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Modern Laugh Track
Madalyn Hoerr
My television debut was an accident. My school, Columbia College Chicago, alerted students and alumni that Andy Richter was hosting a production of Team Coco Presents Conan Writers Live at the Bank of America Theater as part of TBS's Just For Laughs festival. This information we could have found anywhere; the real intrique is that Richter was allowing free admission to Columbia College patrons because he is an alumnus.
I would have been a fool not to follow this information to score free tickets. Being slightly impatient and preoccupied with God-knows-what on Facebook, I completed the incorrect form on the ticketing website. About a week and a half before the performance, The Black List sent me an e-mail offering me free tickets for the live taping. To my surprise, there were dress codes, age limits and a ban of cell phones in the theater, but I found these to be miniscule burdens in the hindsight of an evening filled with comedy and Reggie Watts' hair.
After standing in a line curling from the theater entrance down multiple State Street blocks, a friend and I entered the doors expecting to be directed towards the left and upstairs as everyone in front of us had been told. Just as I was coming to peace with the idea of the nose-bleed section, a flustered blonde woman with ridiculous blue eyeshadow grabbed us, saying, “You follow me.” We were lead to front-row seats.
I began to flatter myself thinking she wanted cute, young faces for the camera, which was soon overcast with worry she thought we would be good targets for jokes by the comedians. When an usher sat in the empty seat next to us, it finally dawned on me vacant seats in live audiences were unacceptable.
A producer came on stage to warn us the show would begin within a few minutes and gave a run-down of what to expect, as well as what was expected of us. In more words or less, we just had to sit there and laugh. I pivoted in my seat to see what the rest of the theater was doing, only to notice even the producer was reading from a teleprompter. I was too nervous to turn around for the rest of the production to see if anyone else was being fed lines. Imagine being the girl to ruin live comedy for everyone at home.
After the first comedian finished his pre-show performance, which included a joke about my friend being his sister, both the comic and the producer encouraged the audience to applaud louder, more enthusiastically and longer for the the camera. It only took four tries to get something they were happy with. I always wondered how much funnier stand-up comedy must be live than it is sitting at home to evoke such uproars. While it is obviously more exciting to be at the performance, puns are not any more clever when the comedian is standing in front of you.
The performance itself was just as one would expect. It was not noticeably different from either a comedic performance on television or one that is not being filmed. It was easy to forget there were even cameras present. Richter's introductions were obviously rehearsed, but it's expected for the host to be much more composed than the performers; and one cannot forget stand-up is not usually improvised. I would love to delve into how the comedic strategies from each performer carried the show, but I am neither a critic nor a comic. I will say that if you were not there, you missed out.
No standing ovation was requested from the audience as the show ended. They probably had the original applause tracks edited for a grand exit by that time. The moment the show ended, the same blonde woman with the blue eyeshadow demanded everyone in the theater to remain sitting until ushered from their seats. Despite the promise of a five-minute dismissal, audience members raced towards the doors as soon as she stopped talking. Because the evening was still young, my best explanation for the urgency is the fact the show overlapped Game 7 of the NBA Finals.
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