Michael Abrahams | Respect for stand-up comedy

The art form of stand-up comedy is no laughing matter. I know. It sounds funny. But stand-up comedy is a craft that is underappreciated by many but, when mastered, can be a powerful tool to make us not only laugh, but also think.

The first stand-up comedian who impacted me was Richard Pryor. Pryor was funny as hell. His childhood was a mess, and so were his marriages, but I would die laughing listening to him recount traumatic events in his turbulent life, such as when he had a heart attack, because he described them with brutal honesty and outrageous hilarity.

I began to respect stand-up comedians from then, as I realised how difficult their jobs can be. If you are performing in a stage production, there will be other cast members to interact with and support you. If you are a singer and you perform live, you will usually have a band or backup singers to engage with. But with stand-up comedy, it is just you and the mic. That’s it.

Sometimes you can improvise and use a stool or mic stand as a prop, but it is really just you up there. If you are in a play, you are in character, and morph into someone else. With stand-up comedy, you are yourself. You are vulnerable. If a joke falls flat, it is you who are not funny, not the character you are playing.

A singer or band can have a popular song that they sing repeatedly at concerts and the crowd may go wild. When a stand-up comedian tells a story with funny punch lines, the effect diminishes every time you hear the story, because you know what is coming next. Part of what makes a punch line funny is that its content is unexpected. So, comedians have to constantly develop new material or find different ways of presenting older material.

Stand-up comedians often say things that sound silly to make you laugh. But they are not idiots. They are usually intelligent people who see the same things we see, but through different lenses. They are able to see humour in situations that would scare or anger regular folk. The thought of having a private video of you and your partner engaging in sex becoming public and going viral is a terrifying one. This is exactly what happened to my friend Christopher ‘Johnny’ Daley several years ago. But one of the funniest performances that I have seen on stage was when Chris spoke about the ordeal, especially when his mother heard about it and went to visit him to discuss it. I laughed hysterically.

I also remember calling my friend Elva Ruddock, one of our finest comedians, to express my condolences after the passing of her mother. I expected a solemn conversation, but instead I spent half an hour on the phone laughing as she regaled me with tales about her interactions with her mother over the years. I cried, but the tears were not mournful ones; they were induced by incessant laughter.

There is a slew of vloggers on social media now posting funny skits. Some are absolutely hilarious, and the artistes deserve credit for their productions. But please understand that stand-up comedy is an entirely different animal. When you make videos, you are insulated from the energy, positive or negative, of an audience. With stand-up, you are up there alone facing that, and it can be daunting. You have to be able to read the energy of the crowd and connect with them.

Sometimes you may have a certain set in mind, but during your performance you are forced to make radical changes in order to satisfy the crowd in front of you. You have to be flexible, able to think on your feet, deal with hecklers, be aware of your facial expressions and body language, and master your timing. You also have to be aware of the laugh frequency of the audience and gauge your performance as you go along. It is not just about being funny. There is a science to it.

In order to perfect your craft, you need an environment in which you can practise and hone it. For stand-up comedians, the places to do this are comedy clubs. When you see an established American comedian deliver a one-hour set on cable, he or she has usually performed that material hundreds of times in comedy clubs across the country, fine-tuning their act as they go along.

Jamaica lacked such venues until last year, when Johnny established the Comedy Bar, which is held every Tuesday at 8 p.m. at 100, which is located at 100 Hope Road in Kingston. Every locally based comedian I can think of has performed there. Also, there is an open mic segment that is critical for aspiring comedians to share their material and practise their craft.

Stand-up comedians deserve respect. Support our local fraternity. What are you doing this Tuesday evening? Check out the Comedy Bar nuh.

- Michael Abrahams is a gynaecologist and obstetrician, comedian and poet. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and michabe_1999@hotmail.com, or tweet @mikeyabrahams