I was struck by how many comedians lined up on the bill at the BAC Phoenix fundraiser last weekend. Struck, because BAC is more a theatre than a comedy venue. And yet, there were no shortage of comic talents – eulogising the venue in its post-fire time of need. “BAC has always provided,” wrote Stewart Lee, “and hopefully will always provide, space for artists to make work which seemed inherently worth having a go at, whatever its financial potential.”
Lee has spoken in the past about the role BAC played in his rehabilitation after comedy-industry burnout. He took refuge there and made theatre, notably as director of the BAC-developed Jerry Springer the Opera. He’s far from alone among comics to have done so: I remember Mitchell and Webb (and Sightseers’ Alice Lowe) at BAC in their devised piece Progress in Flying Machines (directed by Mighty Boosh man Paul King) back in 2001.
What’s made conspicuous by all these tributes, of course, is the absence of an equivalent venue or organisation dedicated to comedy. Which isn’t hard to explain. Theatres can provide a refuge from commercial pressure – can help artists “pursue ideas because ideas in and of themselves are valuable” (in Lee’s words) – because theatre is subsidised. Comedy isn’t. Comedy fends for itself. It’s sink or swim. It’s the wild west.
You’d want to be careful before tampering with that. Like the Edinburgh fringe, comedy draws much of its energy and democratic spirit from being a free-for-all. Young theatre-makers often get to develop their craft, and their early shows, under the wing of caring venues. Those venues, meanwhile, justify their funding with reference to the careers they launch and projects they help originate. It’s a neat system, which requires (and deserves) government money.
Young comedians, on the other hand, develop their craft onstage, in front of an audience. Not for them the weeks of free rehearsal space, the sympathetic feedback from artistic directors, the emerging artist bursaries. (Nor, mercifully, the audits and evaluations; the KPIs and data analysis.) They learn how to be funny by finding out how horrible it feels onstage to not be funny. They get looked after, of course – but by agents and managers whose primary concern is to make money out of them.
There’s something attractive about the simplicity of that. But does it affect the kinds of comedy we see? The closest comedy has (as far as I can see) to an organisation that offers “artist development”, that prioritises experiment and adventure over (or alongside) being funny and commercial – and that creates the space in which that can happen – is the Invisible Dot. Then there are club nights like Thom Tuck and John Luke Roberts’s Alternative Comedy Memorial Society, which tend the flame of innovative comedy but are (I suspect) pretty challenging to sustain.
It’s a sign of how popular comedy is that, without subsidy, these high(ish)-minded enterprises survive (if not always thrive). But they’re few and far between. And how many artists fall between their gaps? Just as Jerry Springer the Opera, Toby Jones’s career, Punchdrunk and Kneehigh may never have flourished without BAC, we’ll never know if there are potentially mind-blowing comics out there who don’t make it – because the thing they’re trying to do isn’t commercial enough, or funny enough, sufficiently quickly. Or who reluctantly start making efficient, conventional comedy because that’s where the money – and the telly – is.
My fantasy BAC-for-comedy would give these comics an alternative, would be a home for the development of creatively ambitious, ideas-driven, ruthlessly un-commercial live comedy – which pulls the artform into new shapes, that finds not just new jokes but new ways to be funny. And makes us see the world anew while doing so. But whether there’d ever be the subsidy to resource it – and whether comedy would want that – is another story.
Three to see
Paul Merton’s Impro Chums
The spirit of Whose Line Is It Anyway? lives on as the country’s most experienced and best-loved improvisers take to the road.
• Friday 24 April, Alban Arena, St Albans (Box office: 01727 844488); Saturday 25 April, Bournemouth Pavilion (0849 576 3000); then touring.
Frankie Boyle
The sometimes unpleasant, often brilliant social commentator and brutal gag-man Boyle returns with a new work-in-progress, supported by Glenn Wool.
• Soho theatre, London, Sundays and Mondays to 11 May. Box office: 020-7478 0100.
Katherine Ryan
Announced this week as the new host of, er, BBC2’s hairdressing reality show, the caustic Canadian comic Katherine Ryan extends her tour of 2014’s Glam Role Model show.
• Tuesday 28 April, Epsom Playhouse (01372 742555); Wednesday 29 April, Palace theatre, Southend (01702 351135); then touring.
