Nightmares and Mirror Mazes

Standup comedy into a camera at home is like having a surreal dream about doing standup comedy to an empty room. I thought it was the worst until last night when I saw the future.

The future is in hybrid gigs - at least until we can figure out as a species how to 20 second test for covid or vaccinate against it. And I’m fine with that idea - a socially distanced room, and some sort of cheaper live-stream-at-home option.

It’ll be super interesting to figure out the nuances of performing to the people in the room, while also keeping the people at home engaged - not shutting them out. Of course, we’re always more driven to satisfy the people directly in front of us, and it’s fascinating to factor in the people ‘through the camera’ who will likely vastly outnumber the people present, but whose reactions you can’t see, hear, or in that difficult-to-describe-way, ‘hold’ as you do when they’re in the room.

So last night, in the pouring rain on a Monday, I did a lineup show with 12 people in the room (i’d figured for 20 in the space but crew and comics plus organisers made the actual audience 12) and 800 people watching on twitch.

Which was advertised as ‘you’re welcome to heckle’.

I don’t know if you know, but twitch audiences don’t really need encouragement to go their length in the being awful department. They’re safe at home, and you’re a little muppet on a screen and they can’t really think of you as a real life person with real life feelings that have an impact on them. We all know the psychology of online road-rage. People watching something at home are in an emotional bubble - a sealed cone of silence that they feel they must scream to penetrate, if they want to be heard. Added to which, this experimental gig didn’t have mods in the comments section, so you can imagine. I didn’t have to imagine, I could see it on the screen at the side of the stage.

So, structurally speaking 800 people watching for free* at home are encouraged to heckle while they watch you struggle to unify 12 damp, chilly and socially distanced people who are not amplified by a mic, so even if it feels okay in the room it looks like everything is falling apart. Even worse the 12 wet sweethearts can see the screen on the side of the stage where free range cockheads talk about punching you in the tits.

A RECURSIVE NIGHTMARE.

Whew. What a night. I stayed up til 4am listening to an audiobook and now I feel better. I guess I did get into comedy for the failure in the first place, so I can’t exactly complain (although that’s what I am doing, so ...)

Do share the bits of my work that you like with your friends, though. The more lovely people in the world who I can do my work for, and the fewer bubble wrapped teen-monkey-minded proto-sociopaths, the better.

Xx

A

* we can talk about the mechanics of how exactly free gigs bring out the worst in people another time