By Dave Mangene
When the Pilgrims left England to start a new life in 'America' (or got kicked out, depending on who you talk to), they didn't know much about starting a new 'nation'.
All they had was an idea.
Granted, it was a big idea - you know, about justice, democracy, and equal rights. That kind of thing.
But these Pilgrims/lunatics weren't too sure how to execute the grand ideas. There was no script to follow. They were making it up as they went along.
But they had immense faith in their idea and, for the most part, they were right.
The idea turned out to be a story with legs. It kept running all the way to America becoming America. Along the way there has been much improvisation, much experimentation, more than a few devastating fuck ups, and yet, the idea has continued to grow. America, mother of all ideas, is still standing.
What does this have to do with comedy?
Lots.
Stand-up comedy isn't just an art form that was made famous in America, stand-up comedy is America.
Consider this: one day back in the 20th century, some guy, probably a club owner of some sort, said "I'm sick of all this sugary, gimmicky, non-funny, scripted comedy. We need something new. Something fresh."
Imagine you had been sitting next to the bar owner guy, sipping your moonshine, at the time. You'd then ask "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"
His eyes would slowly scan the room, stopping at a wall of exposed brick, a flat expanse of floor located just in front of it. "Well shit, I could just put a microphone right there" he'd say, pointing to the brick wall, "and invite a bunch of guys to come and tell stories about their crazy lives!"
Right.
You mean create something from nothing, with little to no precedent, without a real plan, just because you wanna try something new?
Boom! Exactly.
And so it goes.
Stand-up comedy is, in many ways, the quintessential American art form. It is comprised of sensitive, insecure, and intelligent people, many of whom represent one or all of America's ethnic minority or immigrant communities, telling a truckload of jokes, randomly, to a room full of strangers who most definitely are involved in the act, willingly or otherwise. It's about improvisation and interaction, it is free of any elaborate decor, music, theatrics, or even a noticeable plot. There is no pomp and circumstance, no pretension. It's a free fall, an experiment. There is no safety net. If a comedian fails to get laughs, he will fall hard. He will be heckled and chased from the stage. It can be exhiliratingly beautiful or grotesquely ugly. You never know what you're gonna get.
Which, obviously, is a perfect description of the United States. Small wonder the American contribution to comedic pop culture includes Lenny Bruce, Andy Kaufman, George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock, Sarah Silverman, Amy Schumer, Dave Chapelle, Elaine Boozler, Bill Hicks, Jerry Seinfeld, Daman Wayans, the whole Wayans family, Johnny Carson, David Letterman, Jimmy Fallon, and the late great Robin Williams.
The Dutch, always open to foreign influences, have embraced 'American' stand-up comedy, but like McDonalds and Netflix, it will never be 'one of theirs'.
Sure, there are a handful of Dutch comedians who can throw down some stand-up, but the truest public expression of Dutch humor is to be found in the sacred art of cabaret. Cabaret, to the Dutch, is not a line of chorus girls in feathery costumes as in Liza Minelli's hit film, 'Cabaret' from 1972.
Dutch cabaret is a form of cutting comedic satire laced with acerbic wit, a recognizable plot line, social commentary, a bit of piano playing, a song or two, and maybe even some theatrical antics. It is a thoroughly planned, scripted, comedic monologue (even when its absurdist cabaret such as Waardenburg en de Jongh often did). The audience does not participate (mostly). There is little improvisation. Cabaret is smart. Witty. And, at its very best, it will make you laugh hard. Some of the best 'cabaretiers' are Youp van 't Hek, Wim Sonneveld, Freek de Jonge, Brigitte Kaandorp, and Jandino Asporaat.
The vibe of cabaret, though, is not one of an unexpected roller coaster ride. Instead, it's an intelligent, controlled journey through the perils of society and life on the planet earth. Good cabaret will give you pause to reflect, consider, and improve the state of humanity. Or not. You choose. Which, not surprisingly, is as Dutch as you can be.
Stand-up American style, when done well, will rattle your bones. It will excite you, inspire you, enfuriate you, disgust you. In the end though, it will leave you feeling that you have experienced something fresh, something new.
And what could be more American than that?
~ DAVE.
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