Broken Comedy

The three high school girls behind us were howling. So were the 20 Peace College students in the first few rows, and so was this guy to my left who had a lazy eye, three front teeth and more than a little spittle running down the right side of his chin. Of course, I don't know these people personally, but from the mere fact that they were so enamored with the improvisational techniques of the company members at Comedy Worx (yes, they replaced "works" with "worx," and yes, it's tacky), I can say with relative assurance that they are walking representatives of the fall of western civilization.

At Comedy Worx the performers' improvisational style is reminiscent of that found on Whose Line is it Anyway?, and when one ponders what makes that type of comedy work, a sense of inventiveness immediately comes to mind. The audience member wants to be taken in directions that are completely unexpected, and the journey should be, at the very least, a witty one. Having seen The Groundlings, probably the most widely respected of these groups, about a month ago, I learned to appreciate the great difficulty of improv, and I respected how the comedians were able to make each sketch enjoyable - even when they ran out of material and started poking fun at their own lack of creativity. Improv isn't about constant genius; it's about survival, and the Groundlings thrived under the circumstances.

No such comedic flexibility exists at Comedy Worx, though. Every joke is completely foreseeable, the comedians are not at all endearing, and they didn't even live up to the promise that their jokes would "tickle until we tinkle." Hell, I even brought an extra pair of pants just in case, but you tend not to laugh that much when the night's best joke consisted of one of the comedians leading the crowd in a cheer:

"Give me a 'B.' "

"B!!!"

"Ok, that's it."

The concept behind Comedy Worx, however, is a relatively harmless one. Two teams - in this case the Hillsborough Street Malamutes and the Durham Docks - face off in a comedic battle for points. The audience, with the help of a "referee," decides which side is performing with more comedic proficiency, as the performers stumble through a variety of guessing games where one company member has to discover what word the others are acting out. Instead of impressive improvisational comedy, these role-playing games make the company members look like the rejects at an Advanced Dungeons and Dragons role-playing tournament. And don't even get me started on the frighteningly sadomasochistic usage of the "Paddles of Justice" throughout the performance.

But we're still left with the question: Why were the other people in the audience having such a raucous good time? These are my only guesses: 1) Drugs-lots of 'em. 2) They were an easy-to-please (read: not-so-bright) bunch. When the referee asked for an adjective in one of their word-guessing games, one of the Peace College students yelled, "Tungsten," and nobody seemed to notice its distinctly not being an adjective. 3) They were brainwashed. In between almost every sketch, the referee made us scream that we were all "loyal fans," and before the show started, we were forced to sing a "warm-up song" whose lyrics, to the tune of "Take Me out to the Ballgame" read, "For it's HA, HA, HA HA HA HA/ As we laugh till we gag!"