Turning Frowns Upside Down or Some Shit

'Misery Loves Comedy' is for fans

Misery Loves Comedy shouldn’t work as a documentary. It features, almost exclusively, talking-head interviews, has no action other than sharp turns of phrase and it’s just long enough to make one squirm when considering its lack of visual interest.

 

Still, it's fun. That’s because its subject—comedians and how they operate—is important to comedy fans. The comedians featured know how to tell a story (even if the movie itself isn’t interested in showing one). And it’s, at times, riotous. That helps.

 

Take, for example, Lewis Black’s interview with Misery Loves Comedy’s director, the actor and stand-up Kevin Pollak. “In order to become a comic—pay attention,” Black says, fixing his gaze on Pollak. “You have to enjoy watching yourself die.”

 

There’s nothing particularly revelatory in hearing someone lay out what it takes to become a comedian, but hearing one comedian make a joke at another’s expense (that’s the “pay attention”) is gold, Jerry! Most of the other performers stick to poking fun at themselves, but if you know Lewis Black, you know he can’t resist poking at anyone.

 

This week in the paper, we have two documentaries. Normally, Misery Loves Comedy may not receive such high praise, but after sitting through the shorter-but-still-interminable I Am Big Bird: The Caroll Spinney Story, this baby has earned its accolades.

 

There are, however, things wrong with Misery Loves Comedy beyond the fact that a bunch of comedians sitting in armchairs isn’t eye candy. There are few people of color in this documentary, either as interview subjects or topics of conversation. Richard Pryor naturally gets props from his fellow comics, but that’s about it. There is no Chris Rock or Leslie Jones or Kevin Hart or Dave Chappelle or Paul Mooney or even a mention of Redd Foxx.

 

There are few women, too. For every Lisa Kudrow or Amy Schumer on screen, there is not an Elayne Boosler or Carol Leifer or Julia Louis-Dreyfus or Rita Rudner (as omissions go, understandable) or Sandra Bernhard or Roseanne or Ellen DeGeneres or Maya Rudolph or Wanda Sykes. Either these comedians can’t speak to misery (in which case, you haven’t heard Leslie Jones’ stand-up act) or...I’m not sure what. Whoopi Goldberg pops up once or twice, but that doesn’t adequately cover women or people of color.

 

Plus, there’s an unwelcome appearance by that revolting hack Anthony Cumia—you may remember him as the half of Opie & Anthony that got kicked off his own show for tweeting racist bullshit; he was still making racist tweets the night before this review went to press!—when so many other good comedians could have filled his slot. 

 

But who knows why some people are in this documentary and others are not? If the subject is misery, it makes sense that Mitch Hedberg’s widow would appear. It does not make sense that Jimmy Fallon would appear. But in a film where the comedy is this deep, all the other gripes seem petty, or at least worth a gloss-over (except for garbage human Cumia). Bump this up to “yay!” if you really love comedy, and drop it to “meh” if you don’t.

 


MISERY LOVES COMEDY

Directed by Kevin Pollak

With lots of comedians

CCA Cinematheque

NR

94 min.


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