Harry Freeman throws himself in at the deep end of stand-up comedy. By Harry Freeman
AT A few minutes past 4pm last Saturday afternoon I stepped into a room in Wonthaggi which was tightly packed with around thirty people. A buzz enveloped the room and everyone’s eyes turned to me expectantly. We had entered into an unspoken but clear contract: they had come to listen to me – and I had agreed to make them laugh!
Yes, I was about to launch my career as a stand-up comedian – or perhaps find out that it wasn’t my forte̒ after all.
AT A few minutes past 4pm last Saturday afternoon I stepped into a room in Wonthaggi which was tightly packed with around thirty people. A buzz enveloped the room and everyone’s eyes turned to me expectantly. We had entered into an unspoken but clear contract: they had come to listen to me – and I had agreed to make them laugh!
Yes, I was about to launch my career as a stand-up comedian – or perhaps find out that it wasn’t my forte̒ after all.
I looked round the room with as much confidence as I could muster and tried hard to concentrate on all the material I had been practising and all the tips I had picked up during a few weeks of intensive training. As I managed to tell my audience early on in my delivery, at that very moment I felt 50% encouraged to see such a large crowd and 70% terrified at the potential ordeal to which I had subjected myself. (I know that makes more than 100% but that’s exactly how it felt for me.)
That actually got my first laugh which helped relax me and from then on I managed to deliver the two routines I had been working on for several weeks as well as I could have wished for.
I even managed to deal with unexpected challenges in the form of two hecklers, one of whom had a striking resemblance to the editor of the publication you are reading at this moment!.
Why was I putting myself under this pressure? To some extent my answer is the same as the one famously given by George Mallory before he disappeared on Everest. Why was he climbing the mountain? “Because it was there.”
Well, I’m not brave or foolhardy enough to put my life at risk but, when the opportunity arose to explore the world of stand up, I found myself impelled to risk the possibility that I might die on stage in the theatrical sense. I knew that performing before an audience of friends invited by me and Christy (the other performer) gave me the best chance to test my abilities in a setting that was not too threatening.
My decision also had a good deal to do with the fact that in the past two years my two sons have started performing successfully at a couple of open mic venues in inner Melbourne. I like to think they’ve picked up some of their sense of humour from me so when the chance came to demonstrate my skills I felt a compulsion to test myself.
What did I learn from my experience? Most importantly, I learnt that if I put some effort into an endeavour, and have belief in my abilities, even under stress, I can produce a satisfactory outcome: an outcome which was entertaining for my audience (I’ve been told) and was (eventually) enjoyable for me.
I have also finally found a use for all the seemingly useless and unrelated pieces of trivia I have accumulated over the years. With some care, they can be woven into narratives to give them an unexpected twist.
I even managed to deal with unexpected challenges in the form of two hecklers, one of whom had a striking resemblance to the editor of the publication you are reading at this moment!.
Why was I putting myself under this pressure? To some extent my answer is the same as the one famously given by George Mallory before he disappeared on Everest. Why was he climbing the mountain? “Because it was there.”
Well, I’m not brave or foolhardy enough to put my life at risk but, when the opportunity arose to explore the world of stand up, I found myself impelled to risk the possibility that I might die on stage in the theatrical sense. I knew that performing before an audience of friends invited by me and Christy (the other performer) gave me the best chance to test my abilities in a setting that was not too threatening.
My decision also had a good deal to do with the fact that in the past two years my two sons have started performing successfully at a couple of open mic venues in inner Melbourne. I like to think they’ve picked up some of their sense of humour from me so when the chance came to demonstrate my skills I felt a compulsion to test myself.
What did I learn from my experience? Most importantly, I learnt that if I put some effort into an endeavour, and have belief in my abilities, even under stress, I can produce a satisfactory outcome: an outcome which was entertaining for my audience (I’ve been told) and was (eventually) enjoyable for me.
I have also finally found a use for all the seemingly useless and unrelated pieces of trivia I have accumulated over the years. With some care, they can be woven into narratives to give them an unexpected twist.
"I find my experiences have left me on a high and, inevitably, as any addict finds out, that leaves me wanting more." |
Having tapped the vein of comedy in my brain once, I can’t stop it from presenting me with fresh ideas, or “nuggets of comic gold” as I like to think of them. Since Saturday I’ve had very interrupted sleeps because if I give my mind half a chance it switches into stand-up mode and it’s off working out another sketch, or some refinement on material I’ve used already.
I find my experiences have left me on a high and, inevitably, as any addict finds out, that leaves me wanting more. I can’t seem to stop myself looking for the next opportunity to be “50% excited, 70% terrified”. I’ve already started working on a routine I intend to take to one of the bars my sons frequent in Brunswick.
I guess what I’m really finding out about myself is that I’ve been drawn into the life of a performer.
I find my experiences have left me on a high and, inevitably, as any addict finds out, that leaves me wanting more. I can’t seem to stop myself looking for the next opportunity to be “50% excited, 70% terrified”. I’ve already started working on a routine I intend to take to one of the bars my sons frequent in Brunswick.
I guess what I’m really finding out about myself is that I’ve been drawn into the life of a performer.