The Headliner: Reuben Solo
"[I]t wouldn't be fair just to say it’s standup, because there are also elements of sketch, and the standup I do is a bit out of left field sometimes."
When I asked Australia-based comedian Reuben Solo how he became interested in comedy, he was remiss there wasn’t any specific thing that made him funny. “Sadly, I don't have a very good story,” he told me. Solo studied film and television in uni — “sorry, college” — and found a love of writing comedic scripts. After graduating, though, he found that the industry he had studied was no longer the one he wanted to pursue. “I'd become disillusioned with the whole thing,” he said.
That’s when Solo decided to try standup — something he had been considering for a while at that point. The first year was full of sporadic sets, but he eventually decided to give it a real go — in 2020. “I did, like, a couple of months of that, and then the world shut down,” said Solo. But the pandemic caused him to shift online, like so many other comedians, and he began posting sketches. “I did that on a whim,” he said. “I don't know why I did that. Just sort of, oh, just make a sketch today.”
Solo is still posting sketches today, like Wire. and Disqualified. He’s also performing standup all over Australia (and soon the UK) on his Palindrome tour, which he’ll be taking to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this summer. I sat down (at the same time but also 12 hours behind) with Solo to talk about whether Australian comedy is a thing, creating a loyal fanbase online, and going for creativity walks. Enjoy!
How would you describe your comedy?
I find it very difficult to describe my comedy. There's no sort of—well, there are—but it's not like music, where there are a lot of genres in music. … Most music you play, you can sort of—you know, there are hundreds of genres you can sort of pick and choose from to describe it. Comedy’s not like that. So, I guess I would describe it as alternative standup. Yeah, it wouldn't be fair just to say it’s standup, because there are also elements of sketch, and the standup I do is a bit out of left field sometimes. But it also wouldn't be fair to describe it as sketch, because it's not full-blown sketch, either. So, that's the best I can do.
Was creating that kind of “alternative comedy,” in the sense that it was a mishmash of styles, something you set out to do intentionally, or did it come together as you began performing comedy?
It’s constantly developing. I'm still very new to the whole thing. I started doing standup, that was the first thing I ever did, so that was the world I went into. I didn't know much about sketch or other forms of comedy, so that's where it started. And then, I did a show last year in 2022 that was mostly standup. It was probably more, sort of, traditional standard than this year's show is; this year's show has more elements of sketch and weirder stuff. And next year's show — who knows? Who knows, there might be no standup at all. I don't know. So, I guess it's just sort of weaving as I find out more about the comedy world and I incorporate different stuff into the show.
You started out working in the film industry, and you once said that you felt like you were always good at writing scripts — and dialogue, specifically. Did that interest have any impact on you leaning more into scripted forms of comedy?
I never really considered myself much of a performer, but I like writing. And it is interesting, because … one of the things that fascinated me the most was the dialogue. I like to write little, sort of, witty dialogue, and I loved Aaron Sorkin. … In uni, I would write scripts. I really enjoyed doing that. But then, I guess I don't really do much of that anymore, as in, sort of, dialogue. The sketches you watch now, there's little dialogue to them. Although, what I will say is the dialogue that is in them, it's very specific, and I pour over the lines to get the timing right and all the connections of ideas to make sure everything's clear. So, everything's still very specific, or most stuff is very specific still. But it's less, like, funny dialogue lines, and it's more about the broader comedic ideas.
In, like, every podcast I listened to for research, you said that walking was a part of your creative process. Is that still a thing you do, and if so, why do you feel like it’s helpful/necessary to your process?
I don't do it as much anymore, but I'll come back to why. … I guess it just helps to be moving, and, yeah — I don't know why I like to walk. Usually, it's when I either don't have an idea or I have a few little ideas, but they're just very basic concepts, [and] I'm trying to work off them. … If I've gotten most of it written, and I'm trying to fine-tune it, I'm not walking for that. I'll usually sit down and write that out, but it's very broad thinking. But now, probably for the last few months, at least, I'm writing a lot more with my writing partner — someone I've hired that works for me. So, I don't do as much, sort of, solo walking anymore. We usually bat ideas back and forth with each other.
Speaking of having a writing partner, I’d love to hear more about what it’s like to work on comedy with another person, especially in the digital space where it’s basically impossible to do it all yourself — though people do try!
It's the same person that helps with all this stuff. And initially, he just came on to help shoot and edit … mainly for the YouTube stuff that I do, which is often the longer-form sketches, because they're very—often the shoots are a bit labor-intensive, and, like, I can't do them myself. Or I can, technically, but the product wouldn't be as good, and it's going to take, you know, many more hours to try and do it myself. So, I hired him. Then, he would edit stuff as well — or, help me edit. I always get final pass, because I'm a control freak.
Then, he started helping write the YouTube stuff, which, initially, it was just the YouTube stuff, because in my mind, the YouTube stuff is a bit less formulaic. … It's less specific — it can be sort of anything — so that was easy to take on a writing partner with. For a long time, I thought, with the short-form stuff I was doing, because it's so specific, it needs to be done by myself, because you can come up with concepts together, but once you start writing the premise or … once you start getting into the more of the details of it, you really try to come up with a twist. Like, you don't have anything in the sketch until you have the ending of it, and the ending is not easily something … you can brainstorm together; it's just something you have to sort of carry in your own head. However, I was kind of wrong, and you can do it with other people. So, eventually, he started helping with that, as well.
Those sketches also became probably less formulaic than they used to be. I don't think people would really notice, but they're a little bit less rigid in structure now, and that's because I’m writing them with someone else.
You’re the first Australian comedian I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing, so I’m sorry, but I have to ask about it! In the comedy world, there are so many locationally-formed types of humor, like American or British or even New Zealand comedy. Do you feel like the scene in Australia is unique enough to deserve its own label, or is it influenced by larger comic sensibilities?
I don't think about it. I don't think about the differences between cultures. I think there used to be a bigger difference, a bigger divide. And there probably [still] is, if you compare, you know, certain segments of comedy with each other across cultures, like sketch comedy over here versus sketch comedy over here or traditional standup on traditional standup. But I think, probably, mainly because of the internet, the world is so fractured now, and there's less of a monoculture, and, and therefore, there's less regional cultures, as well.
I think if you're deep enough into the comedy world, it's just sort of comedy. … I'm sure you could point to certain differences, but then you could also just be like, yeah, well, that's over there as well; you just have to look a bit deeper. So no, I don't really think of it like that.
Another thing you said that struck me was that it’s hard to find loyalty from fans on TikTok, which made me consider how difficult it is on, say, Instagram. How do you feel about having a loyal following versus having a wide following? Obviously, you’d ideally want both, but in an industry where different platforms engage fans differently, how do the two compare to you?
I suppose, at the end of the day, it's all good. Yeah, I don't know. I probably prefer to have a smaller loyal audience than a larger audience. …
On Instagram, there's more of a culture of connectivity with everyone, because … there are stories that you can respond to. It's sort of more acceptable to just message people; I get a lot of messages on Instagram. Whereas TikTok, it’s just you just scrolling through videos; there's no real way to connect with the creator. And you'll even notice this on, like, comments; a lot of the comments on TikTok will be more passive, will talk about the creator in the third person. Whereas on Instagram, … they'll often address the creator — same thing as on YouTube. …
The other thing with Instagram, of course, is the main feed. So, I post a video, it'll show up in the feed of a lot of people that follow me, whereas on TikTok, there's no guarantee of that at all, so you just end up seeing less of people you follow. So yeah, it's tricky to build a loyal following.
Considering you’re trying to create a following, regardless of what kind you’re hoping for or where you’re building it, have you ever found yourself feeling the need to play to the algorithm, or do you always just trust your own comedic sensibilities?
Pretty much the latter. I mean, I will take into consideration stuff, like, if I think of a sketch idea, but there's too much setup. For example, if there's 10 seconds of setup in a sketch, it's not going to do well, so I'll probably just discard that idea, because there still has to be a hook, especially on TikTok and on Instagram. To get people into YouTube, you can get away with a lot, because they click on the video, but on the other platforms, they just get to scroll if they're not interested immediately.
So, definitely stuff like that. But what else would I do to appease the algorithm? Not a lot, really. Not a lot.
What's a joke that you love to tell or a bit you love to do that never really lands or that lands like really inconsistently?
It's interesting the way you frame that question, because if a joke doesn't work, I stop doing it very fast. So there's nothing quite that fits that description, but … I can tell you— [Holds up a piece of paper] This is my setlist from this show, which I've just started performing. I'm five shows into the tour. So, I can tell you a little story about a bit that I did for the first two shows and a trial show and I dropped because it wasn't working. I thought it was one of the best parts of the show.
But so, the idea was, at the end of the show, or like one of the final bits of the show, I do a little spiel about how comedians don't like having their sets recorded, or they don't want things to get out, because they don't want things getting spoiled or taken out of context. And, you know, people try and ban phones and stuff that never really works. And so I'd go, “I've come up with a much neater solution,” and then I'd hold up an NDA, and then I'd get my tech to pass around NDAs — non-disclosure agreement — and pens to all the audience members. …
I couldn't obligate them to sign the NDA, because [they’ve] already seen the show, … [but] I will ask them to sign the NDA, which is illegal. Like, it technically is a legal document, because it was written by my sister, who's a lawyer, and you know, it's got the signatures on the bottom. So, technically, it's a real NDA. But obviously, I'm not going to sue anyone. I just think it's really funny to make the audience sign an NDA, and then, they can't legally talk about the show afterwards.
Every time I did it, they would sort of look at me like, “Is he really making us sign an NDA?” It just didn't come across as a joke enough, and who would think I was being serious? So, I had to drop it, which is fine in the end, because it was a lot of work to try and print the NDAs out for each show. We did it in, like, a 35-seater, initially, run in Adelaide, and even then, it was like hard to get the NDAs around. It was, like, cumbersome; it took a long time. And then, some of the shows, I'm doing like 100-seat venues. So, I'm like, this is not gonna work in that form, either. So we got rid of it.
It was probably for the best, but it was sad, because I really thought it was very funny.
I'm just imagining someone coming around, passing out the papers one by one. Like, that is very funny.
I guess the downfall of it was, the only funny part about it, really — I mean, there are a couple of funny lines I would deliver — but the only funny thing about it was the concept of it, which a lot of my show, actually this year, is sort of more high-concept ideas, where it's like, this concept is really funny, and you could do it a few different ways, but either the concept is funny, or it isn't. And I thought this concept was really funny, having the audience sign an NDA. Everyone else did not agree with me.
You can follow Solo on Instagram or TikTok to keep up with his future tour dates and latest sketches. You can also see Reuben performing across Australia and the U.K. — click here for more info!
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
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