In Griffith's Comedians, No Pain Means No Gain

Anyone who has ever done stand-up comedy (or dated a comedian for that matter--sigh) knows that it's a very dark and bitter world, filled with competition, rejection, and self-doubt. Well--maybe that's an overstatement. Beneath the success of any comic however, lies years and years of open mics and failed auditions. Hopefuls flock to comedy clubs on off-nights and crowd the stage like cattle, performing their five minutes of material to crowds composed of mostly other comedians. All this is presided over by a hawk-like M.C. What keeps a person going is the distant, receding hope that tonight might be that lucky night in which you're "discovered."

Trevor Griffith's 1976 play Comedians,now playing at the Samuel Beckett Theater, has been sacked by some theater critics as "not funny" and "obsolete." That was not Griffith's intention, however; nor was it the vision of Scott Elliot, the play's director. This is a play about people who are not funny, and that is precisely why it captures with accuracy the sting of performance.

The play opens in a run down high school in Manchester, England, where the sage and dignified Eddie Waters (played by Jim Dale) gives a weekly workshop for would-be stand-up comedians. The set, from its worn, mismatched desks and pipe heating to the words "Fuck off nobhole" scrawled on the blackboard, transported me back to the detention room of my own public high school. On this evening, we find the group preparing for a performance in a near-by bingo hall--the culmination of all their hours of hard work. This performance is especially nerve-wrecking because of the scheduled attendance of Bert Challenor (David McCallum), a talent scout.

Mr. Waters, our hero, is naturally the last person to arrive to his class. In the meantime the audience is introduced to one bumbling caricature after another. There is the nervous, balding Phil Murray (Max Baker) whose constant discomfort in his own skin is accentuated by the tight blue suit he wears. Then there's George McBrain (David Lansbury) who essentially plays a drunk Neil Diamond bereft of the charm. Phil's younger brother Ged (Jamie Harris) is also in the class; he dons a broad grin and embraces the role of class dummy. Mick Connor (James Beecher) is a Jewish businessman whose desperate opportunism just further accentuates his lack of talent. Sammy Samuels (Alan Corduner) is the silver-haired sweetheart of the group who wants to succeed just like everyone else, but seems to be satisfied enough simply with the camaraderie of the class.

Gethin Price (Raùl Esparza) is the youngest member of the class. He is also the only character in possession of genuine talent, but has so much rage against the class system, the entertainment industry, and the state of his life in general, that his humor often takes a dark and unsettling turn. He is both Murray's pet and his worst nightmare.

When Mr. Waters arrives and the class begins, the tension between the two characters is apparent while Gethin pushes the envelope with raunchy limericks and an irreverent attitude. The disparity between Gethin's youth (exemplified by an impressive set of push-ups he does while gearing up for the bingo hall performance) and Waters' frailty emphasizes the generational gap. Gethin wishes to move past the over-rehearsed and under-inspired material of his class-mates and into a more experimental, cutting-edge brand of comedy, and he (at least in the first act) perceives Waters as holding him back.

Trevor Griffiths was very particular in the liner notes to Comedians that there be a clock mounted on the classroom wall, keeping real time. This is an ingenious device due to the fact that the events of the play occur over the course of two and half hours. Looking at the clock, you get the sensation that you are sitting at a desk amongst the actors, and you feel the same twinges of boredom or anticipation as you might in a classroom.

When the second act begins, the classroom is hidden behind a flashy red curtain--characteristic of most comedy clubs, though probably not of bingo halls--and the M.C. of the evening (Marcus Powell) garbles out his regrets (in what might be the only sincerely funny performance of the play) that "there will be a brief interval in the bingo." He addresses the audience while speaking and, as our class of characters delivers one miserable performance after another, you start to feel genuine irritation at having your bingo game interrupted.

That is, to say until Gethin delivers his monologue, during which space and time seems to halt. Sauntering onto the stage in white ghoul make-up and suspenders, Gethin begins a mockery of the traditional clown routine, miming his way through a bit involving a child-size violin and then juggling colored scarves. The most shocking part of the performance occurs when two larger-than-life paper mâché figures of a man and woman are pushed onto the stage and Gethin begins to antagonize them, saying to the man: "Eh. I bet she's a goer, int' she, sunshine? She's got a fair pair of knockers on her too. Has she been around? Does she ever go dancing at the Belle Vue on Saturdays?" Esparza is mesmerizing as he prances around in his own universe, utterly disregarding the audience and letting his pent-up rage lead him in wild and deeply disturbing directions, sometimes even into the rapid-fire gibberish of insanity.

It is from this moment that the play really begins. The entire first act seems anomalous and the other comedians superfluous. During the final scene, Gethin and Mr. Waters find themselves alone on stage and it becomes clear that what Gethin wants more than anything is Mr. Waters' approval. The play grapples with the problem of what is and is not funny--Mr. Waters tells his students to draw their material from the pains they experience in their own lives, but what happens when your pain is as great as Gethin's? More central to the play, however, is the feeling of entrapment that almost everyone encounters at some point in their lives. Griffith's answer? "Create."

Comedians is playing at the Samuel Beckett Theater of the Theater Row Complex, 410 West 42nd Street, until Sunday, Feb. 23.