What
follows is not a conversation, it is 2 one-way streets.
Two
different characters. DEANNA. BUTT KAPINSKI.
DEANNA:
a human being. A working artist and teacher. A generally kind soul
with occasional flashes of intelligence, but also very concerned with
the usual mortal things that eat away at human souls and make us into
nervous machines who will become extinct quickly.
BUTT
KAPINSKI: It ith a mithion. It ith a thacwed cawwing:
Make
a fiwm noiw.
Be
weth awone.
Caww
it a night.
Butt
and Deanna are at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival together for the
first time.
It is
a festival where famous comedians do comedy, and also Butt Kapinski.
I've
done 2 weeks of shows. So far, the audience size, in terms of sheer
numbers, are the smallest of Butt's performance career. Once in
Dallas s/he did a show with 8. Here in Melbourne so far, the average
is 10-15. Mostly comps.
Those
on Deanna's production team assure Deanna that it is early in the
festival yet, that "people are talking"—whatever soothing
sounds they can make, anything to cheer her up. Deanna is eating
sliced apples. She is taking baths and lighting candles and doing
pilates in the living room. She is working on making it through. She
heard a young comedian in the green room the other day talking about
his show—
"... And we're in
this huge venue, and there are like 10 audience members watching us.
It is AMAZING. It is HILARIOUS."
—And
she takes him in with wonder, astonished and inspired by his
devil-may-care stance. Deanna is not that person. She forgives
herself for her small feelings; after all, work and colleagues and
money are all important things, but she wishes she were more like the
22-year-old who still feels like it's all a big joke.
Butt
is like that, sort of. Butt doesn't really care how big the house is.
The
mithion ith awwayth the thame:
Make
a fiwm noiw. Caww it a night.
I
don't think this happened automatically. It started when I did that
show for 8 in Dallas. Boy I felt it then, right before those shows. I
was pretty scared. Butt was scared. We didn't know if we could do it.
Two shows of 8, it ended up being. Half the audience was comp. Maybe
more.
But
here's what's (not) crazy: those audiences threw down. Those shows
were really fun. The audience members stuck with me. Maybe we stuck
with each other. I really remember the energy at those shows. It was
live-action role-playing sex-nerd energy, electric.
But
still, even though I've had beautiful, transcendental experiences as
a performer with a small house, the ego in me really gets bummed out.
It's a funny tug-of-war, a to-and-fro, between Deanna the human to
whom everything has way too much meaning, and Butt the force who
doesn't give a shit.
Here's
what happened a few nights ago. 17 people tops, half comps at least,
probably more. Mayyyyybe 4 paying ticket-holders. For some reason,
everyone in the room was totally into it. They did crazy things,
surprised me. They came up with a new ending involving a courtroom
scene and an old lady sending her cat to sniff the defendant and
assess his guilt. And after the show groups of people all stood
around in wonder and said, "what the fuck happened." So.... THAT. I
mean, what I'm saying here, how can that not make the world better? SOMEHOW?
The
other night, I had to cancel my show. Did I have to cancel? I
don't know. There were 2 comps. That was it. I spent the 20 minutes
before showtime crying. And then I cancelled.
They
were lovely, those 2 middle-aged women who stood there in the lobby
and forgave me for not giving them a show. "Have a drink, put
your feet up," they said to me. One of them said she went
dancing the other night. I had a sense, in their presence, of human
beings who were fun, who had fun in life, who would've been fun to do
something with, even if it was just me taking them into an
alley and acting out murder scenes against a brick wall.
But
the other night I couldn't do it. I was too miserable, too full of
Deanna for Butt to come out.
I'm
not going to do that anymore in this festival. If anyone shows up, we
have a show. We have something. Because you are not going to
beat me down, Melbourne International Comedy Festival. You are not
going to convince me that I'm nothing just because not that many
people are coming to my show. You are not the mirror that I need to
assess myself by. It's uphill, it's exhausting, it's unbelievably
nerve-wracking and I'm not eating enough and fuck you. But you're not
going to take what matters from me.
And in
the black, in the shadows, Butt is always there, already ready,
bursting out of me and making me forget everything else. Nothing
matters but Butt. That's who I'm following into the darkness. That's
who makes the most sense.
BUTT:
That'th what I awwayth thay, dowwfathe.
It'th
a thacwed cawwing.
Make
a fiwm noiw.
Be
weth awone.
Caww
it a night.
