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When I walked into the Cultch, the greeter immediately warned that the show would be between 100-120 minutes without intermission. I beelined for the bathroom, then to the bar. Not only do they serve beer (and wine) at the Cultch, but they’ll even let you bring it to your seat inside the theatre. This evening was off to a great start.

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Photo by Sagal Kahin

When the lights dimmed we made our way to our seats and were pleasantly surprised at both the set up and the size. There wasn’t a bad seat in the house. When Ronnie Burkett emerged, dressed in all black, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. It seemed everybody knew and loved Burkett already. In his introduction he talked of his past work, which again, the audience seemed to know all about, then explained his objective with the Daisy Theatre. He wanted to create a puppet show for adults that was fun; a departure from his past work, which was decidedly darker.

As far as marionettes go, I’ve only ever seen Pinocchio and Gepetto at work. This was a change of pace for me. The opening number starred Dolly Wiggler, who would dance to music and peel off her clothing one item at a time, burlesque style. I didn’t know marionettes could move like that. I was laughing and in shock, looking over to my friend to confirm that she was seeing this. Her rhythm, as created by Burkett’s hands, which moved quickly without distracting him from the song he was singing, was incredible.

Funny for the most part and provocative throughout, Burkett had the audience laughing and cheering from start to finish. I laughed a lot, but I also cringed some. Especially when Franz was on stage talking too much–at least for my liking–of inviting starry-eyed audience members backstage and humping them from behind while they were distracted by smaller cuter puppet named Schnitzel.

From the applause, to the coos, to the shouts of encouragement everybody seemed to know from the moment the show began that this was a participatory event. The length, I would learn, varies because Burkett invites the audience to hoot, holler and applaud as a way of voting for which puppets or songs they would like to see performed. This was something I quite liked. Quickly it became clear that many of the audience members had seen this play before and were keen to see some of their favourite puppets return to the stage. At one point the lights came on and he looked into the audience for a volunteer. Burkett would settle on a man named Gavin, who would learn how to make a puppet play the piano while bobbing his head to the music–“he” being the puppet. Gavin would also go on to sing on cue and even take off his shirt.

The Daisy Theatre_publicity image
It was a while before I was able to find the connection between these puppets, all telling stories or singing songs that had nothing to do with the others. In a way, it felt disjointed. I’d been in a gambling mood when I decided to see the show without first doing any research about Burkett or the Daisy Theatre, which I would realize part way through was a variety show. Even still, I struggled to make sense of why some of them were performers, while others were just there to tell stories.

In addition to Gavin, the highlights for me were without a doubt Jesus (yes, Christ) and Edna Rural. Neither sang or danced, but rather they talked to the audience. Jesus, who may actually have been performing stand-up routine, was dreading the holidays with his parents Mary and Joseph. His birthday is a tense time and his parents don’t approve of his girlfriend, he explained while weaving clever jokes, with even more clever biblical references into his story. Edna, a widow from a small town in Alberta, is an expert baker, and talks endlessly because she fears that if she’s quiet somebody will give her bad news. Everybody had a good laugh when Edna told the story of her pie crust made with dill, which of course was referred to as dill dough (read: dildo). I’m not a big fan of sex jokes. They’re popular and funny making me a minority on this one, but I can’t help but find them boring and a little too easy.

While I thought two hours was a little too long and the sexual references a little too frequent, I quite liked this play. It was smart, topical and funny. It was also sad, heartwarming and relatable. Burkett is quick-witted and truly a master of his craft. He brought each puppet to life with his voice and movement and that alone makes for twenty dollars well spent. The fact that no two nights are the same, has me curious as to who will grace the stage of the Daisy Theatre in the nights to come. In this regard, it makes sense that this is a show people come back for.

 

The Daisy Theatre runs until December 20 at The Cultch (1895 Venables Street). Tickets are available by phone at 604.251.1363, or online at thecultch.com.

Imagine this: you’re a Vancouver comic—and dang! You’re pretty good. In fact, you were recently a Yuk Yuks fast tracker (a program where Vancouver’s finest up and comers are hand-picked to work consistent nights, among other perks). Night after night you’re getting out around town and killing it.

 

The catch? You also get up in the morning and go to your nine to five job. What I’m saying is, in this particular scenario, you may be funny but you put your pants on one leg at time like anyone else and you know it. In real life, this mix of talent and humility combines to make one Stuart Jones.

 

This month I got to chat with Stuart, a real life nice guy (please refer to his joke about why this may mean you’re not sleeping with him) who loves food but sensibly draws the line at dog. That part actually didn’t make the interview cut, but trust me, it’s true.

 

Photo Courtesy of Stuart Jones
Photo Courtesy of Stuart Jones

Stuart Jones: I’m just gonna’ grab a coffee.

Kristine Sostar McLellan: You drink coffee this late?

SJ: Well, not regularly. [Dramatic pause] But on a Friday?

KSM: Cut loose!

SJ: I’ve been pretty wiped. Waking up early and then being on shows at night.

KSM: How often a week do you go up?

SJ: Two or three times a week. On a regular week. On a good week, four or five.

KSM: And you’ve been doing this with a full time job for how long?

SJ: Almost a year.

KSM: Do you remember your first set?

SJ: I was talked into it by some people at work. This was in Kelowna and a colleague was going to try. I thought, I’ll give it a shot. I had a few topics written down, but some people are just natural performers.

KSM: Are you?

SJ: Half and half. I think of all these people who are way more charismatic on stage.

KSM: Your material is probably funnier the way you deliver it.

SJ: There’s a way to perform it… But I’ve also found that it seems like a cheap trick if you put too much energy into it. Because a lot of the time it seems funnier if someone is screaming.

KSM: Totally. Okay, back to the beginning. Was this something you thought about before?

SJ: Sort of. I had a few premises, but it was pretty nerve-wracking the first time. I had six or seven people there for support, and the other comics were supportive.

KSM: I think that comics are generally supportive to first timers here in Vancouver, too.

SJ: Depends on your material.

KSM: How?

SJ: Well, there’s quite a few newbies and all their jokes are just shock. It’s like, this is what you find funny? Can’t you find humour in something else? If someone’s like that, or extremely arrogant, they aren’t going to get much support.

KSM: How soon did you do it again?

SJ: The week after. It was a cool show hosted and run by Tim Nutt who’s an awesome comedian in Kelowna. I remember watching him on the Comedy Network in middle school, so it was really cool that he was there. And he’s got a great laugh. If you can make him laugh, it’s awesome.

KSM: Who are your other favourites?

SJ: I like Doug Stanhope. Bill Burr. I like Brian Regan. He’s like as far as you get here, and Stanhope’s way over there [motions a spectrum]. Regan is totally squeaky clean. That’s his great appeal.

KSM: What do you think you are?

SJ: I never found dirty stuff to be too funny.

KSM: Do you ever enjoy that kind of comedy?

SJ: It has to be clever. A lot of comics have great admiration for someone who can be so funny, and be completely clean.

KSM: There’s an interesting fixation on that. Like how Jerry Seinfeld feels he’s let himself down if he swears because there was another, better solution. But sometimes it just feels good, and it’s funny, and whatever! [Laughs] So what if audiences laugh when you yell or swear? What’s so wrong with that?

SJ: Well that’s the argument. Your goal is to make people laugh.

KSM: I think that anything, if it’s funny, is kind of worth it.

SJ: My friend Amy has this great bit. Both of her parents are clowns, so she’s got this bit about the first time her parents had a safe sex talk to her. It ends with her pulling out a balloon animal balloon and going, ‘so they gave me one of these and said to be safe. I had some fucked up expectations.’ She thought it was kind of cheap to use a prop, but I think it was necessary for the joke. It’s not cheap.

KSM: It’s funny because you’re supposed to be fearless and able to tackle anything. Then there are these weird, arbitrary lines about what is and isn’t okay. Is it more about worrying what other comics think?

SJ: I don’t know. You don’t want to deface the profession of comedian.

KSM: Yes.

SJ: If you’ve been on stage ten times and you’re doing just this horrible stuff. [mocking voice] Oh freedom of speech! Don’t call yourself a comedian. It’s the same reason I can’t go to a music open mic, strum a guitar not knowing what I’m playing, then smash it on the stage after and be like, I’m basically The Who.

KSM: Tell me about your worst show.

SJ: Hmmm. I have a temper.

KSM: Do you? I didn’t know that!

SJ: I’ve gotten very angry on stage before.

KSM: Tell me about that reaction.

SJ: I can tell you what my worst heckle was. It wasn’t even like a true heckle.

KSM: But it rattled you.

SJ: It was a fundraiser in Kelowna. I was doing a joke and a woman in the front row turns to her friend and goes, so am I driving you home? Like, they’re already planning how they can get out of there. It was, ohhhhh, awful.

KSM: I was about to say I love that… [Laughs] But I’m sorry that happened.

SJ: No, it’s funny in retrospect.

KSM: It’s funny because it’s totally different things than people expect that leave you feel feeling gutted.

SJ: Other heckles, like, you suck! They’re like, whatever. Or, you’re not funny! It’s like, well, some people think I am. So there.

KSM: What’s the best way that you’ve dealt with it?

SJ: One time I asked this person who making a lot of noise if they were a smoker and they said yes. So I went, well, why don’t you go for a smoke?

KSM: That’s good! Most people don’t realize that heckling isn’t usually insults. It’s mostly people trying to be helpful. Like, I love that too! And you’re like, shhhhhh, you ruined my punchline.

SJ: And sometimes there are jokes where the entire premise, entire bits, can be thwarted by a quick, simple fact. The whole premise of the joke is wrong to begin with. And then I can’t enjoy the rest of the joke because it’s based on this false premise.

KSM: So you overthink things.

SJ: I find continuity errors.

KSM: But when it’s going fast, the audience doesn’t care. People seem to have an inherent interest in comedy. Actually, the question that I get asked most often is why I do it. What do you say to that?

SJ: I say it’s fun. It’s awesome. It’s a good creative outlet. You have to be creative somehow.

KSM: So what’s your end game?

SJ: I mean, I’m kind of a realistic person.

KSM: I can believe that…

SJ: Yeah. [Laughs] I don’t expect myself to get super famous. That’d be great, but, at this point I would just I would like to be able to live comfortably in Vancouver.

KSM: Off comedy?

SJ: I mean, if I could, and not be broke all the time. I just started a TFSA. [Laughs] I’m trying to play it smart. As a realistic goal, I would like to be able to keep my job and just do shows around BC. Get to Just For Laughs. That would be great.

KSM: I think that’s more than realistic. You will do that. So what, if anything, is off limits in comedy for you?

SJ: I don’t think anything is off limits. But I do think there has to be a joke, or something clever, or a point about it. It just has to be clever. Cause, if you’re doing something that is very edgy or controversial and you’re not making a good point, then you just look dumb.

KSM: I hear two things. It has to be funny and it has to make a good point.

SJ: Ideally. But that’s just my sense of humour. That’s just what I find funny. Some sort of opinion.

KSM: And continuity.

SJ: Yeah.

KSM: Okay, what’s one thing that you think people don’t know about standup.

SJ: I don’t want to say that it’s more rehearsed than people think, but to some people it looks like they’re making it up on the spot.

KSM: If you’re good,  yeah, it looks like that. And what’s one thing that people don’t know about you.

SJ: I’m not a very interesting person. Hmmm, let’s see. I could list off a bunch of things. I’ve got really bad eyesight. I could burn things with my glasses. They’re like magnifying glasses. I’m a nerd, most people know that…

KSM: Something we don’t know, please.

SJ: I play magic cards. And I love pizza. Well, everyone knows that.

 

If you liked Stuart Jones as much as he loves pizza, you can catch him at Yuk Yuks where he will be advancing to the second round of the Yuk Yuk’s Comedy Competition in August.

You’re not the first to complain that Vancouver is no fun. You don’t like stretch pants. You don’t like gluten-free liars. You don’t like little dogs (you’re a sicko). That said, it’s true, there are some limitations to our fair city. We can’t drink outside. And we can’t bring dogs to the pub. You’re thinking of London, England. Sorry, but I’ve never seen a British comedy that I “got.”

Yet, every night of the week in Vancouver there is a room full of amazing comics baring their hilarious souls for you. Bet you didn’t know that. Every single night, all over the city.

You may not have known it before, but Vancouver is teeming with talented comedians you are going to wish you swiped right for once they get famous. And just like when you find out your cousin’s boyfriend’s brother’s friend does comedy, we’re going to ask them why they do what they do.

This month I sit down with comic Mark Hughes, and we talk about getting on stage for the first time, and the world of dark and dirty niche comedy.

Photo by R.D. Cane
Photo by R.D. Cane

Kristine Sostar McLellan: What’s the first thing people ask you when they find out you’re a comic?

Mark Hughes: Oh, where do you perform? And I go, all over the place. Oh really? Where? Have you ever been to that one on Burrard, Yuk Yuks? Then I go, that’s actually not Yuk Yuks. So I just say, you name it, I’ve done it.

KSM: There is that much comedy in Vancouver.

MH: Yeah, there’s dozens of shows a week. We have tons of shows, tons of comedy, but it’s like, the audience doesn’t know. I think they would come if they knew.

KSM: What I get asked most is why I do it.

MH: Why not? It’s fun. I started doing comedy a little over two years ago. I had been told for years that I should do it, because I used to write jokes on Facebook. One day someone said that I need a creative outlet, and I went, oh, okay. I think they meant pottery or oil painting or something like that.

KSM: And how did you start?

MH: Let’s take a couple steps back. I saw a comedian in 2012 named Jason Rouse do comedy… Keep in mind, I wasn’t like, a comedy guy. Unlike most comedians, who know all this comedians, I only knew the big names. That’s about it.

It was the first show I had ever been to and he did a bunch of comedy that I felt was really funny, it’s sort of offensive… I didn’t think you could do comedy like that. I thought it was too offensive and no one would… Even though I thought it was funny I didn’t know enough people would.

KSM: So you didn’t know there was niche comedy?

MH: Exactly. And this was at the Rio. Each of us paid ten bucks to be here. That thought just simmered. And the next year I tried standup.

KSM: That is a different story from most, who tend to grow up idolizing comics.

MH: It just had never been on my radar, I hadn’t been exposed to it. It’s funny… a lot of people I know, and noticed since I started doing comedy, have only seen the “big ones” too. Most people I know have never been to a comedy show. But I do think comedy is on an uprise. I think because of Netflix it will make a resurgence. More people will start trying it too.

KSM: So tell me about your first experience.

MH: I took a class, that’s how I did it. The classes are somewhat controversial. I’m glad I did it because it gave me… I paid $200 to get on stage. If I didn’t do that, I never would have gotten up. The class at least taught me, yeah, you gotta keep doing it, move the mic stand out of the way. I had a good time, I thought, I wanna keep on doing this.

KSM: And you’ve continued for more than two years… So I know you’ve had a bad experience by now. What was one of your worst?

MH: The most uncomfortable set I ever had was when, just as the MC was introducing me, half the room got up to smoke. Nothing to do with me, they just needed to smoke. The dynamic was just gone. And, I do the material and some of it’s a big edgy and there’s no annonymity in the audience, it feels like, like people aren’t allowed to laugh at it.

A girl even said to me “hey! That’s not funny” – and not in a bantery way. It was like, ugggggh. [motions a knife in the heart] I felt it in my soul. I wasn’t skilled enough to deal with that yet.

KSM: And now? How do you deal with hecklers now?

MH: I think I’m just more confident, so I’m better able to deal with it now. If shit like that comes up I can get into it with people. I’m not as scared about it.

KSM: Your comedy touches on a lot of personal stuff, but you really seem comfortable in your own skin and have a strong identity. Do you think that helps?

MH: Considering the way my life has been, it’s always weird to hear something like that. But it resonates with part of me, too. I think comics can talk about whatever they want as long as its funny.

Where I’m a bit different from maybe some of the comics we know is I’ve had a personal experience with every single dark subject I talk about. Friends dying of aids. Sexual abuse. Prostitution. Drug abuse. Overdose. Addiction. Kids being apprehended. My whole life for a long time was all that stuff.

KSM: So on the topic of dark comedy, let’s talk about the show you produce.

MH: I do a show called Comedy Shocker at the Rickshaw. It’s a dark and dirty comedy show, the only recurring one in Vancouver. On July 4th the headliner is Kathleen McGee. We have a lot of other people on it, too.

KSM: What drove you to create a show like this?

MH: My friend Jason [Kryska] and I started it because we got tired of hearing from people “oooooh, you can’t say that. You can’t say that. People don’t find that funny.” I know that there are people who find this funny.   I wanted to make a show that is a safe zone for this kind of humor. No one is walking in, and not knowing what it is. If you’re someone who gets offended by x-y-z, then… We want everyone to have a good time… It really is like, a free speech room and if you don’t like it, then please don’t come.

KSM: You’d really rather not sell the ticket?

MH: I don’t want people who might get offended there, because no one is having fun then.

 

So, if you’re the kind of person who can handle it, don’t miss The Comedy Shocker Presents: Downward Spiral at the Rickshaw Theatre.

Do you remember being a sweaty kid, sitting around your basement with other sweaty kids watching WWF (Now WWE), trying out sleeper holds on each other until your parents forced you all home? No? Doesn’t matter. That nostalgia will hit you like an elbow drop to the gut when you attend Ring-A-Ding-Dong-Dandy. Comics Graham Clark and Ryan Beil host Ring-A-Ding-Dong-Dandy at the Little Mountain Gallery, just off of Main Street: a show that can only be described as a couple of grown-up kids joking over the weirdest wrestling clips pulled from the internet. After attending a few of these nights, Sad Mag caught up with the hosts to find out more about the event.

Ring A Ding Dong Dandy
Photo by Graham Clark

Sad Mag: If someone was to attend Ring-A-Ding-Dong-Dandy, what could they expect from the evening?

Ryan Beil: A collection of dynamite wrestling clips (curated by Graham Clark) projected on the medium screen with comedic comments sprinkled throughout.

Graham Clark: You can expect to laugh, first and foremost. You can also expect to learn at least one thing about wrestling. It’s Ryan and I providing a running commentary over classic wrestling clips. It’s a gas.

SM: When and why did you two start up this event?

RB: I don’t remember when but I remember why: because it made so much sense.

GC: We started the show a few years ago because both Ryan and I love wrestling. I kind of moved away from watching wrestling, and then when I started again, I realized how much I missed it. Also, after meeting some wrestlers, what stood out to me was how much the wrestling mirrored the comedy world: tough road gigs, little pay, and filled with people who can’t think of a better way to spend their time. The one difference is that these wrestlers live the road life but still have to be in shape. It’s insanity.

SM: Who is your favourite pro wrestler?

RB: Ultimate Warrior cause he’s the Ultimate. RIP.

GC: Oh man, this is a real Sophie’s choice. Hulk Hogan and Bret Hart brought me to wrestling, so they will always have a special place in my heart. As far as gimmicks go, Ravishing Rick Rude was my favourite. He would kiss a special lady he selected from the audience and then she would pass out. He also wore tights with his own face on them. As far as the best when it came to promos, I love me some Jake the Snake.

SM: In a wrestling match against each other, who would win?

RB: Graham. Cause he’d tickle. And he’s stronger.

GC: I would, because I would cheat. I would blind the ref then I would cheat.

 

Ring-A-Ding-Dong-Dandy is coming up on Wednesday, May 13, 8:30pm at Little Mountain Gallery (195 East 26th Ave). You can follow @_LittleMountain on Twitter to keep up with their events. Or you can catch Graham Clark at the Laugh Gallery, every Monday at Havana’s Theatre on Commercial Drive.

The 2011 Canadian Federal Election Leaders Debate was by no means scintillating television. Jack Layton sprayed zingers, Michael Ignatieff made strained attempts at showing off his erudition, and Stephen Harper, for some reason I couldn’t figure out, adopted the manner of a particularly patient kindergarten teacher, speaking very slowly and avoiding any words that were liable to trouble an undecided Canadian voter, such as “climate change,” “Coast Guard closures,” or “oil spill.” He sopped up the other leaders’ barbs with a wide and creepy smile. I remember thinking it was impossible he had so little to say about, well, anything. You shouldn’t be able to win a debate while revealing nothing of your character, personality, or even basic opinions, right? Harper went on to win his first majority Government, of course. And everything in Canada has been fantastic ever since.

The uproarious recent comedy Proud, written by Michael Healey and playing at Strathcona’s Firehall Arts Centre until April 25, reimagines the Prime Minister who (as a particularly inspired piece of invective has it) seems like “a bag of mashed potatoes in a suit.” Set in an even more dystopic Canada than the one we currently inhabit, the Conservatives extend their landslide to Quebec, winning ridings with placeholder candidates who entered the race thinking they had no chance of winning. The play opens with the Prime Minister of Canada (Andrew Wheeler) directly addressing the audience while congratulating all his rookie MPs and lecturing them about discipline, just so the audience could discover for themselves what it feels like to be condescended to by Harper in person. After the opening monologue, the PM sits with his aide (Craig Erickson, amusing in twinkling sycophancy) and plans out Parliament seating arrangements—namely, how to get Conservative MPs who had wronged him in the past out of his line of eyesight. Into this den of propriety walks Jisabella Lyth (Emmelia Gordon), a newly minted young Quebec MP, wondering whether anyone could lend her a condom so that she can get it on with Evan Solomon (not a cameo performance, sadly). In the character of Lyth, Proud locates the perfect foil for our Prime Minister: a normal human woman.

Lyth becomes the PM’s ally, sometimes adversary, and sharp debating partner. She is a single mother and bar manager with no personal or emotional connection to politics. As she takes part in the PM’s scheme to distract the public from his true goals by tabling a no-hope anti-abortion bill (she is pro-choice and mentions how misleading the term “pro-life” is), she realizes that politics can be great fun if you are willing to abandon any real conviction. Healey’s script is wise and cynical about how people form their beliefs, positing that citizens just want to rant about what they oppose and find parties that hate the same things they do. The dialogue is consistently hilarious (characters tell each other to “pretend sex is like the United Nations: meaningless”), knowing, and chock full of quality CanCon jokes. I loved Lyth’s natural way with profanity, telling the Prime Minister “I’m gonna be fucked for names for a while,” though the script may over-rely on Stephen Harper dropping F-bombs.

Proud couldn’t work without fully committed lead performances, and both are fantastic. Emmelia Gordon is a force of fucking nature (I think that’s what her character would say), getting maximum laughs from each line reading. She has excellent timing with the difficult dialogue and her glee in achieving power is infectious. Andrew Wheeler’s Harper impression is uncanny, but the much more challenging task he accomplishes is to humanize the Prime Minister. He moves past the officious automaton of the opening scenes and reveals a man whose biggest problem is that he can’t let the public see his large vision for Canada. He is caring, pragmatic, and (horribly, horribly) sexy. I will never see Stephen Harper’s cardigan in the same way after having seen it ripped off in passion, no matter how much I may want to.

The play’s tone shifts between battle of ideas and sex farce, sometimes unsuccessfully, and I found the ending, which gestures at the next generation of Canadian politicians, to be incoherent. The script’s highlight is a bravura monologue in which the PM lists all the many things he only pretends to care about (Israel, the long gun registry, arts funding), naming and slaying every sacred cow of Canadian outrage from either side of the House of Commons. The PM only pursues these side issues so that he can give Canada “an appropriately-sized government,” an ideally mundane dream. Proud‘s conspiracy theory is that the people who are in power are secretly plotting to make the country much better, that when you get to know the man behind the curtain, he’s actually really swell.

It’s very comforting to think that our rulers only want what’s best for us, but (in my opinion and experience) it’s not true. So if you only leave your house once this year, for God and country’s sake, please use that trip to vote in 2015’s Federal Election (in October, unless chicanery occurs). But if you do happen to venture out more than once, go see Proud. You’ll have a fun time.

 

Proud will be playing at the Firehall Arts Centre April 7 – 25, 2015.
Info and tickets found here.

game-genies
Game Genies getting real

I’m painfully on time for everything, so I arrive at Yuk Yuks for Yo! Vancity Laughs Vol.9  with a friend at 7pm sharp. Which is great, except it turns out that it doesn’t actually start until 8pm. So we grab a seat and chat as we watch the night’s comics filter in.

 

Two of the comics, who turn out to be the show’s MCs (and who will later transform into their glib hip hop alter egos, Game Genies, complete with literal money bags, a Tupac mask, and a comically large watch that I could have used earlier…) come over and introduce themselves.

Gracious and welcoming, they joke that they want to say hello because, in a minute, we’re going to think they’re “really ignorant.”

 

And in a minute the show does start, but they don’t start it – because no proper hip hop show starts without a hype man. As I learn the minute the show starts. Then, once we’re all hyped up, Game Genies take the stage.

 

“If you’re here tonight this means you must love comedy, and you must love hip hop,” they exclaim. “Who is your all time favourite hip hop artist?”

 

With their pick of people who look like they hail from Kitsilano, they choose a young woman who doesn’t manage to dart her eyes away fast enough.

 

“I like musicals?” She says, in the kind of adorable upspeak that gets the other guy the job.

 

But the hosts are charming and adept at loosening up a crowd, and the diverse pool of talented comics doesn’t hurt, either: Devon Alexander, Kwasi Thomas, Jonny Paul (who is never more charming than in those improvisational moments brought on by “helpful” audience members), Brendan Bourque, and headliner, Patrick Maliha (who does one dope urban impression that is as natural as me typing dope – but it was hilarious).

 

By the end, the audience is as comfortable screaming “How old school iz you” as they are asking if that loaf of bread is gluten free. The only thing the show was wrong about is that you have to love hip hop to have a great time – you don’t. You just have to love comedy and let yourself get swept up in the hype.

 

For information about upcoming shows, visit: yukyuks.com

 

Peter n' Chris are not to be missed.

Peter n’ Chris shows are not easy to describe to the uninitiated. Peter Carlone and Chris Wilson turn minimalist stage sets into magic school buses filled with epic adventure and riotously silly comedy, using only energetic physical comedy, quick-witted banter, and the power of the human mind. I left their most recent Fringe Festival Show, Peter N’ Chris Explore Their Bodies, feeling like I had just witnessed a transcendent journey, while at the same time laughing my ever-loving ass off. Amazing that it was just two dudes in raggedy housecoats, right? Audiences seem to agree, and the duo piles up Canadian Comedy Awards and Best of Fringe picks like I pile up empty takeout containers.

With their penchant for exploring the outer limits of the creative possibilities of sketch comedy, it’s no wonder Carlone is resurrecting Vancouver’s Sketch Comedy Festival, at Granville Island from Jan. 23-25. The festival gathers together sketch performers from all over Canada and the USA, and also features local luminaries like the hilarious character comedian Andrew Barber, and the improv stars The Sunday Service. It also offers workshops by Chris Wilson, as well as by Mark and Kyle of the Comedy Network show Picnicface. Perhaps best of all, Peter and Chris will debut their new show Peter n’ Chris and the Kinda OK Corral, which promises Western homages, high noon showdowns, and something called “mouth explosions.” Sadmag sat down with the comedians at The Cascade and, while Chris pilfered Peter’s fries, discussed sharing a bed, growing as performers, and of course babes.

Chris Wilson: That waitress is a smoky babe. She provides the smoke.

Sad Mag: So what qualities do you look for in a babe?

CW: Brunettes mostly. Smoky brunettes. Or just attractive women.

SM: Peter, you’re trying to gesture something…What do you look for in a babe?

Peter Carlone: That’s what I was trying to do, secretly gesture under the table. Great question! I have been told that my type is mousy small town angels.

CW: You can stop at mousy and just strike angels.

PC: You can stop eating my fries. Just a small town girl. Hardworking. Real innocent. Achilles heel for me.

CW : And if a girl is at all goofy…I fall in love with them.

PC: If a girl’s more powerful than me I am on board! I will follow them around.

CW : Same here with the power thing. A powerful goofiness.

SM: So how did you guys meet?

CW: I was attracted to Peter’s powerful goofiness. His smoky qualities.

PC: The real answer, not the really silly answer that Chris gave, is that we met at UVic. We were doing the theatre school there in the same classes and we started to fool around a bunch.

CW: Not physically…creatively.

PC : A little bit physically.

CW: Comedy is physical, but not sexual.

PC: And from there we did coffeehouse nights, which are basically glorified adult talent shows, and hosted awards nights and events and just did little bits here and there.

SM: Did you start performing the Peter n’ Chris show at Fringe Festivals?

CW: The first year we took it to Vancouver and Victoria. And our first show in Vic, I remember us almost selling it out the first shot. It went really well because we went to school there and we had all that support. And then we got to Vancouver, when we hadn’t moved there yet.

PC: In the basement of a church.

CW: We were at Pacific Theatre. We opened to seven people: our acting teacher, two friends, a reviewer, and two random old people.

PC: And one of them was the venue manager, who had to be there. And the two old people did not like it.

CW: No, they did not. They fell asleep.

PC: By the end, we had a pretty nice house, and we learned a lot about what works and what doesn’t, namely the critics. A lot of times people say “I never trust the reviews.” I agree you should never read them during your show, but after the show, take a read. That helped me

CW: What hurt the most about the reviews for the first show is that I agreed with everything they were negatively pointing out! I still think about some reviews we’ve had. One was the first sentence of a piece in Monday Magazine in Victoria that said “It starts off painfully. Dreadfully. Slowly.” And she just did three sentences like that.

PC: And it was a three-star review!

CW: And then it went on to say “but then it gets better.” So I was like “We fucked up the beginning. Ok.”

PC: You don’t want to be in the show that gets better.

CW: Another one that goes through my head all the time is that I was handing out flyers at a festival, and a lady said, “Oh, I already saw it” I told her she should see it again. And she said, “Once was enough.” In just the harshest tones.

SM: Do you spend a lot of time together when you’re traveling to different Fringe Fests around the Country?

PC: I would say too much.

CW: But it’s a great time

PC: Every different sleeping arrangement you can think of, we’ve done. Like sleeping in a basement, sleeping on an overturned couch, sleeping in a car.

CW: Same bed.

PC: Same sleeping bag.

CW : Me being in his bachelor apartment. Which is right now.

SM: How are you able to avoid driving each other crazy?

CW: I think in that first year we got on each other’s nerves more than we have since.

Peter n' Christ fight off the dreariness of January.

PC: We were both going through something we both had never been through before, putting ourselves out there for the first time. So everything that went wrong was either my fault or Chris’s fault. I remember saying to Chris that whole first year, “I am never doing this again for sure. That was my first and last fringe, definitely.”

And then by the end it just doesn’t feel so bad. And then the next year it was also really stressful, but then it just gets easier. Once you’ve learned how to climb that one mountain you can climb that mountain again. And I think the same thing happens with Chris and I spending a lot of time together. It’s the same thing as romantic relationships, too. You just get better at spending time with that person. And then you’re also at a place where you are free to tell them if you are annoyed. You can just say, “Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!”

CW: We just became very open with each other in terms of talking out problems. Whereas in that first year, we had the sense that if you’re gonna be in a duo with somebody, you can’t have problems! Every night that first year, we said, “So what do you want to do tonight?” We still hang out all the time, not just for business.

SM: You just hang out for fun.

CW: Just hanging out for fun. Like we used to when we were real tight friends. Hmm, I said that in a weird way.

PC: We are not friends. We are strictly business partners. I am definitely demoting him to business partner after eating all my fries.

SM: Chris, you moved to Toronto a year ago. How are the comedy scenes different in Toronto and Vancouver, in your experience?

CW: There are more shows in Toronto, that’s for sure. That doesn’t mean they’re all well attended, but the ones that are popular are very popular. If you wanted to get up and do a show every single night you could, but I don’t have a lot of interest in doing that. I’ve been seeking out a lot of standup in character shows. There’s more sketch comedy, there’s more of everything, but there are very few improv groups continually doing improv. In Toronto you do shows as an individual.

SM: Are there any comedic styles or acts that you don’t agree on? Things that one of you finds funny and the other doesn’t?

PC: Maybe? I like stuffy British things and absurdity.

CW: And I like those all as well. Peter sends me stuff online all the time and everything he sends me, I have a laugh at. He likes animation a lot, and I like all the same animated shows.

SM: Chris, how will you approach your physicality in sketch comedy workshop?

CW: I think we’re just going to approach it the way Peter and I do I’ll just get everybody to take a common story that we all know, like Aesop’s Fables or The Tortoise and The Hare and tell the story physically and have fun with it. And also playing with cinema. Everything we do is staged cinematically, we always think about it in terms of what the camera is doing. The audience is the camera.

PC: In the same way that a magician’s whole idea is what they have the audience focus on, the comedian’s way is “How do I make the audience focus on something?” Sometimes it comes down to literally telling them, “This is what you’re looking at.”

CW: Everybody knows movies, we all watch them, so if you do it on stage and hint at what you’re going for…

PC: They can do the rest of the math!

The Sketch Comedy Festival runs from Thursday, January 23 to Saturday, January 25, with Peter n’ Chris’ show featured on January 25. Ticket info.

 

Who are you?
I am Andy Kallstrom, a comedian who lives in Vancouver. I think my wikipedia page says it best though:

Andy Kallstrom does not meet the notability guidelines for inclusion in Wikipedia.

How did you get involved in the comedy scene in Vancouver?
When I moved to Vancouver a co-worker of mine told me I should go to an open mic. So I did. Sorry, that’s not very interesting.

But wait! What if I told you the co-worker was Oprah?? Whoa!

What was the first comedic performance that you felt proud of?
One time when my dad was in the audience and I totally dismantled this heckler. I forget what I said exactly, but it was about waffles or pancakes.

It made me realize it’s possible to be funny even when you say things you didn’t write down beforehand.

What do you think the comedy scene in Vancouver is lacking?
I wish there were more shows that happened around three in the afternoon, before I get all sleepy (which happens at about 5:30).

Favourite Vancouver comic(s)?
Vancouver has lots and lots of great comics. I don’t think I can narrow it down to the unlimited number you’ve allowed me to choose here.

Favourite comedic genre?
I like smart, silly things.

Where are you as you answer these questions?
Just at home, which sounds kind of disappointing, but I live in the Eiffel Tower with my mystery solving dog.

Last album you listened to?
According to my Youtube history, the last three songs I listened to are: Pony by Ginuwine, The Monorail song from The Simpsons, and Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush. I think I must have been trying to cheer myself up and failing.

What are you most excited about right now?
Generally: That guy who wants to send a retired couple to Mars.

Personally: There’s a good chance I’m moving to England soon.

Amy Fox, Michele Tolosa and Dan Dumsha as Some of The Rogues

Queer comedy comes sharper and sweeter when improv rules the night. Between the 2nd  and the 12th of January 2013, catch Queer Arts Society’s The Gay Mafia at the Jericho Arts Centre.

When “The Don” of the Gay Mafia decides to step down, the members of the mob vie for a chance to replace him.  Through improv games designed to put his potential replacement’s strategy, wit and theatrical mettle to the test, The Don will name his successor nightly. The Don, who will alternately be played by Pearce Visser and director David C. Jones, will pick the winner rather than the traditional audience vote.

Pearce Visser as The Don

Sad Mag loves The Sunday Service: we’ve previously featured A Beautiful Podcast on these internet pages, and interviews with members such as Emmett Hall, Caitlin Howden and Kevin Lee. When we’re really lucky, members will perform in our Sad Comedy shows. Mayor Gregor Robertson is a fan too- he even declared November 18th, 2011, to be Sunday Service Day.

But now, there is proof the comedy aficionados across the country love them too: they’ve been nominated for 6 Canadian Comedy Awards- more than any other improv group in the country!

Last year was a big one for Vancouver’s longest-running independent improv comedy show, with a first-place win last summer in Edmonton-based Rapid Fire Theatre’s Improvaganza TheatreSports Tournament and the group’s participation in the viral electoral sensation Shit Harper Did.

Supporters can vote for The Sunday Service in the categories of Best Podcast (The Sunday Service Presents: A Beautiful Podcast) and Best Webclip (Acting Real) online at the Canadian Comedy Awards website!