RECOMMENDED

If alcohol did not exist, sketch comedy would have to invent it. I arrived at this brilliant insight sitting alone at a cabaret table on a Sunday afternoon watching the charming duo of “Gretchen and Regina” deliver a set of clever, funny songs about romance and heartbreak to a roomful of Sketchfest patrons swigging PBR Tallboys. (Three dollars at the lobby bar and from hawkers standing on coolers amidst the crowd lining up for the next show. The festival’s organizers are clearly a mile ahead of me in the revelation department.) It didn’t help my increasingly parched brain that Hillary Williams—apparently there is neither a Gretchen nor a Regina—systematically drained one cocktail after another between songs as part of her act. If Hillary’s character is “the drunk,” her partner, Emily Claiborne, is the guitar-strumming boyish “lesbian,” which informs their dialogue more than their songs, I recall. Though their casual banter sometimes seems a bit clunky, they’re actually quite endearing, as are their folky songs. I bet they’re even funnier if you’re drinking along. Read the rest of this entry »

Photo: Robert Trachtenberg

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At some point in Jeff Garlin’s free-wheeling stand-up comedy routine, he announces, “I’m the world’s most comfortable comedian. Not the world’s funniest, which is what you want, but the most comfortable.” That’s about right. Garlin’s show is less “show” (as he makes pains to point out more than once), and more like hanging out with him, at a dinner party or something. He tells stories—vignettes drawn from his life as comedian, TV star and, most significantly, someone with an eating addiction. (He’s also diabetic and new medicine, on opening night, led to spontaneous burps that he managed with reasonable grace.) Most hinge, not on punch lines, but on ironic turns or, often, just in his way of telling, in his timing. He bounces from story to story, as if he’s making it all up as he goes along, starting a tale, getting distracted, telling another and circling back, occasionally consulting a “set list” he’s got stashed behind his plastic jack-o’-lantern filled with water. His stories are not political, or connected to current events at all, and he’s careful not to lean too heavily on his experiences on Larry David’s “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” which is smart, since I imagine most of the audience members, like me, are fans of the HBO show and in doing so he keeps us hungry for more. Read the rest of this entry »

Tom Flanigan, Tim Baltz, Beth Melewski, Brendan Jennings, Christina Anthony, Mary Sohn

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If there is one reason to see Second City’s thirty-fourth revue on the e.t.c. stage, his name is Brendan Jennings, one of the newer writer-performers in the cast who makes his presence known with a good-natured mania that is impossible to ignore.

Of the many talents who’ve worked on Second City’s stages in recent years, Jennings seems the most suited for “Saturday Night Live.” Whether that’s in his future is another matter, but Jennings has a lot of qualities that work well on TV. There’s an inherent sweetness to his comedy and, like Will Ferrell, he has enough personal charisma to play it broad—almost too broad—and still keep it interesting.

He doesn’t display much versatility, but he has the loose physicality of a frat-boy party animal, and a real knack for the comedy of humiliation. I will not soon forget his primal scream of rage as he stood dressed in a pair of Daisy Dukes hiked up his butt crack, wailing about his miserable life. Jennings screams like a girl, a trait that is both hilarious and a clever bit of comedy; you are always on his side, no matter how ridiculous and ass-cheek-exposing that side may be. Read the rest of this entry »

Photo: Jane Nicholl Sahlins

By Dennis Polkow

“If Aristophanes were alive today,” says an elderly but still twinkling Bernard Sahlins, “he would be on cable television.”  It may a seem a long way from the satirical ancient Greek playwright to the Second City some two-and-a-half millennia later, but Sahlins, a founder of Chicago’s legendary comedy troupe who is directing a production of “Lysistrata” this weekend, puts the timeframe in perspective: “Long before Second City, when I was directing ‘straight’ plays, including the Greek tragedies, Claudia Cassidy [then Chicago Tribune critic] wrote that I had directed the worst production in 2,000 years.”  Well, she ought to know.

Sahlins says that he has always been interested in Greek drama, a love that was in part fostered by his time studying the classics at the University of Chicago, where he graduated in 1943.  “A University of Chicago education was once described as ‘Casting imaginary pearls before real swine.’ But don’t use that.

“You know, the high point of Greek drama only lasted for about eighty-six years. The period of Sophocles, Euripides, Aeschylus and Aristophanes passed quickly and then there was nothing except street theater until the Middle Ages and the development of church plays. The era of the playwright, the individual dramatist, did not emerge again until the Renaissance and the phenomenon of the playwright as we think of it is a fairly modern phenomenon that really fully came about in the nineteenth century.” Read the rest of this entry »

Andy St. Clair, Brad Morris/Photo: Bob Knuth

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If the comedy revues at Second City hew to a familiar pattern, it’s for a purpose. I don’t always agree with that purpose, but the theater just reached its fiftieth anniversary, so something’s working.  The company’s latest mainstage show may not be its strongest, but it is worth seeing for two reasons: Brad Morris and Andy St. Clair.

“Taming of the Flu” feels especially traditional in its Second Cityness. (Longtime director Mick Napier is at the helm.) This isn’t humor that comes from uncomfortable introspection. The material and its execution is standard stuff. Ultimately it’s up to the cast to differentiate their show from years past and, on that score, Morris and St. Clair do most of the heavy lifting.

I barely noticed Morris three years ago when he joined the mainstage. It can take a little while for performers to figure out where they fit in, and Morris sorted things out by the time he hit the stage in 2008’s “No Country for Old White Men.” Read the rest of this entry »

RECOMMENDED

It’s mostly inaccurate to label Bill Cosby as a “stand-up comedian” anymore. First off, no way in hell is he going to be standing—the 72-year old understandably plops himself into a chair for his shows. Second, Cosby doesn’t fit the traditional mold of stand-up’s set-up/punchline structure—he’s more of a storyteller with humorous tangents and an overtly slurred delivery. (Here’s part of a joke, transcribed verbatim, he told on the “Late Show”: “I remember, 47, uh, two years ago, I swear, they came, they came. We we we we we—our children—we we we want, we want a dogggg.”) That said, even as a temperamental, grumpy old geezer who keeps making controversial comments about socioeconomic issues, Cosby’s still kind of a goofball, certainly capable of inducing fits of laughter, even if it is after dredging up clips of his New Coke ads. (Andy Seifert)

November 14 at Genesee Theatre, 203 N. Genesee, Waukegan, (847)782-2366. $39-$75.

RECOMMENDED

The always-caustic Dave Attell brings his ubiquitous cigarette and smooth, soothing baritone to Lakeshore Theater, where his scathing wit and bizarrely contentious comments will take center stage. While many will remember Attell for his late-night Comedy Central series “Insomniac with Dave Attell,” which consisted of Attell roaming around the nightlife of a city, engaging in what most of us do during a night on the town (drinking incessantly while teasing those more intoxicated than ourselves), he appears to thrive best in a stand-up role. Hardly a drunken buffoon who blathers sex jokes all set long, Attell has developed a set rife with non sequiturs, curveball punchlines and just plain silliness. Like his take on global warming: “The ice caps are melting. But maybe there’s some pretty cool shit under those ice caps, like treasure, or even better, a talking dinosaur, who we can all have adventures with. Me first, I thought it up.” (Andy Seifert)

November 6 and 7 at Lakeshore Theater, 3175 N. Broadway, (773)472-3492. $34.50.

RECOMMENDED

Drunken, obscene and kind of a jerk, Australian comedian Jim Jefferies offers the three most enduring qualities of a successful stand-up (along the fourth-most: funny accents!). While part of his current popularity stems from a well-reported incident at a Manchester gig in which he was punched in the face by an apparently not-amused spectator, we’ll assume he’s stayed near the top of the stand-up ladder with consistently funny sets. Whether he’s defending the double standard of men called “studs” for having sex a lot while women are called “sluts,” or casually discussing the lump on his penis (or as he calls it, “dick cancer”), Jefferies is the kind of guy who’s just looking to stir up a little trouble, get in people’s faces, maybe even provoke someone to jump on stage and start beating on him. And honestly, don’t you want to watch someone who elicits reactions like that? (Andy Seifert)

October 16 and 17 at Lakeshore Theater, 3175 N. Broadway, (773)472-3492. $15.

RECOMMENDED

Jeffrey Ross strikes me as the type of guy who wakes up at 2pm, peeks out his tour bus, mutters, “Damn, we’re in Chicago already ” then goes about his usual routine: making a good living by mercilessly ripping on people. When I saw him last year at Zanies, he looked disheveled, eyes bloodshot, a disgusting neck beard outlining his chin, basically in the sort of physical state someone would be if their wife just left them. And yet, the whole charade actually enhanced Ross’ insult-ridden set, as if saying, “Yeah, I’m a pathetic schmuck, but if I’m totally owning your ass, then what does that make you?” Currently serving as the New York Friar’s Club “Roastmaster General,” Ross can be frequently seen roasting the pants off of whoever’s the man or woman of honor (usually some loser like Chevy Chase), and while those shows put his biting sarcasm front and center, they don’t show just how sharp and quick Ross is with a live audience. Sure, the dude’s crude, disrespectful and crass—but in an intelligent sort of way. (Andy Seifert)

October 14-15 at Zanies, 1548 N. Wells, (312)337-4027.

RECOMMENDED

Personally, I find David Cross the actor to be more consistently funny than David Cross the stand-up, who can tend to meander in vitriolic tangents with few jokes. His tenure on the now-defunct (but beloved) “Arrested Development” spurred the classic Tobias Funke character, a flamboyant actor/psychological analyst and therapist (a self-proclaimed “analrapist”) who’s oblivious to his own homosexuality. And his work with Bob Odenkirk on “Mr. Show” represents the closest America came to emulating a Monty Python-esque sketch show—full of delightful non-sequitirs and ludicrous characters. That said, when he gets all riled up, Cross’s stand-up rountine can be infectiously crude and crass, as he possesses the uncanny ability to chew out those who deserve a tongue-lashing, like his analysis of post-grunge acts Staind and Creed: “I would rather hear the death rattle of my only child than listen to that fuckin’ shit.” That is a spot-on critique. (Andy Seifert)

October 4 at Congress Theater, 2135 N. Milwaukee, (312)458-9668. $37.50.