LIST.CO.UK/FESTIVAL Vir Das {COMEDY}
JUST HING
might have grossed a fraction of The Hangover, but the riotous, diamonds-switched-for-diarrhoea farce seems set to spawn a new genre of Indian cinema. One critic called its snappy blend of gross-out humour, sex and swearing, ‘Bollywood’s most daring, cheeky, irreverent, blasphemous, raunchy youth film to date . . . the lurid content . . . has never been witnessed on the Hindi screen before!’
Unlike the downtrodden, uptight Arup he plays in the film, Das is chatty and affable, indiscreet about the prevalence of Bollywood hair implants and his co-stars’ lack of sexual chemistry. But he considers himself an angry stand-up: ‘I’m very whiny about what I don’t understand. It’s called Walking on Broken Das because I wrote it after a break-up, a horrible personal situation.’ Writing his routines in film-set trailers, the workaholic seems tired but content as we chat backstage. Performing 90-minute sets while plugging Delhi Belly, he recently wrapped his first serious film lead. He’s in an improv troupe, sings in a comedy rock band called Alien Chutney and runs Weirdass Comedy, a collective of comics offering services that range from ‘funnying up’ Bollywood scripts to founding India’s first open mic nights. He intends to record an album and direct a television show shortly, but insists he’ll always return to stand-up. ‘It’s got me into every room I’ve ever been in,’ he maintains. ‘I’m not from a Bollywood background or a film family and in ten years’ time I might not have a film career. But I’ll always be funny.’
‘YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW IMPORTANT INDIANS ARE!’ At 25, and visiting his parents in Delhi, he’d planned to return to England to teach theatre. But an invitation to perform in Mumbai led to his first television break. Having grown up in various parts of India and Nigeria, he first tried stand-up at Knox College in Illinois, then later Harvard, keeping his scholarly change of ambition from economics to theatre from his parents. ‘I think of myself as an Indian comedian but I’ve had British and American schooling,’ he reflects. ‘I always had this feeling of not fitting in anywhere, of observing situations from the outside.’
While a security guard and dishwasher in Chicago, he began attending open mics. ‘I was booed off, 11 weeks in a row,’ he smiles. ‘I was saying, “Hey, you know what’s funny about cockroaches?” and I got slaughtered. But the best way I get good at something is if you tell me I can’t do it. In week 12, I had a meltdown: “You Americans are just stupid, ignorant hicks! You have no idea how important Indians are! We drive your taxis, we sell your newspapers, we sell you condoms and food, our doctors check your wives and children! Without Indians you’d be starving, stranded, sexually sterile and stupid!” And I got my first laugh.’ Woody Allen notwithstanding, he prefers British comedy to American – ‘it’s drier and requires more thinking from the audience’ – but cites Sam Kinison, Dave Chappelle, Eddie Murphy and Saturday Night Live as inspirations. ‘That was an interesting time for America and led to interesting comedy. And that’s what’s happening in India right now.’
Vir Das: Walking on Broken Das, City Edinburgh, 226 0000, 12–20 Aug, 7.30pm, £10 (£8).
HOT STUFF
A big fan of British comedy, New Yorker Todd Barry is happy to be back in Scotland. Brian Donaldson hears from the man who was exceptionally rude to Mickey Rourke and lived to tell the tale
When Todd Barry made his Fringe debut in 2004, the experience didn’t seem to be to anyone’s liking. Stuck in a cavernous hall with a near-midnight start time, people failed to show up in their droves and those who did couldn’t quite get to grips with his deadpan schtick. Expressing good grace, Barry describes it as ‘not the most joyous experience I’ve had. It was a little rough. I didn’t expect Edinburgh to be dancing in the streets because I was arriving in their city; I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.’ Since that largely ill-fated trip, he’s appeared on TV in Flight of
the Conchords as a bongo-playing megalomaniac and showed up at last year’s Glasgow Comedy Festival, a visit which rekindled his desire to try Edinburgh again. ‘I do enjoy festivals and I play so much in the States that I take the chance to work overseas when it comes up. Seven years seems like a good cooling down period. This year I’m going on nine hours earlier, so that might help.’ But perhaps the most curious addition to his CV was playing a
mean and sarcastic deli boss in Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler, opposite the mighty (in both size and reputation) Mickey Rourke. ‘I was very nice to him off camera,’ says Barry, reflecting on having torn Rourke a scripted new one in the movie. ‘It was very surreal because he’s one of those guys I’ve always admired and by a fluke I get this part. There was not a lot of chit-chat beforehand so I was just diving in and insulting this gigantic, famous actor.’ Among the current batch of British comics he’s a fan of, Daniel Kitson, Dave Gorman and Stewart Lee figure highly, all of whom usually revel in dreaming up weird and wonderful show titles. With American Hot, Barry admits to not having realised a title on a par with If You Prefer a Milder Comedian, Please Ask for One or Love, Innocence and the Word Cock. ‘We don’t really go in for titles in America, we just kind of go around doing stand-up. But they asked me for a title and American Hot is a pizza that they serve in Pizza Express. I’m not saying I’m hot or anything.’ ■ Todd Barry: American Hot, The Stand III & IV, 558 7272, 16–28 Aug, 3pm, £10.
11–18 Aug 2011 THE LIST 37
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