Trevor Griffiths and Jimmy Jewel in rehearsal for the 1975 premiere production of Comedians. Photo: Nobby Clark.
UPDATE (18 November): I am told that the extent of The New York Times‘ theatre coverage will not be in the least compromised, in terms of space or anything else, by the new series on comedy. Superfluities Redux regrets the assumption.
While The New York Times seems to be giving some of its theatre space over to comedy now (to ameliorate some of the heavier drama criticism to be found in its pages and its Web site, no doubt), I am reminded that the relationship between theatre and stand-up comedy was a fertile ground for British dramatists not too long ago. Peter Barnes‘ plays Laughter! and Red Noses explored the place of comedy in times of catastrophe, but perhaps there was no more stunning examination of this than in Trevor Griffiths‘ 1975 Comedians. A few excerpts below, from the 1979 BBC “Plays for Today” production, directed by Richard Eyre.
Griffiths, a deeply committed socialist, explored this nexus with remarkable skill. Set in an adult-education class for aspiring young comedians, the play presents veteran comic Eddie Waters preparing his students for a comedy club showcase. (Mr. Eyre is currently plumbing the depths of class consciousness on Broadway, directing a revival of Private Lives with Kim Cattrall.) The most unexpected performance is the eight-minute set of Gethin Price (played in the original London and subsequent Broadway production by Jonathan Pryce as part of a cast which also included Stephen Rea):
While Gethin’s ice-cold class hatred and contempt is energizing — perhaps moreso in these days of protests fueled by class conflict (indeed, the play was revived at London’s Lyric Hammersmith in 2009) — Griffiths does not leave it there, but also offers this ambivalent dialogue between Waters (played here by Bill Fraser) and Price:
All of which makes Sarah Silverman look like just a bit of a self-obsessed Hollywood wanker.
“Truth was a fist you hit with.”
Thank you, George, for posting. God, I love this play. I found a copy of it in a small used bookstore several years ago and devoured it. When I heard there had been a BBC television version, I begged, borrowed, and stole to get a copy (well actually, I just went on eBay and found that someone had burned a DVD–the legality of which we won’t get into here.). I treasure it, watch it often, and can almost recite the whole play from memory.
This last scene between Gethin and Mr. Waters is the soul of the play, and lays out the central theme: Is the purpose of humor to illuminate a truth that can bring us together and make us understand our common humanity? Or is it a cheap, tawdry party trick, contaminated by slick lies and distortions in order to assault those we feel beneath us?
“We’ve gotta get deeper than hate.”
It is a fine play, and I too came across it a long time ago — shortly after its Broadway premiere in the 1970s, I think, in a Grove Press single-volume edition. It continues to remain relevant, especially when it comes to the “new comedy” of Sarah Silverman, David Cross, Bill Hicks and others. It also goes some way to illuminating Howard Barker’s dismissal of satire in the late 1970s and early 1980s as a genre inadequate to a post-catastrophic landscape.
Yes, the Grove Press edition! Beckett, Pinter, Ionesco, et al—my dramatic education was set in motion by Grove Press.
I still love buying old Grove Press editions. The style of the Roy Kuhlman covers always takes me straight back to college when I’d sitting drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes in my dorm room, and devouring used books from Powell’s in downtown Portland. It really made me what I am today.
Same here. The Beckett, Brecht and Pinter volumes, Naked Lunch, the Tropics and the Rosy Crucifixion … they bring back memories.
There’s a not bad documentary about Grove’s founder Barney Rosset called “Censored” from 2007. Worth a look; it shows up on IFC once in a long while.
I’ read this play recently: it must be in the zeitgeist. I saw the film on the BBC in 1979 and it knocked my little socks off.
Unfortunately we in the US did not get the BBC’s “Play for Today,” alas, and were left to the good offices of Mr. Rosset and his gang at Grove Press for things like this. (Of course there was the 1976 Broadway production, but little chance of getting from rural Pennsylvania to Times Square for this — not at my tender young age.)
Thank you for another valuable posting, George. Watching a televised extract from COMEDIANS, then reading the play, was what most memorably attracted me to the field of contemporary drama as a young teenager. And look what happened.
Interesting how much this play has affected people of our generation, no? I may write a little on this tomorrow.