Comedy and Humor

Subterms

    More stories

    • 163 Shares119 Views

      in Television

      The One Where It’s a Live Musical Parody of Your Favorite TV Show

      by

      “We made these musicals to get people who don’t go to musicals to go to musicals,” said a creator of the Off Broadway “Friends” and “The Office” parodies. “They’re a gateway drug.”The titles of the songs in “Friends! The Musical Parody,” now playing at the Theater Center on West 50th Street, will be familiar to anyone with even a passing acquaintance with the sitcom about six coffee shop lingerers in New York. Joey sings an ode to the art of seduction entitled “How You Doin’?” Chandler and Monica’s amorous duet is “Could I Be Any More in Love With You?” There’s a song about adapting to challenging circumstances called “Pivot,” and, naturally, the post-interval number is “We Were on a Break.”“Friends” isn’t the only television show that has wound up on the musical stage recently. This month, audiences can go see screwy, unauthorized takes on the workplace sitcom “The Office” (“The Office! A Musical Parody”) and Netflix’s sci-fi horror series “Stranger Things” (“Stranger Sings! The Parody Musical”).The shows resemble elongated “Saturday Night Live” sketches with Off Broadway production values. (The monstrous Demogorgon in “Stranger Sings” is partly made out of pool noodles, duct tape and press-on nails.) It’s “Forbidden Broadway” for those more familiar with Ross and Rachel, or Jim and Pam, than Rodgers and Hammerstein.The creators of the “Friends” and “The Office” parodies, Bob McSmith and Tobly McSmith (both 41, and not related), have been making what they loosely call parody musicals for nearly 20 years. “We made these musicals to get people who don’t go to musicals to go to musicals,” Tobly McSmith said. “They’re a gateway drug.”The pair, who met as housemates in Park Slope, bonded over a shared appreciation — equal parts amusement and bemusement — of the high school sitcom “Saved by the Bell.” “It was just on in the morning,” Tobly said. “We’d watch it, we’d smoke pot, we’d go to work.”In that state of herbal-assisted merriment, they hit upon the idea of a “Saved by the Bell” musical. Despite their rudimentary musical skills, and the fact that neither had any experience in the theater, they wrote a bunch of songs and sketches, posted a call for actors on Craigslist, and started to put on the show for free in 2005 at Apocalypse Lounge in the East Village. The place was packed every night. “It was a beautiful mess,” Tobly said. “The audience loved it.”From left, Laura Mehl, Danny Adams and Emma Brock in “The Office! A Musical Parody.”Russ RowlandSince then, they have created spoofs of the TV shows “Beverly Hills, 90210” and “Full House,” as well as a mash-up of “Keeping Up With the Kardashians” and the musical “Cats.” A “Parks and Recreation” parody is on the way, and when the “Friends” show leaves for its national tour — it has already played in Las Vegas; Portland, Maine; and Australia — it will be replaced by the McSmiths’ take on “Love Actually.”Each show finds its own balance between paying tribute and sending up. “We try to evoke the same humor but in different ways,” Tobly said, “and surprise people with things they notice about the show but never really internalized.” The McSmiths are also undeterred by the seeming tautology of presenting comic reinterpretations of comedies. “We call that a hat on a hat on a hat,” Tobly said. “If you can get to five hats — that’s hilarious.”In the case of “Friends! The Musical Parody,” part of the fun is the hectic combination of pointed critique, 10 seasons’ worth of plot, and extratextual jokes about the actors’ salaries and post-“Friends” careers. There’s a whole song dedicated to the near-obligatory observation of the massiveness of Monica and Rachel’s apartment but, also, more spikily, a reference to the blinding whiteness of the cast.Ross’s pet monkey, Marcel, gets a song, too. “The idea that Ross has a pet monkey for a few episodes is the most ridiculous thing,” Bob McSmith said. Ultimately, “Friends! The Musical Parody” is a show by fans for fans. “We call all our shows loving lampoons,” he said. “Parody doesn’t have to be cruel.”“Stranger Sings: The Parody Musical” — opening on Thursday at the Players Theater with book, music and lyrics by Jonathan Hogue — similarly springs from a place of love. “Parody can be a dirty word in the industry,” said Savannah-Lee Mumford, who plays Barb. “What this show does so well is take care to honor the source material rather than poke at its flaws. It enhances it.”Honoring the source material in “Stranger Sings! The Parody Musical”: From left, Adele Simms, Jalen Bunch, Dean Cestari, Patrick Howard and Ariana Perlson.Bruce GlikasThe Netflix series, about suburban adolescents battling paranormal forces, draws from a host of inspirations, including the works of Steven Spielberg and Stephen King, as well as the teen rom-com “Sixteen Candles.” “Stranger Sings” honors that spirit, musically. Eleven, the psychokinetic young girl prone to nosebleeds, has an “I Want” song modeled on “Somewhere That’s Green” from “Little Shop of Horrors.” Steve Harrington, the well-coiffed teenage lunk, has a swaggering hair-metal tune; and Joyce Byers (played by Winona Ryder on the series), the perpetually frazzled single mother of a missing boy, gets a high-camp diva number worthy of Patti LuPone.“That’s part of the fun of parody as a form,” Hogue said. “You get to throw in as many references as you want.”Hogue also incorporated some of the online discourse about the TV show. Most notably, the character of Barb — a fan favorite who abruptly met her demise, inspiring the #JusticeForBarb hashtag on social media — gets the big moment she was denied onscreen, belting out the lyric: “Clearly I’m not central to this plot.”“We heard the internet,” Mumford said. “She definitely got the short end of the stick on the TV series. So this a gift for the fans.”“Stranger Sings” originated as a concert at Feinstein’s/54 Below, where these sorts of screen-to-stage mutations are something of a mainstay: In recent years, it has hosted musical adaptations of “Star Wars,” “Dexter” and “Pokémon,” to name a few. Before “Stranger Sings,” Hogue directed his own “Friends” musical concert for Feinstein’s/54 Below.Clearly, the more improbable the transformation, the better. But are these any more unlikely than musicals adapted from, say, a B-movie about a man-eating plant or an 800-page biography of Alexander Hamilton?This is all legal, by the way, under the laws regarding parody and fair use, as long as the shows are genuine adaptations — not mere facsimiles — and don’t give the impression of being officially sanctioned. The McSmiths have had only one run-in along these lines. “Andrew Lloyd Webber did not find our Kardashians-Cats musical as funny as we did,” Tobly said. “We agreed to change the music tracks to a couple songs, including ‘Meow-mories’ sung by Cat-lyn Jenner, and they left us alone.”Perhaps, after a year’s worth of pandemic binge-watching at home, some audiences will be drawn to theater that recreates television in all its reassuring comfort-food predictability, with familiar characters in familiar settings acting out familiar story lines. There’s something to be said for a live show that manages to recreate the laid-back atmosphere of your living room.“From the outset, we were trying to parody ‘Saved by the Bell,’ but also trying to parody theater,” Tobly said. “We’ve always felt so far away from Broadway. And we like that.” More

    • 175 Shares189 Views

      in Movies

      A New Improv Theater Tries to Be the Anti-U.C.B. Is That a Trap, Too?

      by

      A diverse board of comics is trying to build an inclusive, accessible institution. But knowing what they don’t want to be may not be enough.When the Upright Citizens Brigade permanently closed its New York operations last year, the news hit Corin Wells like a death in the family. She moved to the city because of U.C.B., invested time and money, evolving from a student to a teacher and in the uncertain early months of the pandemic, the theater represented an anchor to the past and hope for the future. “When I got the email, I cried,” she said in a video call. “I didn’t have anything to go back to.”Then a sense of betrayal sank in, one shared by many improvisers, particularly since U.C.B. had held onto its theater in Los Angeles, where its founders are mostly based. “We were the bastard child,” Wells said. “Decisions were being made for us that did not serve us, almost like taxation without representation.”In recent years, U.C.B. had moved its popular Del Close Festival from New York to the West Coast, closed its East Village theater and exited its longtime space in Chelsea. But for Michael Hartney, the last artistic director of U.C.B. New York, the final straw came when the institution took out a Paycheck Protection Program loan worth hundreds of thousands of dollars before closing his theater. He felt “very gamed,” sparking an epiphany and a call to Wells to propose starting their own improv theater. She immediately agreed. They brought other U.C.B. veterans to form a board that met remotely every week last summer.“We wanted to reinvent what the improv theater looked like,” Wells said.The challenge: How do you hold onto the good parts of the Upright Citizens Brigade but avoid the flaws that made it so susceptible to collapse?Squirrel Comedy Theater is trying to reinvent how an improv institution is run.Gus Powell for The New York TimesOf all the art forms hurt during the pandemic, none was disrupted as much as improv comedy. Legacy institutions like Second City and iO in Chicago were sold after economic turmoil and a racial reckoning. In New York, the vanishing of U.C.B., a longtime juggernaut, left a vacuum that many are now competing to fill. It’s a moment of remarkable flux, turmoil and opportunity. Relative newcomers to New York like Asylum NYC (currently in U.C.B.’s old 26th Street home) and the Brooklyn Comedy Collective (which recently moved into a new space in Williamsburg), are both offering classes and putting on shows. And staples like the Pit and Magnet (which both scaled down in the pandemic) have started to reopen, producing shows and offering classes, virtually and in person.And what began with Hartney’s phone call is now the Squirrel Comedy Theater, the name a wry reference to the term for people who practice Scientology outside of the official organization. Even though the Squirrel was born in part from disenchantment, it still distinguishes itself by its faith in the aesthetic of the Upright Citizens Brigade. “The U.C.B. taught us a method of creating comedy that works,” Hartney said. “Those other theaters are amazing and valuable, but they don’t teach that. We feel like it has to keep going.”The Squirrel started as a residency in June at the Caveat, a theater on the Lower East Side. Hartney and his board, which includes the improvisers Lou Gonzalez, Patrick Keene, Maritza Montañez and Alex Song-Xia, are looking at real-estate options.The Squirrel has started a residency at the Caveat theater on the Lower East Side.Gus Powell for The New York TimesThe board members quickly came to a consensus on principles that would put them in contrast with their former home. Squirrel would be nonprofit (which until recently was very unusual for improv theaters), pay onstage talent (U.C.B. did not), and in an effort to remove barriers of entry, open classes to any student, regardless of level. Because it’s nonprofit, the Squirrel’s long-term sustainability may depend not just on ticket sales and class fees, but on its ability to raise money, too.Its mission statement emphasizes a commitment to diversity, inclusion and representation. U.C.B. also claimed to value inclusion, instituting a diversity scholarship, but that often didn’t translate to the stage. In June 2020, it came under considerable criticism for its diversity efforts, leading its founders to announce they were giving power to a “board of diverse individuals.”So how will Squirrel be different?Hartney and Wells say it starts with leadership. In contrast to the U.C.B.’s founders — Amy Poehler, Matt Besser, Ian Roberts and Matt Walsh — this board includes no straight white men or women and are majority Black, Indigenous or people of color. Hartney described himself as “a de facto artistic director,” which he said he was very hesitant about because of the appearance of continuity, but added that because of his experience, others insisted. Whereas programming decisions at U.C.B. were made by himself alone, now the group decides.When asked if they would program a troupe like the Stepfathers, a popular, talent-rich company that ran at U.C.B. for many years with performers like Zach Woods and Chris Gethard, he shakes his head: “I’m not excited about an all-white weekend team.”Michael Hartney, in red, is the de facto artistic director, a job he held at U.C.B.Gus Powell for The New York TimesOn Sunday, the Squirrel did premiere a weekly show with a diverse cast, Raaaatscraps, that was hosted by two former members of the Stepfathers, Connor Ratliff and Shannon O’Neill, also veterans of the most famous U.C.B. show, Asssscat. Without mentioning the old theater, O’Neill went onstage and described the show as a “renamed, rebranded” version of Asssscat, and it relied on the same format: A monologue by a surprise guest (Janeane Garofalo this time) inspires a long-form improv.How the Squirrel navigates its relationship to the U.C.B. is going to be an evolving process that Wells said will depend to some degree on trial and error: “What’s going to sell tickets: An old U.C.B. team with a recognizable name or a new group of artists who will bring their friends? “It’s a hard balance,” she said, adding that they need to do both. “Always be testing.”But one guiding principal is a skepticism of permanence, of shows that run indefinitely, even of founders who stay too long. “We designed this to be taken over,” said Hartney, who doesn’t see himself at this job in 10 years. “We want the next people to address the changing needs of this community.”U.C.B. built its reputation in part as an incubator of stars like Kate McKinnon, Ilana Glazer and Donald Glover, and the Squirrel wants to be a competitive environment for ambitious comics as well as a warm, welcoming community. Hartney recognizes that there can be a tension. Of the board members, “I am probably the one most interested in hosting an ‘S.N.L.’ showcase,” he said.Wells is, too. It will surely help the Squirrel get attention from people in comedy that last week, Wells was named one of the new faces at Just For Laughs, the industry festival. It’s an irony not lost on her that building a theater in opposition to U.C.B. can tie you to it. “In a perfect world, we could separate ourselves,” she said, but in every conversation they’ve had, U.C.B. “has always been a part. I think to be able to fix a system that U.C.B. set in place, you kind of had to live in it.” More

    • 88 Shares169 Views

      in Television

      Jay Pharoah Is Ready to Play Superman

      by

      The comedian and actor talks about his new romantic comedy, the importance of Charlie and Eddie Murphy and why bombing onstage is a good thing.Jay Pharoah has more than 200 impressions in his staggering repertory — most famously, President Barack Obama, Jay-Z, Will Smith, Eddie Murphy and Denzel Washington.But the person he’s channeling in Netflix’s “Resort to Love,” starring Christina Milian as a singer who ends up performing at the Mauritius wedding of her ex-fiancé — that would be Pharoah — is, rather surprisingly, himself.“I can’t say it wasn’t hard, it was just something that I had lived before,” he said of the role, his first romantic lead. “Maybe not marriage-wise, maybe not engaged, but I’ve had those conversations with my exes. I’ve had somebody say to me, ‘If you were the one for me, it wouldn’t be as hard.’ I’ve had people say, ‘I’m scared.’ They were literally moments in my life that I was pulling from.”But if Pharoah’s amorous life is moving at a deliberate pace (“I’m narrowing it down,” he said. “I don’t date anymore. I go on interviews.”), his professional one is speeding ahead. After freestyling a new voice for the “Family Guy” staff last year, he was asked whether he wanted a writing job on the show, starting with the season premiering this fall.“The folks at ‘Family Guy’ were like, ‘Listen, we know you go on tour, we know you do movies, so we will work with your schedule. We value you,’” he said. “And that makes me feel good, makes me feel wanted — unlike high school.”In a call from New York, where he was hitting some comedy clubs before returning to Los Angeles, Pharoah talked about the people, places and things instrumental to that transformation. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.1. His Faith I used to work at Burlington Coat Factory. I remember in 2008, there was a gentleman who came through the line, and he said: “Listen, don’t worry about it. Everything that you want to happen in your career is about to happen. Just don’t give up on your talent. The spirit of God told me to tell you that.” I was like, “What?” I’d never seen this man before. He’d never seen me. But he told me that. And I was like: “OK, I’m not going to give up on my talent. But I am going to quit Burlington.”2. Shaina Farrow, his sister and manager My sister definitely made the ultimate sacrifice taking a chance on me. She could have easily got a job doing something else. In 2009, when we decided to go on the road, she pawned her jewelry so we had gas money to get up to New York.And she’s not somebody who I put in the position just because they were a family member — because my dad was my manager before, and he didn’t have the skills. It’s good to have people in your corner that really care about you, but it’s better to have people who care about you and know what they’re doing.3. Eddie Murphy’s “Delirious” It’s the greatest comedy special ever, next to “Richard Pryor: Live in Concert.” You want to talk about family stories, perfect impressions, callbacks, racial observation, racial humor — it’s the buffet of comedy. Nobody’s special has been better than that, and that came out in 1983. And until this day I can watch that stand-up and laugh the same way every time, even if I know that the punchline is coming.4. Charlie Murphy Charlie Murphy [Eddie’s older brother] is somebody who took a chance on me. Being young in the comedy game and killing onstage is intimidating for anybody who’s older. He saw me when I was 19 years old. He was like: “Yo man, that was hilarious. I want to take you on the road with me, man. You want to go?”He told me about the game. He told me to never lie. He’d say, “As long as you tell them the truth, they will walk with you.” He also said: “No matter what you do, whether it’s your cross, whether it’s a thought, whatever it is, always take God onstage with you.” And number three, and this was a big one, he said: “If you don’t have butterflies or you’re not nervous before you get on that stage, you’re nothing. Because that means you don’t give a [expletive] about your craft anymore.”5. Carolines on Broadway Charlie Murphy took me to Carolines on Broadway, my first comedy club in New York, and it was an amazing weekend. I remember the third show on Saturday night. It was late. I was tired. Uncle Ray [Murphy], rest in peace, was hosting. I do my set. I got a standing ovation and I’m like, whoa. As I’m trying to leave the stage, I trip. Uncle Ray is sitting in the back, and he goes: “That was good work out there. But we got to work on your balance.”6. Bombing onstage You have to bomb to become better. You know, all of the greats have bombed and if you haven’t bombed, you’re not great. You will become comfortable in something and you’re perpetuating it, whereas if you bomb, you have to dig in yourself and find something out. There’s no other options.7. Jay-Z and Chris Martin’s “Beach Chair” I don’t talk about this a lot, but I was depressed in 2007. There was a lot going on. And then good things started happening, and Jay-Z’s “Beach Chair” was the soundtrack for that. That song put me on the Jay-Z wagon. Oh, he’s dope, he’s the G.O.A.T. And that’s the blueprint for my impression. His voice was lucid. It was strong, but it was soothing.8. Battle Rap Battle rap is so similar to stand-up comedy — setup, punchline, delivery, execution, swag, verbiage. Everything counts in battle rap the same way that everything counts on the stage. It’s the same science, but it’s a different form of that science. I like Loaded Lux, Murda Mook, Calicoe, X-Factor, Aye Verb. Of the new school you’ve got your Rum Nitty, JC, Geechi Gotti. You have Ave. You got Nu Jerzey Twork. I love the aggression. I love the wordplay. I love the creativity. And it just makes me happy to watch it.9. Ludacris’s “Back for the First Time” That’s the first rap album that I ever owned. I remember I burned the CD — I bootlegged it, that’s what I did. And it made me want to rap. Ludacris was a good balance of fun and lyrical, kind of like a Busta Rhymes but more contemporary.Coming from a heavy Christian household, there’s certain things your peoples don’t put up with. And my dad didn’t appreciate [Ludacris’s profanity]. So he took the album from me and put it in his room. But I found it, and I just swapped out an unburned disc, and he didn’t even know the difference. He’d leave the house and I would play it as loud as I could. I played it until it had so many scratches, I couldn’t play it anymore.10. Will Smith’s “I Am Legend”Just like Tom Hanks did in “Cast Away,” Will Smith showed that you can captivate an audience for an hour and change with just you. And that was the beauty of it. It was so much emotion. It showed his range. And to me it solidified him as one of the greatest actors of all time.And it showed me, if Will Smith could get ripped like that, I could get ripped like that too. Now I look like Black Bane. I am not slacking a minute. I know that they’re out here looking for Black Superman and if I don’t land that, I’m going to get somebody close. I don’t care if the Falcon’s got a little brother. I don’t care if they come out with a character called the Pigeon. I will play that role. More

    • 113 Shares189 Views

      in Television

      Tig Notaro’s ‘Drawn’ Explores Strange New Worlds: Animated Ones

      by

      The stand-up special is built around audio recorded in live performances. Then artists went to work. Sometimes they took her bits far beyond what she expected.One day during the production of her new, animated stand-up special, Tig Notaro was presented with a rough illustrated version of an anecdote about her double mastectomy. In the bit, Notaro ponders what her doctors might have done with her discarded breasts after the surgery she underwent following a 2012 cancer diagnosis. What if, she asks, the remains had been tossed in a Hollywood dumpster? Might they have been left for rodents to play tug of war with? More

    • 125 Shares99 Views

      in Movies

      Robert Downey Sr., Filmmaker and Provocateur, Is Dead at 85

      by

      His movies, most notably “Putney Swope,” didn’t make a lot of money. But they attracted a lot of attention and influenced a lot of younger directors.Robert Downey Sr., who made provocative movies like “Putney Swope” that avoided mainstream success but were often critical favorites and were always attention getting, died on Wednesday at his home in Manhattan. He was 85.The cause was Parkinson’s disease, his wife, Rosemary Rogers, said.“Putney Swope,” a 1969 comedy about a Black man who is accidentally elected chairman of a Madison Avenue advertising agency, was perhaps Mr. Downey’s best-known film.“To be as precise as is possible about such a movie,” Vincent Canby wrote in a rave review in The New York Times, “it is funny, sophomoric, brilliant, obscene, disjointed, marvelous, unintelligible and relevant.”The film, though probably a financial success by Mr. Downey’s standards, made only about $2.7 million. (By comparison, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” that same year made more than $100 million.) Yet its reputation was such that in 2016 the Library of Congress selected it for the National Film Registry, an exclusive group of movies deemed to have cultural or historical significance.Shelley Plimpton and Ronnie Dyson in a scene from Mr. Downey’s “Putney Swope” (1969).Cinema VAlso much admired in some circles was “Greaser’s Palace” (1972), in which a Christlike figure in a zoot suit arrives in the Wild West by parachute. Younger filmmakers like Paul Thomas Anderson (who gave Mr. Downey a small part in his 1997 hit, “Boogie Nights”) cited it as an influence.None other than Joseph Papp, the theater impresario, in a letter to The New York Times after Mr. Canby’s unenthusiastic review, wrote that “Robert Downey has fearlessly descended into the netherworld and come up with a laughing nightmare.” (Mr. Papp’s assessment may not have been entirely objective; at the time he was producing one of Mr. Downey’s few mainstream efforts, a television version of the David Rabe play “Sticks and Bones,” which had been a hit at Mr. Papp’s Public Theater in 1971.)Between “Putney Swope” and “Greaser’s Palace” there was “Pound” (1970), a political satire in which actors portrayed stray dogs. Among those actors, playing a puppy, was Robert Downey Jr., the future star of the “Iron Man” movies and many others, and Mr. Downey’s son. He was 5 and making his film debut.That movie, the senior Mr. Downey told The Times Union of Albany, N.Y., in 2000, was something of a surprise to the studio.“When I turned it into United Artists,” he said, “after the screening one of the studio heads said to me, ‘I thought this was gonna be animated.’ They thought they were getting some cute little animated film.”Allan Arbus in Mr. Downey’s “Greaser’s Palace” (1972), of which the theater impresario Joseph Papp wrote, “Robert Downey has fearlessly descended into the netherworld and come up with a laughing nightmare.”via PhotofestRobert John Elias Jr. was born on June 24, 1936, in Manhattan and grew up in Rockville Centre, on Long Island. His father was in restaurant management, and his mother, Betty (McLoughlin) Elias, was a model. Later, when enlisting in the Army as a teenager, he adopted the last name of his stepfather, Jim Downey, who worked in advertising.Much of his time in the Army was spent in the stockade, he said later; he wrote a novel while doing his time, but it wasn’t published. He pitched semi-pro baseball for a year, then wrote some plays.Among the people he met on the Off Off Broadway scene was William Waering, who owned a camera and suggested they try making movies. The result, which he began shooting when John F. Kennedy was still president and which was released in 1964, was “Babo 73,” in which Taylor Mead, an actor who would go on to appear in many Andy Warhol films, played the president of the United States. It was classic underground filmmaking.“We just basically went down to the White House and started shooting, with no press passes, permits, anything like that,” Mr. Downey said in an interview included in the book “Film Voices: Interviews From Post Script” (2004). “Kennedy was in Europe, so nobody was too tight with the security, so we were outside the White House mainly, ran around; we actually threw Taylor in with some real generals.”The budget, he said, was $3,000.Mr. Downey’s “Chafed Elbows,” about a day in the life of a misfit, was released in 1966 and was a breakthrough of sorts, earning him grudging respect even from Bosley Crowther, The Times’s staid film critic.“One of these days,” he wrote, “Robert Downey, who wrote, directed and produced the underground movie ‘Chafed Elbows,’ which opened at the downtown Gate Theater last night, is going to clean himself up a good bit, wash the dirty words out of his mouth and do something worth mature attention in the way of kooky, satiric comedy. He has the audacity for it. He also has the wit.”Mr. Downey with his son, the actor Robert Downey Jr., at a Time magazine gala in 2008. The younger Mr. Downey made his acting debut in one of his father’s movies when he was 5.Evan Agostini/AGOEV, via Associated PressThe film enjoyed extended runs at the Gate and the Bleecker Street Cinema. “No More Excuses” followed in 1968, then “Putney Swope,” “Pound” and “Greaser’s Palace.” But by the early 1970s Mr. Downey had developed a cocaine habit.“Ten years of cocaine around the clock,” he told The Associated Press in 1997. His marriage to Elsie Ford, who had been in several of his movies, faltered; they eventually divorced. He credited his second wife, Laura Ernst, with helping to pull him out of addiction. She died in 1994 of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. Mr. Downey drew on that experience for his last feature, “Hugo Pool” (1997).In addition to his wife and son, he is survived by a daughter, Allyson Downey; a brother, Jim; a sister, Nancy Connor; and six grandchildren.Mr. Downey’s movies have earned new appreciation in recent decades. In 2008 Anthology Film Archives in the East Village restored and preserved “Chafed Elbows,” “Babo 73″ and “No More Excuses” with the support of the Film Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to film preservation. At the time, Martin Scorsese, a member of the foundation’s board, called them “an essential part of that moment when a truly independent American cinema was born.”“They’re alive in ways that few movies can claim to be,” Mr. Scorsese told The Times, “because it’s the excitement of possibility and discovery that brought them to life.”Mr. Downey deflected such praise.“They’re uneven,” he said of the films. “But I was uneven.”Alex Traub contributed reporting. More

    • 163 Shares139 Views

      in Television

      TV Is Full of Stories About Creative Work — Minus the Work Part

      by

      HBO’s “Hacks” is more interested in its characters’ personalities than their output. But plenty of great stories have been told about the creative process itself.The premise of HBO’s smart hit comedy “Hacks,” just finished with its first season and renewed for a second, is that a played-out older Las Vegas comedian, Deborah Vance, ends up paired with a canceled and unemployable Gen Z comic, who is meant to help her write new material. Both of them view the association as beneath them. Deborah has always written her own material. Ava, who shows up for the job without even researching her new employer’s work, smarts under the perception that Deborah doesn’t regard her as very talented.When, in the second episode, a flat tire leaves them stranded in the desert, Ava begins to complain that Deborah is making the job unnecessarily hard, even though Ava is “good.” Deborah, regally outfitted in a flowing robe and parasol, responds coldly. “Good is the minimum,” she says. “It’s the baseline. You have to be so much more than good.” Even if you’re great, she says — and even if you’re lucky — you still have to work, and hard, “and even that is not enough.” Deborah doesn’t respect her new employee because Ava has done nothing to earn that respect and has in fact done much to discourage it. She then abandons Ava in the desert.Deborah may be a highhanded, abusive boss, but she is also right. Watching this show, though, you sometimes wonder if it believes her. Like most shows about creative endeavors, “Hacks” commits to the idea that its characters are hustlers: Deborah, in particular, is ruthless when it comes to keeping her Vegas time slots. But one thing that is rarely on the table in shows like this is real failure. (Deborah might lose her slots, and Ava her job, but we’ve seen enough of these stories to suspect those would only be stages on the way to their eventual success.) And despite Deborah’s speech, one thing we rarely see her and Ava do is actual work, hard or otherwise. They bounce jokes off each other, briefly, in the first episode, and Ava pitches Deborah a few times. We see Deborah’s standup, but aren’t offered much insight into her process. We barely see Ava’s work at all. These women are in comedy, but for all it matters to the show, they might as well be in car sales. At least in a show about a dealership, you would see them sell some cars.Taking failure off the table, rarely depicting creative work — these are linked choices, and in making them, “Hacks” is hardly alone. Even outside the realm of TV and film, you find things like Sally Rooney’s novel “Conversations With Friends,” about a poet whose poetry never appears in the book; everybody says she’s great, and we’re left to imagine why. You wouldn’t watch “Rocky” and expect to see neither training nor boxing, but in stories about artists, it’s typical to relocate all the struggle, all the drama, into the protagonists’ personal lives. They are blocked creatively because they are blocked personally. Or they are fine creatively, but personal conflict erupts right before the big show and pours out in their performance. The work, the talent, is a given. The story is elsewhere.“Hacks” is not centrally concerned with the business of show business. Its biggest story lines involve changes in gender politics and tastes — in comedy, but not only comedy — across generations. The show that Ava eventually pushes Deborah to write sounds personal, confessional, more like Hannah Gadsby’s “Nanette” than a Vegas comedy set. But we never see it; we’re only told it bombed, which might have been interesting to watch. Ava’s other major intervention is accusing Deborah of not sticking up for other women, which leads to a scene in which Deborah lectures a male heckler, then pays him $1.69 million to never again enter a comedy club. “Hacks” can get away with this — can avoid showing its characters developing their work — because we accept the premise that they are both talented. If it wanted to suggest they were bad or mediocre at what they do, we would have to see it.They assert that failure lies at the heart of all art, and that any story about art is a story about progressive failures.There are works out there about people who are artistic failures. Some have no talent, while others just have no luck. In the first two minutes of Elaine May’s “Ishtar,” we watch the two protagonists writing a song together, testing out lines, discarding what works and keeping what doesn’t. They do this throughout the movie, even in life-or-death situations, because writing songs is what they care about. The joke is that they are fine-tuning songs that are incredibly, unsalvageably bad, working toward an ideal of aesthetic perfection shared by nobody but them. This creative process is faithfully recreated by May, step by painful step, because the movie is ultimately about two guys who will never be what they want: great songwriters.In Tim Burton’s “Ed Wood,” we watch the titular director of comically hokey B-movies as he crafts “Plan 9 From Outer Space,” famous in some circles as the “worst movie ever.” Unlike May, Burton doesn’t leave the question of why Wood’s movies are so bad as a kind of holy mystery. They’re bad because Wood doesn’t attend to his actual work: He buzzes with such enthusiasm that he films one take of everything, no matter how bad. Like “Ishtar,” the film celebrates this delusional commitment by structuring itself as if it were the story of an artist who eventually won acclaim — and, like “Ishtar,” it revolves around people who are difficult to root for, not because they are unlikable but because they are incompetent. The opposite may be true for Martin Scorsese’s “The King of Comedy,” in which Rupert Pupkin gets on TV by kidnapping a TV talk-show host. The big twist is that his routine is actually pretty funny; he’s just an unlikable guy whose name nobody can remember.The reason these movies are outliers is pretty simple: They were all bombs. (In the case of “Ishtar,” a bomb of such infamous proportions as to become a punchline for decades.) But by putting artistic struggle at their core, they assert that failure lies at the heart of all art and that any story about art is a story about progressive failures. Like Wile E. Coyote chasing the Road Runner, failure chases something it will never have. But would we know anything about the Road Runner without it?Television shows dedicated to creative work, and creative failure, are harder to find. There was “30 Rock,” about a sketch-comedy show that was, pretty clearly, hacky, unfunny and poorly run. And yes, there’s probably only so much time audiences can be expected to spend watching people tinker with songs or jokes — but other kinds of television have figured out how to mix personal drama with the actual work of their characters. There’s no reason we can’t see Deborah and Ava working together; we just don’t. “Hacks” is meant to be a show about women and the work they do that goes unrecognized. But that work seems to be recognized least of all by the show. It would have been a crazy thing to dedicate an episode to Deborah’s routine and its failure to land. But it would have supplied the missing piece of her partnership with Ava. It would have been a crazy thing, but it would have made a better show, too. Source photographs: Screen grabs from HBO MaxB.D. McClay is a critic, an essayist and a contributing editor at The Hedgehog Review and a contributing writer at Commonweal. More

    • 163 Shares199 Views

      in Movies

      ‘The One and Only Dick Gregory’ Review: A Peek at a Comic Legend

      by

      The documentary examines the many lives of the stand-up and activist who inspired a generation of performers.In a remarkable article from October 1960, Ebony magazine asked why there were no Black stars in comedy, blaming racist double standards held by audiences and television bookers as well as a new sensitivity (the term “politically correct” had not been coined) that wouldn’t tolerate performers trafficking in stereotypes from the minstrel era. Three months later, Dick Gregory, mentioned briefly as a “newcomer,” made the question irrelevant in one night.When the manager at the Playboy Club in Chicago discovered the crowd was made up of white Southern businessmen in town for a convention, he suggested that Gregory postpone. The comedian refused, went onstage and killed. He did so well, his contract there was extended, and led to national press and an appearance on “The Tonight Show.” Gregory became a crossover star, a pioneering comedic social critic who inspired a generation of stand-ups.“The One and Only Dick Gregory,” an aptly titled new documentary, does justice to this fabled performance, setting the scene and the stakes. But what stands out most about this revolutionary moment in comedy is what a small role it plays in the overall portrait here. Gregory, who died in 2017, lived so many lives that he presents a challenge for anyone trying to document them. The director Andre Gaines tries to capture as many as possible, to a fault. By covering so much ground, it doesn’t have room to dig too deep. But along with some very funny footage of a master of his craft, it offers a convincing argument that while Gregory became famous for his comedy, what made him such a riveting cultural figure is what he did after he left it behind.Gaines recruits a talent-rich cast of comics (Wanda Sykes, Dave Chappelle) to describe the performer. Chris Rock is particularly insightful and blunt, comparing Gregory’s relaxed, patient, cigarette-wielding delivery with that of Chappelle. Gregory was ahead of his time in his material on police brutality and racism, but just as he became a star, his activism heated up. A demonstration for voting rights in Mississippi was a turning point, and the movie covers his work and relationships with the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the N.A.A.C.P. leader Medgar Evers. By the 1980s, Gregory had stopped playing clubs and became an early health and wellness guru while still waging a broad array of political fights, going on fasts and long runs to earn attention for causes like fighting hunger and obesity.There’s clearly a price to pay for living as active a life as Dick Gregory did. He was rarely home to see his family (his kids are astute talking heads), and toward the end of his life, legal troubles led to financial collapse and the loss of his home. The last half-hour is jarringly downbeat if slightly underexamined, with Gregory returning to clubs and appearing in a Rob Schneider movie, “The Hot Chick,” that allows him to get much-needed health care coverage.The legend of Dick Gregory gives way to a peek of him as a more complex man, albeit one much funnier than most everyone else. On the reboot of his talk show, Arsenio Hall asked him what drove him. Gregory retorted: “My bills.”The One and Only Dick GregoryNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 53 minutes. Watch on Showtime platforms. More

    • 100 Shares99 Views

      in Movies

      Stand-Ups Get Experimental in Five Adventurous New Specials

      by

      For these sets, Chris Gethard, Rory Scovel, Carmen Christopher, Josh Johnson and Jessica Watkins borrow from improv, documentary and more.“You gotta get a gimmick if you wanna get applause.”When Stephen Sondheim placed this timeless showbiz advice in the classic musical “Gypsy,” he was referring to stripping. If dancing seductively while taking your clothes off is not enough to win over an audience, imagine the challenge of telling jokes in a crowded stand-up scene. In her debut, “Specialish,” Jessica Watkins puts it this way: “You need more than comedy. You need a shtick.”For Watkins, this meant pushing a cart across America on highways and through woods, sleeping in a tent and filming this lonely trek while doing sets in small spaces from New York to California. An odd mix of stand-up special and “Nomadland,” her effort is both exceptional and characteristic of the try-anything moment in comedy, one in which many performers are fusing forms, mixing onstage with off, merry with melancholy, written jokes with music, improv or other elements.Bo Burnham’s buzzy “Inside” (Netflix) packaged a solo show inside a musical. Next month, Tig Notaro releases a fully animated stand-up special. But the fastest growing comedy hybrid is the stand-up documentary. Shots of the comic backstage once bookended the jokes, but now scenes of the life of the comic regularly introduce, respond to and buttress the performance. It’s no surprise that the winners of the 2020 Oscar for best documentary feature made Dave Chappelle’s next movie, “This Time This Place,” a chronicle of, among other things, performing in his hometown Yellow Springs, Ohio, during the pandemic.“Specialish” (available on major digital platforms) is an example of the strengths and pitfalls of this high-concept approach: While it added scenic drama and beauty to her strenuous journey, it eventually overwhelmed the comedy. In explaining why she’s pushing a cart on her trip, she quips, “I wanted to look more homeless.” Such punch lines hit less hard than interludes in her life. The stand-up often seems incidental if not out of place, even a distraction from the main event.Carmen Christopher, left, and Chris Gethard in “Half My Life.”Comedy DynamicsIn recent months, Rory Scovel, Chris Gethard and Carmen Christopher put out more modestly focused specials that mix stand-up with behind-the-scenes footage. Each is experimental in different ways. In “Live Without Fear” (available on YouTube), Scovel, a dynamic and inventive performer who has delivered some of the funniest sets I have ever seen, set himself the task of making up six shows completely on the spot: stand-up merged with improv. His goal was to capture the spontaneity of creation while weaving in post-show commentary on what went wrong.Shot by Scott Moran with sensitivity to the rhythm of jokes, Scovel’s performances are riveting high-wire acts, not as refined as a normal set but displaying the drunken thrill of a party conversation starting to take off. Scovel brings titanic aggression leavened by patience, toying with words, searching for the funny parts, filibustering a premise and biding his time, waiting for inspiration to strike. Many of his best improvisations begin with simple observational premises — the weirdness of the phrase “getting on your high horse” — then move into puns (“pot-smoking horses”) followed by absurdity (“That’s where the show ‘Mr. Ed’ comes from”) and a coda with bizarre rage (“Tell me I’m wrong!”).If Scovel courts failure, Christopher hugs it tightly in “Street Special,” a deadpan, self-consciously awkward special, one of the first produced on Peacock. Carrying his own microphone, Christopher set up shop on New York street corners during the pandemic, surprising nervous pedestrians with jokes. At the start, he interrupts outdoor diners at the East Village spot Veselka by announcing that he just got engaged. After some lonely applause, annoyed glances and some quintessential New York indifference, he said he was kidding, that he has been single for seven years and that he just wanted to see what it felt like to have people excited for him.This cringe comedy will divide viewers. He satirizes certain kinds of hack comedy but finds an oddball spirit all its own. Christopher doesn’t just capture the anxious atmosphere of pandemic-era city life. He exploits it to jack up the tension in a joke.He also shows up as the opening act in Chris Gethard’s special “Half My Life” (on major digital platforms), a chronicle of a road trip alongside a portrait of a comic in a midlife crisis. Gethard is a New York comedy institution whose many projects include the popular podcast “Beautiful/Anonymous,” which features conversations with a stranger. But now, with a newborn at home, he sounds surprisingly ambivalent about his two-decade career, calling himself the king of the “near sellout” and wondering aloud about his passion for performing. “I think I still love comedy, but my back hurts and I’m tired,” he says.In his work, Gethard is known for wandering down dark avenues, but “Half My Life” actually evolves into a lightly fun special. He’s smart enough to drill down on his best bit — a series of jokes about Gatorland, an amusement park in Orlando that competes with Disney World — and concludes by becoming what is surely the first stand-up to perform for an audience exclusively of alligators.Josh Johnson follows jokes with R&B songs on his new album.Mindy TuckerIf there’s a fusion of forms that approaches the popularity of the documentary-stand-up mix, it’s that of the marriage between comedy and music. While many comics use music in their jokes, the new album by Josh Johnson (on Apple Music) is the first I have heard that puts stand-up bits side by side with earnestly produced songs. Johnson is a rising star, a “Daily Show” writer who emerged from the pandemic with this album, as well as a sharply observed special on Comedy Central that is a better showcase for his joke writing. The album, billed as “part millennial escapism, part Negro spiritual,” is a mixed bag that follows a joke about how love should be regulated (“There’s nothing someone hasn’t done for crack that they haven’t done for love”) with an R&B song.Sometimes, the connections between the comedy and the music are hard to detect. It’s right there in its title — “Elusive.”The great thing about standup is that it’s a bare-bones art. Anyone with a voice can do it. And traditionalists have a point when they roll their eyes, insisting that comics should just get to the jokes. These specials have more unnecessary or unfinished elements than the best comedy. (Scovel’s “Live Without Fear” includes a side plot about the history of the theater he performs in that doesn’t quite come together.)But it’s a mistake to be too cynical about efforts to push the form or to borrow from new sources, because that’s what will keep comedy growing. Even if the new adventurousness in specials is rooted in gimmickry, I still welcome it. The stand-up special is too young an art to become set in its ways. More