Essentially it's about an ex- stand-up comedian-turned-filmmaker Jordan Brady who's doing a documentary on stand-up, so he enlists the help of another ex stand-up, Ritch Shydner, who has written a book on the subject. They interview other comedians about the whole process and the comedy scene in general. Along the way, Ritch develops the itch to get on stage again after 14 years, and you watch as he shakes off the cobwebs and starts honing an act again (and struggles with some bigger questions as he goes).
There, I gave a synopsis anyway. I couldn't help it. Call it verbal diarrhea.
What's really interesting about the film is that it's such a open and honest piece (and frank too, so if vulgarities bother you, then, uh, don't bother.) You get to see the bigger picture of what stand-up is about. The drugs and sex, the boredom and neurosis, the culture of performing, etc. etc.
What struck me is the underlying drive for these people, and it differs from person to person. For some, it's the rush of getting a laugh. For others, it's that, and the art of creating. Quite a few liken it to making music, the ebb and flow of notes and rhythms and the thrill/risk of presenting it to an audience.
It makes me think of the correlations in my life. I have always had a passion for music, which lead me in my late teens to participate in starting a band, even though I was lacking in real vocal talent. This then lead me to running sound for bands, which I did for years, but again I lacked the talent (and drive) to do it on a bigger level.
Then years later, helping in reforming the band again, and finding myself deep in the process of it; creating, growing... and struggling with it too.
You struggle with the balance of it. Balancing your need to create with your desire for acceptance and maybe even adulation. The desire to write a hit, something catchy and accessible — and trying to see if you even can; if you even have the talent, and if your voice and your need to remain true to yourself will come together with that talent to make that possible.
It's something I struggled with terribly in the second version of my band. There was this exploding scene that we were lucky enough to get involved in, and a big part of me craved the icing on the cake, so to speak. I wanted to be able to write catchy songs, to be able to sing like my idols, to be able to really voice my passion. For me, the passion won out in the end. I can't say I wrote any hit-like songs, at least not in my mind. Not songs that made people cheer, or sing-along, or dance (or mosh, to use and old-school term). I dunno, maybe some will disagree with what I'm saying, but truthfully, I can't say we were popular or successful on a bigger level. We had respect, but it wasn't like we had dozens of screaming fans at each gig.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm proud of what I created. But the struggle is still — to this day — in my mind. You create something and then see what wins out: artistic integrity or the desire for affirmation or adulation. It's the very fortunate (and very few) that get both.
In this film there's a distinct moment where the guy is trying to sum up what it's like to get back on stage again after 14 years. He realizes that, at his age, he has to determine if it's worth it.
Is it worth going back to the scene and the lifestyle — to put his existing life as he knows it into storage and deal with the crappy pay; the unhealthy road food; the boredom of long days doing nothing until you get 5 minutes, or ten minutes or whatever; the urge to use chemicals to help you cope (or create) and the consequences of that choice — and the whole risk/reward thing when you begin to create again and run the chance of either applause or rejection (or worse, heckling).
Isn't it the same thing for most people? Who doesn't enjoy making people laugh? But so few of us have the ability (or drive) to do it as a lifestyle choice. And even if we did, we'd then run up against the age-old question that every person who creates runs into: "Am I any good?"
I guess what I'm trying to say on a deeper level about this documentary (in such a rambling, stumbling-and-bumbling manner) is that after watching this film, it struck me that there's a thread that runs through every story of a person who feels a need to create: how much do I need it and how far will I go to feed that desire? And of course, will I suck?
Also, it didn't hurt that there was some funny s**t in it too.
