who will listen to me just say jokes out loud, and she has a very low bar for laughing. If she laughs, I go like, maybe something’s in there, and if she doesn’t, I change it. I just throw it away. …
There’s the totally new thoughts, which I work out before I bring them to the stage. There’s [a document] I’ve called The Laboratory, and that’s like jokes where I have built it up a little — maybe it worked at a mic, maybe it worked on a shitty show. I’m like, okay, these are the ones I could slip into a good set. Then, there’s my finished jokes — and I say finished, but as I get better at finding weak points, or I do a show that’s kind of tough and one thing doesn’t work, I go, ah, that’s weak, and I try to elevate that. … Every joke is a baby; at least with my jokes, I’m pro-life. Everything else? No. …
I think some of the comedians that we consider quite legendary are prolific in the amount of stuff that they come up with, and that’s the constant struggle. Are you fine-tuning? Is it amazing? Are you doing the same shit for too long? It’s so much about the creation and then the fine-tuning.
Have you always approached comedy so systematically? If so, where do you think that comes from?
I think I’ve always been like that, and I think it’s very much informed by being an actor first. I worked with scripts — that was my whole life for a decade. I did scriptwriting, and I wrote things down, and I looked at things. I was especially in the world of acting where people were super into script analysis, so I would stare at text all the time and come up with my motivations and objectives and obstacles. I think that definitely shaped the way I do [comedy] now. Some comics don’t write down anything. … I don’t know how they keep track of it; I would go nuts. I’m definitely known for having my laptop out, and I don’t think a lot of comics do that. I think some comics probably are more into kind of hiding the magic. I have no desire to hide the work.
Here’s a fun one for you: What’s a joke you love that never seems to land or that lands really inconsistently?
This came from I was talking to a friend — a comedian friend. My girlfriend, her grandma’s really sick, and I’m really worried it’s going to bring us closer together — and then I build from there. It was like: [her grandma says], oh, is this your boyfriend? I was like, pull the plug, grandma. Then I built it up until going to the funeral. She was being buried in Florida, and it’s like, well, if we’re going to take the time off, we might as well bury her in the Bahamas. Let’s scatter her ashes at the Grand Canyon because it’s a beautiful metaphor — and I’m dying to go.
I have another bit. I had a comedian friend who died from covid in late 2020. … I’m still figuring out this one. In my mind, it’s done, but it doesn’t always work. The one part is like, the way I found out he died [was] I gave $100 to his GoFundMe, and then one day, I went to his GoFundMe page, and the GoFundMe for hospital expenses had changed to a GoFundMe for funeral expenses. I was so upset, because that’s not what I ordered. That’s like, you buy a diaper pail for your friend’s baby shower, and they use it to store the miscarriage’s ashes. It took a long time to figure out that metaphor; but it — I wouldn’t say bombed — it just bums the audience out. Yeah, I go from someone dying to someone losing their baby in one thing.
You also host The Downside with Gianmarco Soresi, a podcast where you essentially encourage complaining. What is it that drew you to running a podcast?
I think the podcast always lets me loosen up in terms of the writing and creativity process. I’m talking in a way where I definitely have gotten jokes from the interviews and improvising, and it’s fun. It’s just a lot of fun. As a comic, you have a lot of roles, and being funny in interviews is important — especially nowadays. I think there was a time where some comics still could get away with not having this be a part of their life, but being funny casually is a great skill. …
The amount of work I put into this fucking shit is so insane, but it feels worth it to me because it’s like a writing session. It’s a brainstorming session. Talking to people, it just stimulates my creative juices. That’s how I try to view the podcast, like, just try to improvise here and take swings. That’s why I like it, and I hope to do a certain amount of it. There’s plenty of comics who [have] their stand-up start to feel like a podcast on stage, and it’s like, well, where are the punch lines? I want to make sure I don’t do that. I want to use the podcast to creatively grow.
Could you talk a bit more about why, nowadays, it’s important for comedians to be funny all the time — in every aspect of life?
I just think, with as fractured as the market is, people want to have a somewhat parasocial relationship with their artists. …
[For comics,] there’s just a degree of “can I interact in the world and make things that are funny off whatever circumstances are happening around me?”… In a world where I also need to have a lot of content, how do I have it be in line with what I enjoy? You can look at social media, and you can look at podcasts as like, fuck, this is the worst; I hate this. Or, you can try to embrace it and use it to fine-tune your art.
I do think it can be poisonous. I do think the necessity for constant content can water all your stuff down, and I worry about that. But at least right now, it’s like, let me try to make it as artistically advantageous as possible.
You can hear Soresi on his podcast, The Downside with Gianmarco Soresi, on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Stitcher. Check out Soresi’s Instagram or Twitter for more information about his upcoming appearances (and just some good, funny content).
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Saturday Night
Due to an unfortunate technical issue on my end, there won’t be an edition of the column this week. However, if you’d still like to use some brainpower to think about SNL, I’d recommend rewatching the great Betty White’s episode. Here are some of my favorite bits. Rest in peace to a comedy legend.
Betty White Monologue: Facebook - Saturday Night Live
Scared Straight: Bullying with Betty White - SNL
MacGruber: Grandma - SNL
The Comedy Showcase
Here are some things I enjoyed that I hope you will, too!
1. The Standups released its third season on Netflix, featuring names you may know (Melissa Villaseñor, anyone?) and some you may not — all of which deliver amazing half-hours of comedy that you should definitely check out.
2. Bob Saget, In His Own Words on Piffany