There’s two etiquette rules for live shows:
Oh, nevermind. Just one?
Okay. That’s fine, because it should be really easy to remember, then. Unless the performer engages you, you’re (in the words of Louis C.K.) “not welcome to speak.” The only noise coming outta your mouth should be laughter or singing along to the music (if there’s any). The more serious theah-tah (that’s Queen’s English for a play), performance of “Cat On A Hot Tin Roof” this week was a good example. Ironically, the actor couldn’t remain on the stage with the scathing surface of homophobic heckler insult slinging burning beneath his metaphorical cat paws.
He came all the way into the audience to physically let him know how he felt.
(No, not really. A girl can dream, though.)
While he didn’t take an air gun to his frontal lobe, he did give the disorderly dude a good shove. Then someone else dragged the intoxicated audience member out. Then the actor got fired. I’ve heard a lot about this. Although I’ve been to a couple, I’m generally too easily distracted and anxious to sit through a whole comedy show. But I’d never think the psychological ants in my pants were a sign to invite myself into the entertainment itself.
One good example of an I’d-like-to-see-but-haven’t-yet dude? You guessed it. After Louis C.K. was heckled at one show, he didn’t lose his cool. Like many good comedians can, he managed to turn it into gold by saying, “Thank you – but could you maybe wait to tell me that after the show?” and then going on a lengthy explanache that culminated in a list of professionals who shouldn’t be bothered while working:
“A pilot, ballerina, and… me. The three of us – leave us the fckk alone. So we can give you what you pay for.”
Excellent (*insert Italian finger-lip-kiss gesture thing*)
Indeed – many a miserable human comes from their depressed existence to these shows so they can laugh at jokes and forget their self-induced hells for an hour or two. So when one douche mistakes it for interactive improv, the rest of us feel gypped.
Unless you’ve come to see someone who can handle it like a boss.
If you know anything about me, you know you’re not gonna get out of a comedy article about example-setters without hearing about Russell Brand. After having seen him live, along with some of his past footage, Russell has a unique way of dealing with haters that’s like baseball. He’ll give them a few strikes of playful warning responses, and then you’d better watch out.
Example? At Messiah Complex, it was enough when he told a loud bacchanalian balcony chick, “Tourrettes is a disease, you know!” You can be diplomatic if they aren’t too bad. But somebody did get annoying at the DVD recorded version of the same show – and he took it up a notch. He invited the guy to talk to him after the show (much like Louis had pleaded with his attention-seeker), and essentially suggested – in the meantime – that he follow his conscience…
…and “Shu-uu-ut the fu—uuuu—uuck up!”
(The part they don’t show here, is where he kind of laughs afterward – as he proceeds to continue the show – and says, “The inconvenient thing about what just happened is that I was just about to compare myself to Ghandi…”) But, even those who do handle it like a boss, have their limits. Word of advice? Don’t keep pushing someone who’s got the following three traits:
1. High I.Q.
2. The ability to eloquently dismantle your personality.
3. A microphone.
Because this’ll happen:
(I could gleefully watch this on repeat with all the theater snacks I don’t eat)
As for the heckle-lite folks (drunk, unable to shoosh through a show, and asking him to repeat lines from Sarah Marshall or Arthur), he’ll simply point out how ridiculous the requests are by saying, “Oh. You’re quoting one of my movies…” (in the tone of a parent trying to sweetly deal with a child who doesn’t know better)
This fantastic approach works well because it’s not mean or dry – but it does make someone self-aware if they’re being stupid. The movie already happened, right? You’ve got the live entertainer right there – with “brand” new material he wants to share. Why live in the past? Enjoy the thing that’s happening right now so that you’ve got new experiences to talk about later!
Dave Chappelle experienced something like this. When he finally returned to the stage, everyone wanted to hear him say, “I’m Rick James, bitch!” You know, I think it’d be boring enough to go on tour and have to do the same one or two hour routine every night – with gusto. That involves a lot of acting because the delivery’s everything, right? So it must be even worse to have to hear the same things on top of all that, everywhere you go, and have people start a conversation with you while you’re trying to do your job. I’d have to be putting on a real act to be that patient for that long.
Is this a comedy show or a football game? He was trying his hardest to connect with the audience, but if you show one fan attention, everyone else thinks they’re entitled to be loud assholes too.
Here’s the thing. People pay a lot of money and most well-seasoned comedians can balance managing hecklers with entertaining us. But why should they have to? On the one hand, I love to see my favorite performer put dumbasses in their place so they maybe are ashamed enough to stop drinking past the point of self-control. On the other hand, it’s annoying for them and ruins their timing. These people worked really hard all their lives to book gigs and make a name for themselves. And that name is not yours. You can fact-check me by looking at your ticket. So, remember:
1. You’re not special.
2. No one came to see or hear you tonight.
3. God wants you to “shut the fu—uuuu—uck up!”
(and enjoy the show!)