This month’s Laughter Factory might be the most surreal comedy gig I’ve ever seen. Not in the weird, cerebral, performance-art, trying to be surreal sense — this was straight, everyday, observational stand-up all the way.
But straight stand up-performed as if the world is about to end, and the assembled audience members have been trapped in this room against their will, destined to live out their final hours on earth together.
It wasn’t a packed crowd at Societe on Tuesday (August 18) night. But by the end of the evening it seemed everyone had their turn to shine. We were on a friendly basis with the murderous Finnish mute, the mysterious Russian bride, and the attention-seeking British man who always had a better punchline than the comic. And the confused cycling club who appeared to be out on an annual night out.
The blame and praise can largely be placed with Steve Harris who, in a clear state of mental disrepair decided he didn’t really need any material, or couldn’t remember it anyhow. So he turned to us for inspiration. When closer Peter White took to the stage he quickly realised the idea of keeping calm and carrying on was not an option.
There’s heckling. There’s audience participation. There’s call and response. There’s picking on the front row to fill a memory lapse or failed punchline.
This was none of those things. It was more akin to a communal catharsis. Group therapy. Ghost exorcism. It certainly didn’t feel like stand-up comedy as we know it.
If you caught the show on any other night, chances are you won’t know what I’m talking about. Wanton enthusiasm and journalistic hyperbole ran a-mock. But if you were one of the few dozen in the crowd that night, you’ll know what we shared. Laughs, for sure, too. A sense of danger, the unexpected, perhaps. The feeling the world is ending, even.
But we also shared something more than that — surprise. A signal. A shining example that even in today’s carefully crafted gig environment, comedy can be more than just a performance, but an exchange. Comedy in the UAE can be wild, loose, ungrounded — and truly communal.
PS — After the gig I ran into the three comics, shiftily staking out a corridor. Madonna's Vogue came on. I just had to ask them to strike a pose. That's how the (really quite spectacular) picture above happened.
• The Laugher Factory is at McGettigan's JLT tonight (Wednesday August 19) at 8pm and the Movenpick JBR tomorrow at 9pm (Thursday August 20). Tickets Dh140. I advise you check it out.