‘HA Festival: The Art of Comedy’ Review: Big Laughs in Short Segments
While the number of comedy specials on premium cable right now is enough to make you laugh, the product itself might not. And the setup has become formulaic: The comedian in question is introduced prepping for the big moment, walking to the theater, fretting in the green room, emerging on stage and being greeted by an absolutely rapturous crowd that is then shown laughing uproariously at even the lamest jokes. Especially after the lamest jokes. Editing is a magical thing.
The stand-up special as a phenomenon is probably providing life support for the entire art form, but it’s a lot to ask of a comedian—especially a young one—to do an entire hour’s worth of first-rate material. Which is one way in which HBO’s “HA Festival: The Art of Comedy” distinguishes itself from the rest of its ilk. Filmed in February on the final night of the live San Antonio festival, the hourlong special is intended to showcase rising Latino comedians, and ends up, perhaps inadvertently, championing women comedians specifically—Gina Brillon, Carmen Lynch and Monique Marvez are the most accomplished on the bill. All, however, are seemingly under the gun to make their mark and vacate the stage; a couple seem to be checking the warning light to see how much time they have. The departures may even seem a bit abrupt. But it’s a comfort to the audience: No matter how bad a performance might turn out to be, you know it’s going to be over soon. The flip side, of course, is leaving your audience wanting more. Which almost all of them do.
There’s not a bad performance on the special, although what “bad” means in comedy is a highly subjective thing. Clinically speaking, there are certain ingredients that seem present in everything that humans find funny. The element of surprise. The juxtaposition of the familiar and unfamiliar. “Tragedy plus time.” Kids, family, sex and aging. Exclusionary humor, the targeting of jokes at certain people at the expense of others, doesn’t inspire universal mirth, and that’s where the show seems to be headed at first. There’s an introduction featuring actor Danny Trejo and the show’s host, Anjelah Johnson, who do a self-effacing bit about the history of Latino comedy. Then Ms. Johnson takes the stage like the NFL cheerleader she once was, with a routine emphasizing the evening’s pro-Latino message. But it’s misleading: The jokes aren’t pro-Latino or anti-anything else. Once the regular comedians take the stage, the content becomes kids, family, sex and aging. And in the case of newcomer Pedro Salinas, algebra. It adds up to hilarity.
Among the things a viewer might notice, because the featured comedians are other than household names, is that the most successful standups among them arrive on stage with fully formed personae. It’s a rule of the comedy game: Hannah Gadsby and John Mulaney, to cite just two recently successful comedians (as well as polar-opposite personalities), are characters. Their characters are an essential part of the delivery system. When Ms. Brillon laments that parents can no longer make death threats against their misbehaving children (“I brought you into this world and I will take you out…”) everything from her posture to her sardonic twinkle makes it all OK. When the unassuming Jesus Trejo (no relation to Danny) talks about the trouble he has raising his parents—notably his pot-smoking mother—the deadpan manner with which he reverses parent-child dynamics makes the material itself even funnier. Ms. Lynch, perhaps the most fully realized comic entity on stage the night of the filming, is never in a hurry (despite the ticking clock), and always in control of her jokes—which, one has to admit, can be slightly appalling, though the delivery is charming. Likewise, Ms. Marvez, whose view on men and their “superpowers”—not caring, not listening—is represented with calibrated exasperation. And will amuse male fans as much as the women.
Comedy is always welcome, until it wears out its welcome. “HA Festival,” being as brisk as it is, never runs a risk of crashing into boredom, certainly, or even losing its way. There is a small taped tribute about midway through the special in which Eva Longoria introduces a tribute to Lupe Ontiveros, who died in 2012 and played, according to Ms. Longoria, more than 150 maid roles. The recorded comic bit starring Ms. Ontiveros is about as close as “The Art of Comedy” gets to taking ethnic umbrage with the entertainment industry, but it’s also too funny to miss.
By John Anderson
Link: https://www.wsj.com/articles/ha-festival-the-art-of-comedy-review-big-laughs-in-short-segments-11597781961?fbclid=IwAR3igHOgeN80bxheGkVkEvxxfBFoAksG_0M983Urr3GFFBNj4awfKl_rlNg