It was a 1pm comedy show. Rare! On a Sunday. Even rarer! And it was still packed out. That’s how you know you’re in the presence of skill and craft and greatness. My wife and I, along with a couple friends, went to this show and, let me tell you, it was 75 straight minutes of good, clean comedy and good, clean laughter. The show featured two staples in the Hawai’i comedy scene, Andy Bumatai and Augie T. Andy, whom I’ve mentioned before on this site, is basically the godfather of stand-up in Hawai’i.
I’ve had the honor of opening for Andy twice in recent months. The man is a seasoned pro. I had never seen Augie T live before, but I’ll say this: I get why the man draws crowds. I get why people come early and stay late. The dude’s funny enough to make the Duke Kahanamoku statue laugh and then tip him on the way out of Waikiki. Both Andy Bumatai and Augie T killed during this show. And while they each did their own sets, there were several things about both that I noticed. So, while they didn’t perform at the same time as one another, I’m going to share some insight into several things both of them did that worked well.
The first thing they nailed was the joke writing. Most of them were not generic, universal jokes that could be performed anywhere and land with a polite chuckle. These were local jokes. I mean local local jokes. Deep cuts. Names of neighborhoods, aunties, and places you only know if you’ve lived here long enough to complain about the cost of spam. They weren’t afraid to go hyper-specific. You either got the joke or you didn’t, and if you didn’t, you laughed anyway because the energy pulled you in like a riptide at Sandy’s.
The second thing they nailed was energy. These guys were moving. Andy’s 71 and Augie’s in his 50s. But they kept going. Like Fitbit going. They were performing with their whole bodies. Bending, twisting, pacing, pointing. It was like stand-up and interpretive dance had a funny baby that you couldn’t quit looking at. They did find those little breaths between punchlines to let the crowd recover for a minute, but not too long. That’s not hyperbole either. They kept it going strong for over an hour.
Third, they had fun. You cannot fake fun or at least do a good job at faking fun. If the performer’s not having a good time, neither is the audience. It’s like when your waiter is mad at you for existing and suddenly the fries don’t even taste right. But when the performer is clearly loving it, the whole crowd typically will, too. Their having fun was contagious. It spread like wildfire, except we were laughing instead of evacuating.
Fourth, they worked the crowd like seasoned pros. Lots of eye contact. Lots of pointing and nodding and calling on people. Augie T bent over several times to talk us in the front row. But that’s the beauty of it. You felt seen just like he did. You felt part of it. They didn’t just talk at us. They talked to us. It was like being in a living room with two hilarious uncles who brought their best material and got you involved.
I heard a story recently from a friend, about a very prominent figure behind the scenes in comedy. He helped launch some of the biggest names out there, Chappelle included. When he gets demo tapes, he watches the first thirty seconds with the sound off. If the comic isn’t visually engaging enough to make him want to turn the sound on, he doesn’t bother. That’s brutal. That’s the kind of feedback that makes me shudder when I think about all the people you’ve sent demo videos to.
But it’s also a brilliant filter. And it hit me. I can be engaging. I’ve been preaching, teaching, and presenting for years. When I get fired up, I move. I animate. I go full TED Talk on caffeine. But I’ve got to tap into that more in my comedy. Presence matters. Movement matters. Being laid back is great until your performance starts to resemble a substitute teacher or youth pastor reading a PowerPoint.
That show was a masterclass. It reminded me that people remember energy. They remember joy. They remember when it feels like the comedian was talking directly to them, even if they were one of two hundred. So yeah, I walked out of there laughing and thinking and a little humbled. Also, I had Panda Express later, so, a great day. But I’ll leave it at this, a point which stands for comedy as much as any other profession: if you want to be better in your craft or line of work, go see better. Watch how the greats do it. Then go back, put your signature spin on it, and do it your way.