The local comedy club had a comedy class and it was revealed later that it was mandatory if you wanted to work at the club. I was going regardless, but a lot of people wondered what a class like this would entail. Would it try to sway the way we write jokes? Would it try to brainwash us? Would the lunch be satisfactory? These were just a few of the inquiries that were floating around before the date of the class. I just wanted to go over some things that I got out of a class of this nature.
The class was ran by comedian Cory Michaelis. I’ve known him for several years, and he is a former teacher turned comedian. That background helped him build a class to teach those looking to give comedy a shot. The class he was teaching us was a bit more advanced. What I thought was really cool was how, at the very start of the class, he told us that he was not assuming to be an expert, just someone that through experience as a teacher and comedian, could deliver it in a fruitful way. That is how I run this blog. I am not a big time comedian, just a guy that has seen a lot of stuff and wanted to share that information. I think a lot of people were wondering what gave him the right to teach a class when he doesn’t have whatever credit needed to be seen as a “real” comedian. He was headlining the club this past weekend, but I got the feeling that a lot of people wanted appearances on late night and stuff like that.
He started off with the simple stuff. Premises, punchlines, tags. The stuff that people claim to know about, but when you ask them about it they don’t have a firm grasp of these concepts. We saw videos of people using techniques that were taught, giving you thorough understanding of each thing taught. He then went into hosting, and asked for any questions. I thought it was a great class and I took away quite a lot of information.
I am always trying to write more material. I got a couple of tips on how to make that happen more than just those eureka moments. I learned more about hosting (one of my many weak areas), and what is required of a good host. I was able to see techniques applied to actual jokes, and I learned a lot more about why my emails probably were not getting answered. All in all I think it was worth my money.
Sadly, I also learned some not good things from this comedy class and it has nothing to do with the club, or the teacher. Spokane, like I have said before, is pretty much an island when it comes to performers. We are here with no other large cities around for hundreds of miles. That means that a lot of people have a warped sense of where they are in the grand scheme of the comedy landscape. Before the new club came to town, if you just kept doing alright for a couple of months, you could get paid to perform. That means that we have a lot of people who have only been doing this for a couple years that have gotten paid and now they think they can take on the world. When the club came to town a lot of those same people wondered why they were not getting the same work, and instead of turning the critique inward, looked out and tried to find the reason for these failings elsewhere. When the class was announced a lot of people chimed in that it was fishy because it was aimed at comedians. Not thinking that maybe it was the club’s way of saying that we were not up to the standards that they are looking for, and that the class could help. When it became known that the class was needed in order to work a the club, you got a lot of defiance. This perplexed me. As some one who has had to sit through orientations and training meetings, it is not unheard of to ask your employees to sit down and see what is required of you.
I was asked why I, a comedian of 12 years, would attend a class on comedy and I think the answer should have been obvious. I am not an expert at comedy. I don’t know every single thing there is to know about comedy, so I want to know as much as possible in order to become better. To see fellow comedians look at it not as a chance to get better, but as an attempt to get $25 dollars from them (the discounted price to attend, from $125), seemed short sighted and pretty egotistical. To assume that you need no direction because you have been paid, or have been doing it for some time is just a weird thing to me. How do we get better as artists if we don’t sharpen our skills? How do we move from just getting paid every so often, to having comedy pay our bills, if we are not trying every thing possible to make it happen. I also think that getting upset over the date (the weekend before the 4th) or the cost, or the fact that it was mandatory, was just a cover for something larger. Comedians are some of the most sensitive people I have ever met, and any affront to their ability to make people laugh is an affront to them and their very being. So to some, to have someone come in (mind you someone that has a successful club that is one of the best in the nation), and tell them they need to work on their comedy is a slap in the face, and that saddens me. It saddens me because I am a champion of a lot of the comedians in this city, and to see that they don’t want every little edge possible to be the best they can be is disheartening. It’s not the fact that the class cost money, someone had to spend their off time to teach it so it should cost something. It’s not the fact that it is a class. We take classes for all sorts of other things and pay way more money for it. It’s not that it was mandatory. We have all worked places were we had to sit there and listen to someone tell us not to talk about our co worker’s tits, and to not steal the bandages (this was orientation for a job I had at the VA). It’s about comedians who do not want to admit that they can work on being better then they currently are. So, one of the biggest lessons I learned is that you can not drag people to their potential. The only career I can control is my own, so I will continue to write, perform, and get better.
Oh, and the pizza we got for lunch was pretty good.