Hello? Is This Thing On?

Stop me if you’ve heard this one.

Three undergraduates walk into a bar—one from Emerson College, one from Boston University (BU), and one from Harvard. More specifically, they walk into The Comedy Studio on the third floor of the Hong Kong restaurant, where a handful of young comics are testing out their raw stand-up routines.

The students from Emerson and BU both do their schtick, but the Harvard kid merely listens politely. After an enjoyable evening of comedy, the three emerge on to Mass Ave. and go their separate ways.

Get it? Get it? Okay, that bombed. But it wasn’t meant to be humorous—just true.

For, while many Harvard students may make witty comments in section, few choose to share the laughs with an audience. Even fewer engage in solo stand-up performance.

Yet there’s a longstanding tradition of Harvard humor. Just look at the Lampoon, which has been supplying Hollywood with comedy writers for years. Or Conan O’Brien ’85, mentor to a generation of stand-up comedians. More importantly, Harvard Yard is situated across the street from a thriving comedy club that is a hotbed for the discovery of new comic talent.

Whether due to the prevalence of written comedy on campus or the attractive group mentality of improvisational comedy groups, the lonely practice of stand-up comedy is a rare art on campus. But that isolation—forcing unique and strange comedy acts that go beyond mere observational humor—just might be what makes Harvard stand-up interesting.

HA-HA HARVARD

“There really isn’t much of a scene,” says Cooper R. Bachman ’06, a stand-up comic who will be performing at this Saturday’s Demon ComedyFest.

The event, which will exclusively feature Harvard comics, is organized by Demon Magazine, an on-campus quarterly humor publication.

Akshay G. Lohitsa ’07, organizer and MC of the festival, agrees with Bachman. “I think that the reason there’s no stand-up comic scene at Harvard is that it hasn’t really been encouraged,” he says, referring to a lack of on-campus opportunities for performance comedy.

Nonetheless, the Demon ComedyFest will assemble those scattered members of the on-campus performance comedy community. Attendees of the festival will get to see an improvisational comedy group, a magician, and even a couple of rare stand-up comics.

Last year, the event took place in Sever Hall and attracted a capacity crowd of 200. To accommodate the festival’s growing audience, it moves to Science Center C this year.

Not coincidentally, the event is held during Prefrosh weekend. “Prefrosh seem to really like it because it’s cheap and it’s something to do that’s not drinking-centric,” says Lohitsa. “It’s something where they can laugh and have fun and meet other prefrosh.”

This event only comes once a year—and besides the occasional pub night, according to Bachman, it’s “only real stand-up on campus.”

WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH STAND-UP?

“The thing about stand-up is that it’s the easiest thing to break into but it’s the hardest thing to succeed in,” says David W. Ingber ’07.

Ingber has done the vast majority of his comedy performance off-campus, playing sets in bars and clubs.

Ingber will be one of the featured performers at the festival. However, he is not a traditional stand-up comedian.

“The basis of my routine is comedy songs,” says Ingber, who compares his work to that of musical comedian Stephen Lynch. “I’ve been writing those since I was like sixteen.”

In a song about being a porn star, Ingber sings: “The hours are flexible and so are my co-workers.” His material covers religion as well: “The Jews, we do it right / Our version of Christmas lasts eight nights.”

Ingber was featured in 2003 movie “The Real Cancun,” which was billed as the “first true reality feature film,” and it gave him a prime venue for two of his comedic ditties: “The 80’s Song” and “The STD Song.”

Constantly on the look out for a new joke, Ingber always travels with a pen, because “everyone says funny things in conversation, and anyone can capture them all.”

“The best comedians are the ones you identify with and have such a strong impenetrable persona onstage that you can’t see through it,” he says. He cites Dane Cook and Brian Regan as a couple of his favorite current comedians.

To get into the industry, Ingber says he feels that “you have to hold your own against some really talented, cutthroat people,” offering a possible explanation of why the stand-up scene is limited at Harvard.

Additionally, Harvard students keep busy. Ingber himself hasn’t had much time for comedy in the past three years due to his involvement with the a capella group the Din and Tonics and Hasty Pudding Theatricals.

IMPROV-MENTS

The real hotbed of performance comedy at Harvard are its extracurricular improvisational comedy groups, On Thin Ice (OTI) and the Immediate Gratification Players (IGP).

OTI—which specializes in comedy improv based around two-minute games à la TV’s “Whose Line Is It Anyway?”—will perform at the Demon ComedyFest.

One of OTI’s games allows onlookers to suggest excuses for a tardy office worker. An OTI member must guess the proposed explanations as acted out by another OTI member and an audience member. Frivolity (and usually scatology) ensues.

The group has been around since 1983, says member J.C. Cassis ’06, and performs “bimonthly on-campus or off-campus.”

New members must be chosen unanimously by those already on OTI, and go through a rigorous audition process, says Cassis.

According to Cassis, alumni from OTI commonly choose between two disparate occupational paths: entertainment and, surprisingly, education.

Among those who have succeeded in the former field are Rob J. Dubbin ’04, who currently writes for Comedy Central’s “The Colbert Report,” and B.J. Averell ’02, who is currently competing on CBS’ reality TV show “The Amazing Race.”

Even Cassis admits that stand-up is a terrifying prospect, best left to others.

“I’m actually scheduled to do a little stand-up at the Demon comedy festival,” she says. “I’m really scared so I think I’m just gonna write a song.”

On the other hand, the long-form brand of improv that IGP performs makes them unsuitable for the festival—their shows usually last 30 to 45 minutes. However, they will also perform in a separate show this Saturday night at 8 p.m. in Fong Auditorium.

“There’s no planning beforehand about how the scene will go,” member Jonah L. Kanin ’08 says, explaining the group’s performance process. “We just do scenes and whenever the people on the sidelines feel like it’s a good time to enter, they do.”

Kanin especially enjoys the feeling of camaraderie he finds on IGP. “If you say something crazy, you know they’re going to help you out,” he says. “It’s not competitive at all. We’re working together towards something.”

While it may seem as though the Harvard campus isn’t big enough for two improv comedy groups, Cassis maintains that there is no rivalry between the two organizations.

“We are really different groups,” she says. “A lot of us are friends with each other.”

USE YOUR ALLUSION

On the opposite end of the comedic spectrum at Harvard, stands Harrison R. Greenbaum ’08.

He doesn’t perform in a group, he doesn’t make jokes up on the spot, and—well, he’s not really a comedian. Greenbaum is, by training, a magician.

That training started early. “I’ve been doing it since I was five,” says Greenbaum. “People feel that the magic bug bites them, and once you get into it you can’t stop.”

Despite his inclinations toward magic, Greenbaum feels that comedy is a very important element of his stage shows. Although magic and comedy occupy “different worlds,” Greenbaum’s ultimate goal is to “bridge that gap.”

“Magic is weird and comedy is weird, and putting them together is even weirder.” Nonetheless, he says, “I want to be the guy that’s both.”

Unlike OTI and IGP, Greenbaum does comedy with a safety net. “Most of my jokes are already scripted and written in advance,” he says.

During performances, he says, “I go through a mental rolodex and pull out a joke that I need.”

Magicians have a major advantage over comics. “The magic gives me a sort of backup plan,” he claims. “When you’re a comedian and it’s just you and the mic, if the audience doesn’t like you you’ve got nothing.”

Greenbaum delivers a sample quip that sometimes opens his show. “My girlfriend—she doesn’t go to Harvard. But she’s a lot like Harvard. She’s expensive, well-endowed, and tough to get into.”

Fans of sleight of hand will be able to catch Greenbaum’s act at ComedyFest. They can also watch him at The Comedy Studio, a performance space on the third floor of the Hong Kong restaurant in Harvard Square.

SCORPION BOWLS AND STAND-UP

But while Greenbaum takes advantage of The Comedy Studio, few other Harvardians do.

“There’s so much for Harvard students to do,” says Rick Jenkins, who runs the Studio, which recently celebrated its tenth anniversary.

Producers from “Late Night with Conan O’Brien” have scouted a number of young comics at the Studio—which unlike the bar at the Kong, welcomes minors—some of whom went on to perform on the show.

Jenkins is especially interested in unearthing new talent. “We’re very friendly to college students and new comics,” he says. Still, Jenkins won’t just let all comers on the Studio’s stage.

“I want them to watch a few shows or get me an audition tape so we don’t get shows worthy of the Elk Lodge nickel beer night,” he says.

Despite its convenient location in the Square, the club has been “difficult to find” for Harvard undergraduates, according to Jenkins. However, students from other area schools often perform at The Comedy Studio.

Emerson College has an especially close connection with The Comedy Studio. It offers a comedy-writing class that requires students to perform stand-up at the Studio as a final project.

Harvard hasn’t always eschewed stand-up for a scorpion bowl at the Kong. B.J. Novak ’01, who is currently working as a writer, producer, and actor on NBC’s “The Office,” performed frequently at the Studio as a Harvard undergraduate. Jenkins said that his club also featured Daniel A. Mintz ’02, who is currently pursuing a career in comedy.

Jenkins feels that the current dearth of stand-ups at Harvard may be due in part to the emphasis on comedy writing. “There’s much more of a history of literary humor than stand-up,” Jenkins says of Harvard. “A lot of terrific writers come out of there.”

Lohitsa of the Demon is inclined to agree. “I can tell you that not many of the Demon people would be good at performing,” he says. “The same probably goes for the Lampoon.”

He also suggests that many performers at Harvard just don’t see stand-up as a viable career option. After all, it’s not necessarily lucrative.

“There’s a lot of people that believe that going into performance comedy isn’t as fruitful as, say, musicals or movies,” he says.

ALWAYS PROVIDE ALCOHOL

Meanwhile, Ingber is busy ensuring that at least some Harvard students carry on Harvard’s modest tradition of performance comedy.

At a recent performance in Winthrop’s Junior Common Room, Ingber resembled nothing short of a modern day Tom A. Lehrer ’47, GSAS ’66, reviving the great 1950’s humorist’s satirical songstylings.

Ingber’s songs poked fun at the hypocrisy of rock stars, Facebook users, and non-conformists. Chatter in between songs gave him a chance to amuse the audience with his stand-up. He advised fellow students looking for summer jobs to avoid using “sexyassholebitch@yahoo.com” as their reference email address.

His show, which immediately followed Winthrop Stein Club, wisely followed the cardinal rule of comedy: always provide alcohol to the audience.

An estimated 100 people turned out to support Ingber, who is happy with the turnout.

“Many of them were my friends who I personally invited, but a substantial chunk of the audience were people who heard about a comedy show and decided just to come check it out,” he writes in an email.

So after receiving some tips from the pros, let me try again.

So what’s the deal with that Annenberg food? I mean, who do I have to blow to get the soft serve working, am I right?

Thanks folks. I’ll be here all week.