Sub Pop Records is celebrating its twentieth anniversary this year. To celebrate its success, the history of grunge, and, of course, the label's Seattle roots, Sub-Pop hosted an amazing three-day festival here over the weekend. And, in keeping with the growing trend I've been discussing in this blog, the label intertwined the celebration of its top comedy and music acts with great popular success. The festival kicked off with a concert featuring a terrific line-up of Sub-Pop comedy artists at the Moore Theater on Friday night, July 11.
Sub Pop has had its share of success with comedy recordings, but I was still surprised to see them feature this concert as the starting highlight of the weekend-long festival. The concert worked because the label does have a strong line up of comedy artists including David Cross (Sub-Pop released "Shut Up You Fucking Baby!" in 2002 -- first comedy release on the label, for you trivia buffs), Patton Oswalt ("Werewolves and Lollipops" went out on Sub-Pop in 2007) and Eugene Mirman ("En Garde, Society!", Sub-Pop 2006). Todd Barry also performed and Kristen Schaal hosted. (Flight of the Conchords, also signed to Sub Pop, played during the music portion of the festival on Saturday). It was a very fun night. For those who missed out, the good people in Sub-Pop's publicity department have been kind enough to upload a wonderful slideshow of the evening over at Flickr.
P.S. Oh yeah -- then -- over the rest of the weekend -- in Marymoor Park - the festival featured performances by Mudhoney, the Vaselines and Green River. No biggie. It almost seems to perfect to believe, right? Seattle Weekly has the photos to prove it here.
The demand for comedy is growing at music & arts festivals around the country and Seattle's own annual Bumbershoot is no exception. In 2007, the festival hosted three stages solely for comedy and even more funny acts are in the works for Labor Day weekend 2008.
Bumbershoot's comedy shows have become so popular that this year the event has put together a comedy pass that you can collect early in the day in order to assure yourself a seat at the comedy stage of your choice through the afternoon and evening.
Last night was truly an entertainment jackpot. After the concerts, we came back to find that Turner Classic Movies "Underground" was showing the 1968 Otto Preminger gem "Skiddo"! This was a rare treat because the film isn't available on home video and it's rarely (if ever?) shown on television. So you really have to get lucky to score a viewing.
Of course, mind you, there is a good reason why the thing is so scarce: this star-studded classic is a bouillabaisse of bad. A random jumble of barely connected elements (mobsters! hippies! mobsters on acid! Jackie Gleason!) which tries to portray gangsters as bumbling goofballs who are easily turned away from their life of crime by hippy wisdom (and more acid). The best (?) part is the spot-the-star (is that really him?) cast, including Gleason, Carol Channing, Frankie Avalon, Peter Lawford, Richard Kiel, Burgess Meredith, Frank Gorshin, George Raft, Cesar Romero, Slim Pickens,Austin Pendleton (AWESOME in this!), Kirk Douglas and an older Groucho Marx as God (as per TCM, this was his final film role). Though it's very tough to choose - is the key highlight watching every one of those stars debase themselves in what TCM's own reviewers calls a "garish clusterf*ck"? Or is it the psychedelic hot-air balloon escape from Alcatraz? Or is it the dancing garbage cans? How can I choose?
If you get a chance to catch it in the future, maybe you can help me with this trivia question: I want to figure out whether the role of Gleason's daughter, Darlene, was played by Leigh Taylor-Young, the female lead in my other favorite 1968 hippy comedy, "I Love You Alice B. Toklas!" Does anyone know? The voice is similar; but all hippies sounds alike. IMDB doesn't credit the role and even TCM's very detailed background story of the film doesn't mention who played Darlene.
Edited to add: Oh my word -- how did I miss this? TCM's Underground website has been kind enough to post a series of awesome clips here -- come watch Jackie Gleason's acid trip!! You will *not* regret this and will be thanking me for years to come . . .
Also: found this Wikipedia article which credits the role of Darlene to Alexandra Hay -- remember her? She actually had her first television role in an episode of The Monkees. Yup -- I think that's probably right.
The title of Izzard's current U.S. tour certainly puts one in the mood for a sexy evening. Which of course leaves the average concertgoer wondering -- can he still put out? I can't speak for everyone in the audience, but I certainly left satisfied.
But, then, it's always especially gratifying to see a natural at work and Izzard has that sparkling gift, given to so few comedians or lovers, of making even the spectacular look spontaneous, energizing, fun and -- God forbid -- easy. He hops and skips - literally sometimes -- from topic to topic and readily ponders the escape strategy of a giraffe (where *does* something that big go to hide from a speedy carnivore?) alongside the challenges of speaking Latin to convey time-sensitive information (or to describe an elephant to someone who has never seen one before [a backwards squirrel atop an oversized pig, of course]).
He has continued to perfect his lighthearted spontaneous style and it quickly seems to put the audience at ease. I think that emphasizing this "play along with me" approach more in the first hour (before working up to an impressive rabbit-paced delivery in the second) also makes him seem vulnerable and open in a way that gains our trust. And that trust frees him up to tackle any subject -- including the suggestion that God is either non-existent or blatantly stupid -- without raising hackles.
My favorite part of watching Izzard work, though, is observing how skillfully he uses his amazingly intricate and unique face -- especially his penetrating azure eyes -- to reinforce his favored stage emotions of joy, wonder, thoughtfulness and befuddlement. As a result, I've always thought it somewhat criminal to hide any of his blessed features behind makeup; but I'll freely admit that this evening's bright blue eye liner was, like everything else, spot on.
For reasons that aren't clear to me, Blogger is making it tricky for folks to post comments -- so I will try to fix that.
In the interim, though, kind fellow Maron/Seder fans have written to let me know that Maron called in while Seder was guest hosting for Mike Malloy last night and apparently they are still developing the project and looking for a new technology that will make it run more smoothly.
I visited the Sam Seder Show website several times over the past few days in search of an update. It used to sport a large banner about the Seder v. Maron show at the top of the home page along with updates about the scheduled time of the next show. Now, even that banner is gone.
I am officially heartbroken. Does anyone know the full story?
Yes -- I know -- three posts in one day. Too much?
Not when you see what I have. How can I pass up a clip that mixes two of my favorite things -- "Apocalypse Now" and Steve Coogan?
You already know that there is a comedy feature due out this summer called "Tropic Thunder" wherein the actors making a big budget war movie become involved in a real life conflict. Frankly, that didn't interest me terribly until I saw that they had gone to the trouble of making a promotional clip for another movie which is supposedly about the making of "Tropic Thunder", but which in style imitates "Heart of Darkness" -- the film about the making of "Apocalypse Now." It's called "Rain of Madness" and here's the trailer:
And why I am not at all surprised to see Coogan featured? Since it is, as with so much his best work, a parody of a send up twice removed. I can't help but love.
An old friend of mine -- a comedy devotee and successful comedy writer -- told me yesterday that he lived two blocks from LA's Largo for years(the old location on Fairfax) and didn't know that Greg Proops regularly hosted a brilliant chat show there. Really? That seems unbelievable to me; but if he doesn't know, then perhaps you don't know. So here we go.
The charming and very smart Greg Proops chat show hosts guests in the cool and cozy Largo space for discussion and performance and whatever else comes to mind. It has now migrated over to the new Largo location on La Cienega, but this great tradition continues and you should catch it while you can. Past guests have included Jack Black, Sarah Silverman, Joe Walsh, Janeane Garofalo, David Cross, Maragaret Cho, Dave Eggers, Joan Rivers, Aidan Quinn, Jeff Goldblum, Kathy Griffin, Lewis Black, Patton Oswalt and John C. Reilly. And guests are really just the icing on the cupcake. I'd go just to check out Greg's suits. A sampling of the beautiful thing here:
Although I haven't had the pleasure of seeing Proops perform live in years, I can highly recommend the show because I have seen some of his most recent video and it is obvious that he has really been kicking ass again lately. Of course, I am somewhat biased because I'm a long-time fan and I especially love it when he is speaking to folks of our generation, as he does with this awesome recent bit about Evil Knievel:
But the Big Chat Show is friendly to all generations -- example: upcoming guests include the Flight of the Conchords, who will be joining him at New Largo on July 26. (Although the challenge of mixing Proops with the New Zealanders is that it is almost too much adorable for one stage to bear -- so one has to hope that the new Largo has undergone stringent seismic reinforcement). But hosting the younger set seems appropriate because the Proopsdog is nothing if not constantly hip and relevant. In my eyes, ageless and timeless.
You may be wondering at this point: why should we believe that a stand up comedian and improv master would necessarily make a solid chat show host? Easy. Proops is one of the most stunningly intelligent comedians alive and he is fastidiously well-informed. His opinions are better formed than his hair, and that is saying something.
Edited to add in a tasty video sampler of the show -- here is a holiday special (probably not typical, but none of these shows are):
I know I've said this before, but if you are stuck in LA anyway for a time, go see him. Just do it. Oh -- and before you go -- call me so I can pop down to join you.
Word from Punchline this morning that "Do You Believe in Gosh?" will be the title for the posthumous Mitch Hedberg CD that Comedy Central plans to release on Sept. 9. According the magazine's earlier reporting on the subject, it will contain almost entirely unheard materials.
I always feel odd listening to or looking at any art that isn't released until after the artist is gone. It feels exploitative, even when it is intended to be respectful. I tend to ponder whether the artist was ready to put this stuff out there yet -- but, in this case, since we are talking about a past live performance, it doesn't bother me as much. Presumably, Hedberg was happy with the material at the time he took it on stage, right?
Besides: I can't pretend that I'm not happy at the prospect of adding more Hedberg material to my collection. I adored his relaxed style, puppy-dog looks and innocent musings. I never grew tired of his approach and we lost him way too young. I miss him.
Here's the first bit I ever remember seeing him perform live -- simple enough, but I never forget it and still quote it regularly today -- typical of his sweet style:
Comedy is art. To me, that's an unquestionable truth. But since the relocation and subsequent repackaging of HBO's U.S. Comedy Arts Festival last year, no one has launched (to my knowledge) a new annual event in the U.S. that celebrates the best of the art form -- showcasing a combination of this country's best stand up, sketch, improv and sitcom work. Why?
Yes, there are many fine smaller events which are continuing with varying degrees of success. You can find a fairly comprehensive list of stand up showcases, competitions and sketch festivals, for example, here. In fact, the list actually seems to be growing -- with new ones launching fairly regularly. And, if you are really craving something big, you can always grab your passport and skitter off to Montreal or Edinburgh -- but why should our best and brightest need to go abroad for wider recognition?
There's certainly an argument to be made that the internet provides such an effective and comprehensive showcase of current work that there isn't a need for performers to travel to tiny alpine ski villages to find representation or market themselves to the networks. Fair enough -- maybe this is more efficient -- but what about the fans? What about community? Isn't there a value in bringing everyone together once a year just to celebrate unique achievements and revel in work that we love and admire? The internet is no substitute for the thrill of sharing a live performance or the simple joy of meeting new companions who share your passion.
To support my position, I would point out that the opposite trend is taking hold in music. The music festival was all but gone in the 80s and only started to regain popularity slowly in the 90s with the rise of Lollapalooza and the scattered growth of radio-station-sponsored summer outdoor multi-band concerts. As this decade starts to sunset, though, huge multi-day camping outdoor music fests are thriving. (By the way, what a great time to be a teenager! Our sixteen year-old babysitter goes to Sasquatch every year with her friends. Three days of camping and partying music and art with no parents?! Are you kidding me?!?!? Oh, sweet Lord, to be young again . . .) Bonaroo sailed through its 7th year with a crowd of nearly 70,000; I believe the Coachella Music and Arts Festival topped 150,000. Of course, these events aren't as industry-centric and music will always draw a bigger crowd; but I still believe it is a small indication that there is clearly a need and desire to get out and commune with performers and fellow fans. There must be some effective way for the comedy community to tap into that desire.
One option is the apparent trend towards mixing comedy in with the big summer music and arts festivals. Bonaroo and Sasquatch both had comedy line-ups this year and those performances were apparently well attended. So that's encouraging and if the trend continues, I'll certainly be making the rounds of major festivals next year. (Which will be somewhat hilarious since I haven't been camping in over a decade . . . .) But I still contend that, if done correctly (in the right location, good mix of performers and fair price point) that a truly national comedy event and celebration could be joyful, worthwhile and fiscally successful.
Am I going to have to organize this myself? Do I have to do everything around here? *sigh*
BTW -- side note -- if you want to see a stunning example of how well this can work, check these really beautiful pictures that Louis CK took from backstage at Bonaroo. From his vantage point, we are looking out at a crowd of 65,000 fans screaming for Chris Rock, even though they are stuck in the rain. Awesome.
Over the past year, Sam Seder and Marc Maron have been doing a fun and fairly adorable weekly web show. Broadcast jointly from what looks like Sam Seder's basement and Maron's living room (sometimes patio), they discuss subjects ranging from politics to Maron's second divorce (pending and apparently brutal) and why Air America fired both of them (a terrible shame -- no one funny left over there at all now).
It is shaggy (seems to rely too heavily on Maron's laptop webcam) and prone to idiotic technical difficulties as well as oddball rants on the lack of true creativity in our society, but I love it nonetheless. Two wonderful middle-aged comedy talents, seemingly bored and lonely, bitching about the world in the same voice my friends might use -- albeit frequently funnier. I never miss it.
Recently, though, Sam switched over the server for his website (which "hosts" Seder v. Maron) and the show has gone MIA for the past two weeks. I really miss it and am hoping that it will come back soon. In the interim, if you're interested, you can check out re-runs of the show, posted as Video on Demand (VODs) at Sam's website.
Brush yourselves off and get back in the saddle, guys!!
Sharing this old post from Dead Frog today because I've been thinking a great deal about the state of comedy festivals in the U.S. and I really thought this analysis was solid. I'll have more to say on this subject myself in coming days (especially on the growing trend of mixing comedy in with music festivals as we saw this year at Bonaroo and Sasquatch, among others), but for now, I'd be curious to know whether you think that the Frog has this one right.
Lifted in its entirety, but with full credit, from this page of Dead Frog:
In the Summer of 2009, Just For Laughs and TBS will pair up for the “Just For Laughs: A Very Funny Festival” which will be held in Chicago. The only top line talent mentioned right now isEllen Degeneres, but there’s also the obvious tie of working together with Second City. No exact dates have been set for the five-day fest as of yet.
A while back I talked about if we need a new festival after the loss of Aspen’s US Comedy Arts Festival. Although I’ve seen some suggest that this is the replacement for that, but from my read the Very Funny Festival seems far more consumer oriented. Also, considering the likely closeness to the industry heavy 2009 Montreal Festival also produced by Just For Laughs, I don’t see this as an Aspen replacement.
TBS will also be taking “The Comedy Festival” off HBO’s hands. With that fest and this new Chicago festival, TBS is making a big play to be Comedy Central’s main competitor. The “very funny” theme has been a part of TBS for a while and with its concentration on sitcoms, to me it marked itself as the less-edgy competitor for Comedy Central. With both fests under TBS, this could be a big play to become a major player in stand-up on TV, something which Comedy Central has had mostly to itself for quite a while.
Comedy Central, of course, wouldn’t let their territory go easily. They have their own fest now, the South Beach Comedy Festival. It’ll be interesting to see if Comedy Central takes on a second fest as well.
When I questioned the need for an Aspen Comedy Festival, I wondered about the point of holding a fest when the web seems to bring comedy talent out of the woodwork. These latest developments have answered my question: comedy festivals are branding opportunities for networks. They’re to say to the public, particularly in TBS case, “Hey, we’re where you can find the funny!” Hence almost all the big USA fests having a more consumer appeal. They’re not deal making events, they’re a synergistic diversification of a business model.
You might wonder if any city besides Chicago was in the running for this new fest. Well, I have a completely circumstantial hunch that New Orleans was considered. Again, totally circumstantial.
But don’t be disappointed for the Big Easy, one of those old-fashioned homegrown fests is currently in the works. The New Orleans Comedy Arts Festival will be taking place on April 3rd to the 5th at the La Nuit Theater. How quaint!
If you grew up in the 70s and your parents were proud Angophiles with an anti-establishment sense of humor, then you need to come to my house for a cup of tea because you and I will become fast friends before the Earl Grey cools. I know this because I feel certain your parents let you stay up to watch Monty Python at age 9 and likely even let you study another BBC counterculture classic The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin. This brilliant piece of Britcom, although lesser-known in the U.S., shaped more of my world view than I would ever care to admit and that's why I feel a need to promote it here, for those of you who haven't yet had the pleasure.
A three-season series launched in 1976, the first season tells the story of 46-year old Reginald Perrin, a senior sale executive with Sunshine Desserts, a company that sells and promotes flavored ices. A normal-enough man with a normal-enough life, Perrin slowly starts to lose his sanity in the face of continuing his solidly uneventful and mind-numbing suburban commuter routine. He rebels against normality -- almost unintentionally at first -- fantasizing quietly inside his own head about breaking free -- and then openly, in front of friends, colleagues and family. Unable to accept another day of inventing new ways to boast about flavored ice, he craves escape, but - like nearly everyone else in his circumstance - he just doesn't quite know how to manage it. He starts with a standard mid-life crisis agenda -- talking back to his boss unexpectedly and having an affair with his secretary -- but even that starts to feel sadly pedestrian. And so, in a fit of desperation, he fakes his own suicide -- leaving his clothes on an abandoned beach -- and starts a new life.
Soon, however, Perrin misses his wife Elizabeth and returns (under a false name, though his wife pretends not to recognize him) and remarries her. In the second series, he starts a new company, Grot, openly selling useless items at obscenely inflated prices. "So much rubbish is sold these days under false pretences", Perrin tells a customer, "that I decided to be honest about it." His goods include square footballs, round dice, silent records, and tins of melted snow -- and so it is, of course, a huge success. Horrified, Perrin makes numerous failed attempts to destroy Grot, and eventually just gives up again -- faking his own suicide once more, though this time accompanied by his wife.
The plot sounds simple enough in its 70's-style morality, but the series was really brought to life by the very tight writing and the performance of an impressive cast -- most especially its leader, Leonard Rossiter, who played Perrin. Rossiter was a natural at portraying the stereotypical English suburbanite; yet also managed to keep that subversive twinkle in his eye as Perrin grew odder and odder.
Personally, my favorite aspect of the show was always the catch phrases. Catch phrases have a terribly bad name in today's comedy; but in Perrin they were used properly -- as a simple device for illustrating the painfully repetitive nature of Perrin's day. Like passive worker bees, Perrin's office colleagues literally used the exact same words to respond to every situation presented to them. For example, two junior "yes men" sale colleagues at Sunshine Desserts, bumblers who quivered in the face of authority, were rarely ever permitted to say anything other than "Great!" and "Super!" respectively, no matter what they were asked. It sounds extreme, but it truly works well -- even today, it reminds me of too many folks that I've worked with in offices through the years. It's an odd little trick that really holds up. Similarly, the boss at Sunshine Desserts, CJ, could never start a sentence without the tired phrase "I didn't get where I am today by . . . " blah blah blah. And even to a 9-year old, it quickly became apparent why Perrin needed to get away. Of all these, the one I always enjoyed most, however, came from Perrin's ne'er-do-well hippy son-in-law, who never quite managed to get a grip on anything. His phrase, as befitted his life, was "bit of a cock up on the XX front." As in, when asked about his new job, "Well, bit of a cock up on the employment front." Where's the food? "Afraid there's been a bit of a cock up on the catering front." Poor Perrin's life never changed; yet, somehow, for the viewer, it never got old. (BTW, you can't imagine the constant temptation, as a grade-schooler, to sidle up to my teachers and announce "Ah, yes, bit of a cock up on the ol' homework front today." Real missed opportunity there.)
There are times, certainly, when the series feels dated -- not just in fashion and setting, but also in its 1970s style of rebellion. I still feel, though, upon a recent reviewing, that there is a timeless quality about Perrin. For as one older review that I found of the show mused: "As long as there is industry, capitalism and a human longing for a life less ordinary, there will always be a Reggie Perrin sentiment present in the world."
The series was based largely off the the 1975 novel "The Death of Reginald Perrin" by David Nobbs. Nobbs was an established comedy writer in Britain in the early 70s. He was a writer for The Two Ronnies when the BBC invited him to submit an idea for a play about social problems in contemporary society. The synopsis he submitted concerned a man slowly going mad from his daily routine and it was rejected as unsuitable. Thankfully, Nobbs he held it and converted it into the Perrin novel.
Sadly, there aren't a great number of clips available online from the original series to show you, though there is this fun show post-show analysis / retrospective:
and this quick couple of bits from a similar retrospective, intro by Ronnie Barker:
Thankfully, you can still buy the entire series from Amazon UK (for the time being), though you will need to have a multi-region DVD player to see them. If you ever get the chance, do see it. And then stop by my house for tea and flavored ices.
If you are tall, Irish and extremely funny, then chances are good that I've already fallen in love with you three or four times over and, at this point, you're just wishing I would lose your phone number so that you could avoid all the hassle and paperwork involved with getting a restraining order (that can take weeks -- who has the time?) And that pattern probably best explains the reason for my ongoing infatuation with comedy's most delicious mophead, Dylan Moran.
If you're an American and already know Moran, that's probably because you were lucky enough to catch one or more seasons of Black Books on BBC America. Created, written and developed for Channel 4 by Moran, it chronicles the struggles of crumedgeonly drunken bookstore owner Bernard Black.
Bernard is a throughly unlikeable inebriate, but Moran relates him to the overwhelmed-by-the-modern-world bookworm inside many of us who just wants to be left alone. With his two long-suffering friends -- equally unmotivated shop owner Fran and painfully underconfident Manny, (played with equal strength by Bill Bailey and Tamsin Greig) -- they seek refuge in the bookstore and hope that the rest of London will just let them be; but it never does. Customers continue to drop in with the unreasonable expectation that they may browse or purchase volumes without being heckled. If that wasn't annoyance enough, soon a bright and cheery chain bookstore (with crass corporate customer service provided by a steely Simon Pegg) moves in next door -- and then the customers *stop* coming. As with all of comedy's greatest characters, it seems that there is no way for poor Bernard to win. The only hope for all three characters is to tolerate each others eccentricities long enough to form a family-style bond and barrier against the outside world.
"Black Books" was well-loved by fans in the UK and abroad -- and even the critics chimed in approvingly -- it won a BAFTA in 2002 for best sitcom. All of the episodes are gems, but I'm especially fond of "Elephants and Hens" (in which Bernard and Manny write a children's book); and the final episode, "Party", in which Bernard tries to explain why he has been so grumpy and misanthropic all these years. Frankly, though, I recommend that you buy all of them.
To date, Dylan has been fairly cautious about maintaining creative control over his work and that has definitely been to his benefit. Much of what he appeared in has been of his own design (although in 1998, prior "Black Books", he did star in another charming but less popular series called "How Do You Want Me?" which was written by Simon Nye, who also wrote "Men Behaving Badly.") The rare movies he has done have been ones written and led by friends with equal talent. For example, he has worked with Simon Pegg (including his key role in "Shaun of the Dead" and his heroic effort as Pegg's friend and trainer Gordon in the most recent [but not quite as funny] "Run, Fat Boy Run"). He also held a great double role in "Tristam Shandy -- a Cock and Bull Story" as Dr. Slop -- the "modern physician" who delivers the lead character. (A key premise of the original novel being that the narrator continually tries to tell the story of his own birth but is constantly distracted by other story threads). He pairs that role, as do all of the actors, with interspersed scenes where he appears as himself -- an actor in the film. (For fuller background on the post-modern nature of the film, see The Resilient Rabbit: Knowing Me, Knowing You) This is best near the end when all of the actors view a screening of the final product and Moran is chatting with Gillian Anderson about why all of her best scenes ended up on the cutting room floor. (Have I mentioned before you that you really must see this film? Seriously. It's an overlooked gem. But once again I digress).
Dylan rarely grants interviews -- he doesn't seem comfortable around reporters (a point that was played up for humorous effect during a short that precedes the opening of his "Monster" stand up DVD). And even when he does talk, he is reticent on the subjects of himself, his family, his history and the creative process. So much of all that remains a bit of mystery, which probably adds to the charm.
Moran is only 37, but the bounce back question still comes to mind for me. "Black Books" wrapped back in 2001 and I've been ever-so-curious to see what he comes up with next. He is apparently still doing stand up in the UK -- check out dates for his "What It Is" tour here -- and if his two performance DVDs, Monster and Like, Totally, are representative, then he is definitely worth checking out on stage. Moran started out in stand up and even won with Perrier award at Edinburgh before he began work in television, so he definitely knows how to work an audience. And though the "Monster" DVD still shows him performing his signature glass of red wine in hand, he says that he has grown bored of the prop -- and of performing while plastered generally -- so I would be even more intrigued to see what his stand up looks like now.
Here's hoping that this Rabbit -- and the rest of his infatuated American audience -- will be lucky enough to find out more soon.
No idea whether he will perform for tall one or just sit at the desk (given his stature, probably the latter); but if he does some stand up (rather than just blather on about The Riches), this could be a treat since his current U.S. stand up tour, Stripped, has been getting rave reviews.
First, I have to restate my respect for Dana Carvey for trying to take on a comeback at age 53. At the height of his success, the glory of his work arose largely out of combining the boyish innocence and enthusiasm of his characters with his skill for voices and impersonations. So everyone has to arrive at this show wondering whether the same jokes would play well from a face that is slightly wrinkled and/or whether the impersonations risk pushing him into Rich Little territory (obviously a terrifying possibility for any performer.)
On the first point, I have to give him props. Although he'd obviously had some minor work done to his face (smooth as a baby's bottom it was), he didn't try to pretend that he was still 30. He faced his current stage of his life with humor ("I love getting old -- you can get hurt doing nothing at all!") and addressed himself to his peers under the assumption that they would form the bulk of his audience. I think that was a logical choice and I liked his approach -- it felt honest. His delivery wasn't perfect -- there were times when you could see that he hadn't spent the last year or two of his life on the road perfecting every beat of this material; but he has enough residual skill to pull it off regardless and you can forgive a tiny bit of rustiness to someone whose last HBO special was in 1995.
As to what I call "the Rich Little Challenge" -- this one was always going to be trickier. Dana never specialized in material with a strong viewpoint or heavy insight -- and by the way that's fine with me. I love silly as much as the next person. But if you only do voice with no political or social commentary, you do risk looking more like a harmless old hack. Carvey came close at a few points in this show -- pulling out impersonations of Reagan, Bush 1, Bill Clinton and Ross Perot (Ross Perot??). Maybe he thought the crowd expected it (the same instinct that causes Rick Little to keep trotting out Dick Nixon); but it felt a little forced and dated. I guess that will always be a fine line for him.
All in all, it was comfortable and pleasant -- like an old sweater -- but I only laughed out loud a few times. Check it out on HBO reruns if you are looking to enjoy some relaxed happy memories, but probably not much more.
VisitBritain has recently launched an effort to promote the locations of past British sitcoms as tourist destinations. According to the Times: "The tourism body, which had success last year with its campaign to encourage “set-jetting” to locations of blockbuster films such as The Da Vinci Code, says that 40 per cent of all visits around Britain are inspired by scenes shown on TV and in films.
The most visited places for comic nostalgia are expected to be Torquay, location for Fawlty Towers, Holmfirth in West Yorkshire, setting for Last of the Summer Wine, Turville in the Chilterns, the parish made famous by The Vicar of Dibley, Norwich, home to Steve Coogan's I'm Alan Partridge, and Cricket St Thomas, Somerset, the village where Peter Bowles and Penelope Keith filmed To the Manor Born."
Look: I'm a ridiculous Britcom nerd. I admit to being over-the-top addicted. If I didn't have a family to raise and a job to hold, I would certainly and happily waste the rest of my days away -- "Spaced" in front of the television -- watching reruns of Fawlty Towers, Give My Head Peace, the Mighty Boosh, the Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, I'm Alan Partridge and Black Books -- and that would ideally be before breakfast.
But here's the difference between me and the promoters of these tour plans: I was paying attention while watching these shows. I recognized that, in the original Office, a central theme was the characters' flailing inability to escape from the dreary life of Slough. Likewise, Fawlty Towers wouldn't have been quite as brilliant if it were set in an exciting seaside resort so that the inn might occasionally attract fun or interesting guests. (Okay -- "the Germans" would be funny in any setting, but that's just because of the funny walk . . . ) The show is better because Basil is stuck in Torquay. As a proud British citizen, he refuses to admit that it's not exactly the Cote D'Azur -- but that denial only further fuels the premise.
Point being: these spots are not hidden gems of holiday excitement.
I will say, however, that the campaign's website -- although sporting a very goofy design -- is actually chock full of useful info for folks like me, including links to where one can find comedy clubs and festivals around the island. I could have used this last time we were in London and I was whining to my long-suffering spouse that I didn't want to go to the Comedy Store OR Sohoho again. They even reference and link to the Blue Lounge in Thirsk -- which I might actually visit someday if only because I think that Greg Proops' "Back in the UK" was partially recorded there (though mostly taped in Sheffield and Edinburgh). And how about this description: "Giggling Badger Comedy Club, which opened in 2006, is one of the biggest Sunday night comedy clubs in the Midlands." (Please Note: In February 2008, a second Giggling Badger club opened at the Royal British Legion club, Melton Road, in Syston. This venue now hosts a comedy night on the second Wednesday of every month.)
Wow: the biggest of *all* the Sunday night gig venues in the Midlands?? Now you almost have to go, right?
It also has an index of outing spots organized by comedy hero. My favorite part about this index is that it links the reader back to pictures of the places mentioned. These show glowing pictures of the getaways -- all of them sunny, bright and cheery. Here is the picture they show of Torquay:
And, granted, I visited there once and the place certainly has charm. It's cute. Looks like you'd think an English seaside village would look. But, honestly, here is how I remember it:
That picture was lifted from the "boy was this a bad marketing strategy" Torquay webcam -- visit it and judge for yourself!
Note: no picture posted for Slough. We wonder why? Probably best summarized by the first stanza from the famous John Betjeman poem -- remember when Brent read aloud from it?
Slough Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, Death!
Come, bombs and blow to smithereens Those air -conditioned, bright canteens, Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans, Tinned minds, tinned breath.
Mess up the mess they call a town- A house for ninety-seven down And once a week a half a crown For twenty years.
My old friend Mark and I have a long-standing tradition of making regular buddy trips to the L.A. Zoo. It started many years ago when I bought him a zoo membership for his birthday and continued regularly during the rest of the years that I lived in L.A. On average, we'd visit a couple of times a year to see the new exhibits, eat Kettle Corn, gossip and generally catch up. It's always a fine time; but since Madeline was born and we moved up north, I haven't been good about setting aside time for it. I wanted to remedy that, so this last weekend we set a plan for a zoo visit.
Unfortunately, the temperature in Griffith Park on Saturday topped 110 degrees. More than 98% of the animals were hiding in their enclosures -- completely invisible to the slim hardcore crowd of sweaty tourists. Those few intrepid critters who did venture out looked like this:
Frankly, it just seemed cruel. To be fair, though, I think that photo fairly summarizes how I felt about our trek that day as well. I was wilted and weary about 10 minutes into the first loop; but my not-so-subtle pleas to Mark that we consider packing it in and adjourning to a neighborhood pub were ignored. For reasons that aren't clear to me, he veritably thrived in the swelter. Hours later, he was still like a Gila Monster on holiday at the shore, he was -- well, see for yourself:
I can't add anything meaningful to the many wonderful tributes already written about George Carlin's passing. (I especially loved this one by the ever-amazing Louis CK which reminded me of something I had forgotten -- that I used to listen to many Carlin bits on the AM radio show classic, Doctor Demento -- remember that? I actually used to hide a transistor radio under my pillow so I could listen on Sunday nights at an hour well after I should have been asleep . . .)
I can only humbly say that Carlin is responsible for many happy giggling hours in my childhood and for that I am especially grateful. I played "Class Clown" until the grooves wore thin and quoted "FM and AM" verbatim far before I had reached an age where I really understood most of it. If there is one Carlin bit that will forever define him in my mind, however, it has to be the great classic "A Place to Put Your Stuff" -- a masterpiece of social commentary wrapped in utter silliness -- I still find it very impressive. Every time I listen, I still laugh -- and it never fails to make me briefly reflect on how I'm living my life. Once, when I asked some friends to help me move out of one house and into another, I overheard my friend Eric, box in hand, walking away from me and mumbling: "Sometimes you gotta move -- why? Too much stuff!" Can't argue with this logic.
Here he is, performing the bit at the 1986 Comic Relief -- years after it had already become a classic. Thanks for everything, George.
My dear friend Apryl was kind enough to bring me along Sunday evening to see Thievery Corporation play at the Bowl.
Since the show, I've been trying to think of the words to describe their work, but their own bio for the Bowl show actually does it surprisingly well: "“Our deepest source of inspiration comes from our record collections,” says Rob Garza, an apt reference to their collective nom de plume. Always great admirers and curators of dusty grooves and all-but-forgotten music styles, THIEVERY CORPORATION borrows from the classically sensual and blunted sounds of their favorite Brazilian bossa nova, Jamaican dub reggae, vintage film soundtracks, and psychedelic rock to forge into new sonic territory." "Classically sensual and blunted" are the key words here -- because on an already simmering evening, this was one seriously sexy performance. How else can you describe the mixing of sitar grooves, Perry Farrell, psychedelic projections, belly dancers and Seu Jorge? If you weren't swaying your hips at full speed, then you don't have a pulse. But, thankfully, that didn't seem to be much of a problem for the sold out crowd of young music fans from every ethnic persuasion -- coming together on a warm Bowl night for dancing, swaying and flirting.
Good call, Apryl!!!
Edited to add: Our friend Tano saw their show the previous evening in Vegas, and it sounds as though it was fabulous -- here is his review.
So what's the verdict? Can Mystery Science Theater 3000 work effectively before a live audience sans robots? Whaddaya think, sirs?
I was lucky enough to attend the sold out Cinematic Titanic show at the John Anson Ford amphitheater this past weekend and, for me, it exceeded expectations. Of course, a great setting always helps and the Ford is one of my favorite venues on the planet -- intimate, charming, fine wine list. Cool evening breezes blowing through the tall trees and reflections of the Hollywood Bowl fireworks on the stage. I really can't think of any place where I would rather see a show. The last concert I saw here was in September 2002 when we saw Minus 5 open for Wilco, which was amazing. The Ford is so tiny that I felt as though I was attending a backyard bbq at Jeff Tweedy's house and Peter Buck was going to tap the keg. . . but I digress. My point is simply that the stage itself added to the sweet and simple joys of the evening.
Joel and crew delivered a playful and energetic commentary to the alarmingly annoying "Doomsday Machine". Granted, "Doomsday" was rather easy pickins' for such an adept and accomplished crew -- but that didn't matter because picking the correct film for abuse is actually part of the challenge - much like picking the correct set of symphonies to highlight an orchestra's key talents. And this is truly a talented crew, obviously coming back to their true calling. They worked from a prepared script propped on music stands which kept the narrative crisp and quick so the performers stayed well ahead of the many more obvious jokes that the movie brings immediately to mind. After all, that was always the triple charm: bad movie + joke I hear in my head + joke I didn't seem coming = spewing giggles. Of course I won't deny the warm feelings of nostalgia and the happy memories of Saturday mornings past; but this really didn't feel like watching an early 90s grunge band touring with just their old material. It truly felt fresh and full of glee. I considered the passing reference to "Manos: The Hands of Fate" to be a personal gift to me, wrapped up with a sparkling pink bow and sprinkled with sugar on top.
I hope that they continue to perform live from time to time. They obviously really enjoyed drinking in the laughter of a live crowd and yet it never seemed to throw their timing. Even the Bowl fireworks didn't cause them to skip a beat.
It's wonderful to be home again. Madeline is getting funnier every day. She tells amazing jokes and just learned a new song about killer robots from Venus. The strawberries in our garden are nearly ripe and the blueberries are getting close. It's cool, sunny, peaceful and uncrowded; but I still miss all of you back in LA. Painfully so.
So thanks to the whole gang for a truly wonderful weekend. And just to spark some cozy memories from very long ago (well, for most of you anyway), here's the "Love You" video that I think we all first shared back on Valentine's Day 2001 (has it really been that long?) It always makes me think of you people and it always makes me smile. Anyway -- to everyone who helped to make my weekend special: Love you. See you again soon.
If you came of age during the carefree days of the early 90s, then you owe many happy Saturday morning memories to Joel Hodgson. Back when your hangovers were still rather manageable -- before Bill Clinton proved what an ass he could be -- before Comedy Central was a powerhouse with multiple hit shows -- and back when your "friends" still passed out on your couch every Friday night -- Joel provided a reliable source of snarky charm with his masterpiece, Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K).
Joel began his career as an easygoing, midwestern comic and (ahem) magician. Sporting the same sleepy, innocent-eyed manner we later grew to love, in 1982 he moved to LA and had some promising success with appearances on Letterman and SNL -- as well as his own HBO special. By 1984, however, he was already fed up with the Hollywood scene and the lack of fun, originality and spontaneity in the roles he was offered -- so he moved back to Minneapolis. He continued to perform stand-up and also took up sculpture and toy design -- building robots for fun in his spare time.
In 1988, Joel built Cambot, Gypsy, Tom Servo and Crow! and MST3K was born. No one had ever seen anything like it before -- sitting in front of the screen and making fun of bad movies? Joel has admitted, in later interviews, that many viewers didn't get the joke at first. It certainly caught on quickly, however, and essentially spawned its own unique form of interactive humor. The show also owns a small piece of funny history because was one of the first shows ever picked up by the Comedy Channel (early name for what became Comedy Central). The show quickly grew in popularity; but Joel left the lead role in 1993, when it he gave the reins over to his successor, Mike Nelson.
Hodgson later admitted that he only left MST3k because of creative differences with his co-producer and that he missed the show greatly. Finally, in October 2007, he launched a successor effort -- Cinematic Titanic -- which he operates with fellow MST3K alums Trace Beaulieu, J. Elvis Weinstein, Frank Conniff and Mary Jo Pehl. And this weekend, their happily reunited team will be performing at the John Anson Ford Amphitheater as part of the LA Film Fest. Myself and my friend tribe will be there to pay tribute to the man, the show, the genre and the memories.
As Joel turns 48 this year, what is his answer to the comeback question? I am hesitant to comment before seeing the show; but if the website is any guide, the answer is: simply keep doing what he does best. And that makes sense to me. There is no need to update this act. He is the master of his own subgenre -- making fun of bad movies was funny then; and why wouldn't it still be now? If you were KISS, would you undertake a reunion tour without makeup -- or without playing "Detroit Rock City"? Exactly.
FYI: I would be remiss if I didn't mention that his successor, Mike Nelson, also has a movie commentary site that sports a whole library of clever audio overtracks for old and current films -- you can find them at Rifftrax, and it is well worth a visit.
Just a quick one today; but it's fun: AND another chance to mix stand up with cute fuzzy animals! Here is young Dan Cummins telling about his ideal dream pet, the Chocolate Squirrelador. We know you want one.
As per Punchline magazine, Dan got the thumbs up during MN auditions to compete on Last Comic Standing this summer. So, if you like cross-breeding dream pets, you can see more of Dan's work there.
A reunion of the Ricky Gervais Show podcast team!! Gervais, Merchant and Pilkington getting back together for the launch of NME Radio -- times and rebroadcast info here. It may not be much, but I'm still thrilled.
A classic Bouncing Back post today. Dana Carvey, age 53 (can you believe that?!), is making a stand up comeback on HBO this weekend with "Squatting Monkeys Tell No Lies."
Many of the early pre-release reviews have been fairly harsh, accusing Carvey of relying too heavily on his 80s material. And God knows I am certainly hoping that there won't be much time spent on impressions of George Bush the 1st or a rehashing of the Church Lady; but I'm willing to give it a try for two reasons: 1) it's obviously my blogger duty, given our focus here on comedians finding a new tempo to their work after age 40; and 2) I read some more sympathetic words about the piece over at Dead Frog which suggested that Carvey does spend some time reflecting on the unique challenges of age (from divorce to some rather terrifying health challenges). And after watching this early release clip, I'm hopeful. Yes, it is essentially just Carvey playing with this love for voices, impressions and silly accents, but he does do so here in the context of facing some of late life's harsher realities (in this case, a disconcerting chat with the cardiologist). Even the youngster readers over at Funny or Die, most of whom were certainly too young to enjoy Dana Carvey's initial run on SNL, seem to be giving this clip some kind words.
So enjoy the preview and check out the full show on Sunday. I will, of course, be back with a full review next week. Would love to hear what ya'll think of it as well.
Wow! Big response to "Knowing Me, Knowing You" -- including the happy news that Coogan will be going on tour again soon with an act entitled "“Steve Coogan is Alan Partridge and other less successful characters”
That news taken from a charming Merseyside Comedy blog (possibly associated with the Liverpool Daily Post, though I can't tell for sure) that posted this very fun "Top Ten Steve Coogan Moments". So, if you are looking for more funny Coogan bits, just follow the link!
Somehow it has already become a running theme in this newly-born blog: finding the funny past age 40 when most of your prior work has been centered on the snarky joys of youth. Maybe that's an inevitable point of fascination for me given my fondness for continuing to follow comedians that I've known and loved for decades; but, the more I start to notice their differing approaches to the problem, the more intriguing find it. And, in addressing this theme, Steve Coogan's story is absolutely one of my favorites. Coogan originally found fame in England through his self-created role of Alan Partridge: a crass, idiotic and self-absorbed chat-show host with a disconcerting fondness for ABBA. His short BBC series, "Knowing Me, Knowing You with Alan Partridge" had its first run in 1994 and was an instant hit. Part of the show's odd charm was the way the character frequently reflected Coogan's public tabloid image as -- well -- crass, idiotic and self-absorbed. (Though the real-life Coogan was certainly a good deal smarter, better looking and less socially awkward than poor Alan).
Interestingly, Coogan started to play with the theme of passing one's prime while he was still young. Between 1997 and 2002, he created the follow up series "I'm Alan Partridge" -- in which Alan has fallen from television grace, lost his BBC chat show, gotten divorced and is now reduced to hosting a small-town, rooster-hour show on Radio Norwich. Even funnier than the original, Coogan does an impressive job of somehow causing us to feel sorry for this washed up lout and to (nearly) regret his well-deserved fall. In the great tradition of Basil Fawlty, it is painfully clear that the character is limited primarily by his own choices and flaws, but you somehow can't help but wish that his fate could be a bit less cruel regardless.
I really can't overstate how amazing these shows are -- down to the finest detail. Honestly, even the DVD menu makes me laugh - presenting itself as a combination of the security camera footage and the video-for-purchase television menu of the dismal old residential hotel Partridge inhabits in Norwich. You're forced to go through the whole menu -- with very odd results -- in order to find the shows.
In 2002, Coogan finally leveraged his long-running Partridge success into a movie role that brought him broader international attention: Michael Winterbottom's "24-Hour Party People". Starting a consistent and enjoyable pattern of roles that break the fourth-wall, Coogan addresses the audience directly (though in character) as he plays Tony Wilson, the journalist and TV presenter who co-founded Factory records (label for the Happy Mondays and Joy Division) and owned Manchaster's famous Hacienda nightclub. As a young, passionate and painfully sexy Manchester native himself, Coogan made the role sing -- and the critics began to take notice.
Coogan's fondness for roles that break the barrier between himself, the character and his audience created a fun compliment to the work that, as I mentioned above, seemed to be a reflection of his own public persona. In 2003, Jim Jarmusch decided to play along by casting him in one of the "Coffee and Cigarettes" vignettes opposite Afred Molina. In the brief 5 minute sketch, Molina meets a distant, preening and egotistical Coogan briefly in an American coffee shop with the exciting news that he believes they might be cousins. Molina is thrilled; but Coogan is visibly unimpressed by the notion until a quick call on Molina's cell reveals that he is friends with one of Coogan's favorite directors, Spike Jonze. It was, yet again, an extremely funny and self-depricating send-up on Coogan's own reputation as shallow and narcissistic. Even if you think that you're completely burned out on the excessive "cleverness" of the self-referential comedy of the 90s, just trust me: it's far more enjoyable than you might expect to watch Coogan consistently poke fun at himself this way.
The entire trend came full circle in 2005 when Coogan teamed up with Winterbottom again to make "Tristam Shandy -- A Cock and Bull Story." Winterbottom and Coogan take the joke so far in this film (which is, after all, a purported effort to film the first truly post-modern novel) that the movie includes a scene where Coogan, playing himself as the actor playing the lead role in the movie, is interviewed by the real life Tony Wilson (the person who Coogan played in 24 Hour Party People) and they discuss whether Alan Partridge is an abstract creation or is actually just a reflection of Coogan's true personality (his answer: I'm not saying; but obviously it's a bit of both). How's that for a mind bender? Again: even if you hate everything about post modernism as a movement, you have to laugh at the silliness of it all when you see that scene. It's a send up of a send up of a gag twice-removed. It actually gets funnier, inside your head, hours after you watch the movie. And how often does that happen?
Okay -- well! -- that's a great deal of background; but in service of a good cause, I assure you! (In addition to, I hope, introducing you to some fun clips you might not have seen before).
Saxondale is Coogan's most recent television effort. It's the story of a washed-up 50+ former rock and roll roadie who still considers himself a critical force in "fighting the system" while he toils away his days working as a pest exterminator. Coogan's character vacillates between the day-to-day drudge and humiliation of fighting bugs and dealing with the fallout of his past, including visits from other aging rocker pals who insist on trying to party as hard they did in their 20s -- until they end up in an ambulance from the effort. Each episode opens with the lead character suffering through a nearly unbearable group anger management session at the local public library. Priceless.
I don't know how Coogan actually feels about getting older (he's only 43; where as Saxondale is clearly identified as post 50); but he certainly has a keen fascination with the subject. Whereas many actors seem focused on continually trying to play roles suited for much younger performers, Coogan does the opposite -- creating characters older than he is -- and ones who are on the downwards slide, whilst he himself is still quite successful (the later years of Partridge where meant to show Alan in his late 40s, when Coogan was still in his early 30s). It's almost as if he is trying to get out in front of the challenge and say "I know I'm going to someday become old and irrelevant and I really don't care -- because I'll find a way to make that funny as well." It's somehow simultaneously bold, silly and ingenious. Or maybe it's just common sense. Maybe it's always funnier to watch aging and suffering than youth and success. If you've seen Saxondale, I would be curious to hear what you think on that subjec.t
p.s. Mike just pointed out to me that BBC America has recently been doing viewers the great favor of running Saxondale and "Knowing Me, Knowing You" back to back some nights, so that you can follow the progression described herein. Well done.
By now, you probably realized that if you don't like either cute furry animals or stand up comedy, you're probably in the wrong place. But what about those rare days when I can combine the two? Impossible you say? Watch and be amazed!
While viewing some bits from the Aspen Rooftop Comedy festival over at Punchline, I found this wonderfully simple piece by Matt Braunger about the dangers of baby owls. Sounds silly, but I especially love it because recently two of my favorite hiking trails on the island were *closed* because of attack owls. That's right -- renegade owl attacks made in broad daylight. We have no gang activity here on the island, but apparently it is still possible to get mugged in broad daylight while hiking through the Grand Forest. By an owl. That, alone, stikes me as funny. So I was especially pleased to see a comedian who appreciates the unadvertised dangers of a life lived near birds of prey. Enjoy.
In a mix-up that could easily have been described in a Monty Python sketch, episodes from Michael Palin and Terry Jones's "The Complete and Utter History of Britain" have been found by the British Film Institute's Missing Believed Wiped effort. The intrepid folks at MBW track down footage from eras when archival of film was prohibitively expensive, so many shows were erased after transmission. Why didn't they just upload to BitTorrent?
"The Complete and Utter History of Britain" was a sketch comedy by Palin and Jones, who collaborated before joining Monty Python. The show, which presented historical events like the Battle Of Hastings as live news, is a sort of Rosetta Stone of sketch comedy, providing a definite chronological link between The Goon Show and The Daily Show. This major discovery is just as if Aristotle's Poetics of Comedy had been discovered, and had been funny, and Aristotle had long hair and a wacky accent.
In addition to the three episodes discovered recently, another has been unearthed. It had been misfiled. It is hoped that the parties responsible for the misfile have been sacked.
Messrs. Jones and Palin will be introducing the show at a special event hosted by the British Film Institute on June 25th.
NOTE: I, the Resilient Rabbit, did not write this post -- it is taken in full from Comedy Central Insider who, apparently, lifted it from Dead Frog. So full credit goes to them and I have linked to the original above. I pass it along here only because I know that folks who read this might be interested.
Sub Pop has had its share of success with comedy recordings, but I was still surprised to see them feature this concert as the starting highlight of the weekend-long festival. The concert worked because the label does have a strong line up of comedy artists including David Cross (Sub-Pop released "Shut Up You Fucking Baby!" in 2002 -- first comedy release on the label, for you trivia buffs), 
Patton Oswalt ("Werewolves and Lollipops" went out on Sub-Pop in 2007) and Eugene Mirman ("En Garde, Society!", Sub-Pop 2006). Todd Barry also performed and Kristen Schaal hosted. (Flight of the Conchords, also signed to Sub Pop, played during the music portion of the festival on Saturday). It was a very fun night. For those who missed out, the good people in Sub-Pop's publicity department have been kind enough to upload a wonderful slideshow of the evening over at Flickr.
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