Darrin Rose has a refreshing spontaneity as Gerry Dee’s bartender pal on the TV series Mr. D. And I’ve seen him do fine work in short and medium-length sets as a stand-up comic. But I wasn’t quite won over by Chasing Manhood, the full-length comedy show he’s currently touring across the country.
On the surface, it seems autobiographical. Rose says at the outset that he grew up in Oshawa in a household of men – his parents divorced when he was six months old (“It was all my fault,” he jokes) and his dad raised him and his older brother like wild animals. They were basically left on their own, with a lack of emotional nurturing.
This sounds like a terrific premise for a show: to explore how this unusual childhood helped form (or perhaps de-form) him as a man and ill prepare him for life in general (he was a bit of a comics nerd) and relationships with women – both in high school and later on.
But Rose hasn’t shaped it so the jokes resonate with the broader themes. And he hasn’t dug deeply enough into the material. I sense him pulling back, not wanting to go to darker places – or at least give us more details. Yet the show screams out for it.
In fact, Chasing Manhood feels most exciting in those few moments when Rose works against his affable onstage presence, suggesting a wicked streak of anger: finally getting back at his brother, who routinely punched him in the face or having the last laugh when the 14-year-old girlfriend who dumped him got pregnant the next year.
Rose has solid bits (which I’ve seen before in comedy clubs) about the war of the sexes – including how to respond to the phrase “I love you” and how playing with Barbies and GI Joe dolls tells you a lot about gender socialization. But they feel shoe-horned into the show.
Another bit about his fear of dogs segues into a surreal sequence about raccoons: a beautifully crafted story that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the material.
If Rose continues to do theatre shows like this, I think he needs an editor or dramaturge, someone to help him shape the material and bring out its heart. What kind of solace did he find in those comics that he couldn’t find elsewhere? Why was studying the encyclopedia (the subject of another bit) so satisfying? Give us details.
He should also check out shows by Sandra Shamas and Mike Birbiglia: two performers who do autobiographical material in comedy clubs yet also shape those stories into shows with deep emotional centres.
Mark Little, who’s also part of the cast of the just-renewed Mr. D, could soon join Shamas and Birbiglia’s league. He was one of the opening acts recently at Yuk Yuk’s Downtown and proved, in two extended bits, that he’s one of the best comic storytellers around.
In some ways he deals with material that Rose mines: a nerdy childhood where he’s picked upon, bullied and finds solace in comics and fantasy. But he has learned to shape that material into something that feels fresh and honest.
Little’s story about attending a midnight screening of The Dark Knight was filled with vivid details: visually specific, charmingly self-deprecating and poetic. Describing the crowd’s feeling when a technical glitch stopped the movie to “air being let out of the most pathetic balloon” is simply brilliant.
Another story, about a surreal cab ride in an industrial neighbourhood in Toronto, went to places you don’t expect to see in a mainstream stand-up club, but Little made it work with his authority, presence and terrifically structured writing. Some comics do generic material not Little.
The headliner on the night I saw him was Sheng Wang, a Taiwanese-American comic who grew up in Texas but now lives in Brooklyn, New York. Obviously, I’m always interested in seeing Asian comics, simply because there aren’t many out there. Someone in the club said to me, “After a while you’re not even aware that he’s Asian.” Which I suppose was meant as a compliment.
True, Wang opened by talking about how comedy didn’t fit into his immigrant parents’ dreams and sacrifices for their son. But soon his act took on general observations – with a unique slant. How you can fart in a Goodwill store and blame it on the merchandise. How the word “munchies” is too cute to describe the feeling that hits after you’ve smoked weed (“it’s like saying he’s not a killer, he just had a case of the stabbies'”).
Wang’s material lacked segues and an arc, and on the night I went he didn’t pick up on a bit of audience participation. But he presented a master class in delivery. He takes his time with a joke (really… I was studying his breath control) and says the lines with complete authority.
When you combine that with a first-rate gag to end your set, that’s all you need. He’s got tons of charisma. Sheng Wang: remember the name. You’ll be hearing more from him.
