TVSquad

Comedy clubs tend to be parodies of themselves, a place where mediocre comics trot out the same tired gags while the audience, semi-drunk on watered down cocktails, laughs and claps along. It's a great place to perform if your act involves impressions of celebrities or a trunk full of ventriloquist dummies, but if you're looking for an audience that really wants to be challenged, they won't be hanging out at PJ Laughenheimer's Giggle Hut.

This begins to explain the concept behind The Comedians of Comedy, a documentary film directed by comedian Michael Blieden which follows four comedians (Patton Oswalt, Brian Posehn, Maria Bamford, and Zach Galifianakis) on an East coast tour of the United States in 2004. The film hit the festival circuit last year and different footage was also compiled into a one-off series for Comedy Central. One week after the TV version debuted, the DVD became available as a "rental only" through Netflix.

Applying the word "alternative" to a comic is about as pointless as applying it to a genre of music, as it's just another way of saying "comedians who approach comedy differently." Still, it's the word that's been used to describe not only the four comedians featured in this documentary, but a surfeit of underground comedians whose fans will feverishly seek them out. It's still just comedy, but it's a world far removed from the comedy club scene, usually taking place in small rock clubs and similar venues where ticket prices are cheaper and people under 21 are more likely able to get in. These were the venues booked for this tour.

Out of the four comedians, Oswalt and Posehn are the most recognizable to the uninitiated. Oswalt is on King of Queens and Brian Posehn was on Just Shoot Me. Posehn, a towering, bespectacled figure, is actually recognized twice as "that guy from Just Shoot Me" by dumbstruck gawkers on the street. Galifianakis has a slew of appearances in cruddy movies to his name, not to mention a role in the now defunct drama Tru Calling and his own failed late night show on VH1 Late World with Zach. Bamford, the only woman on the tour, has no real TV credits, though her pneumatic voice and knack for imitating different vocal ranges should be recognizable to many.

The four comedians pack themselves into an RV for the tour and soon the different personalities begin to reveal themselves. The three men, Oswalt and Posehn especially, aren't much different off stage than when they're performing. Their routine, as Oswalt describes in one of many radio interviews they do during the tour, is "conversational." Oswalt and Posehn also share a "nerd bond" and a truly fanatical obsession for comic books.

Galifianakis, also a gifted musician, has a somewhat more surreal approach to his comedy that he brings even to those moments offstage when he's supposed to be candid. At one point he enlists the camera crew to help him film a mock interview where he talks about not liking physical comedy while constantly falling off his chair and sliding down a hill. There's a definite effort on Galifianakis' part not to be too serious while on camera, but there are rare and telling moments when his facade drops, perhaps only for a second, and we get at least a vague peak into the inner machinations of his mind. My favorite moment in the movie involves Galifianakis on stage in a powdered wig and colonial suit pretending to be a comedian from the late 1700s. He taps the mic and asks, "is this thing on?" and then adds, "what IS this thing?"

Bamford stands out the most though, and not just because she's the only woman. Her act is character-driven and utilizes her wide vocal range (she also does voiceovers for cartoons). Offstage, her Minnesota roots come through. She's friendly and chatty, but not overbearing. She's more content to sit back and watch her male friends act like fools than try to play along. We also learn she suffers from depression and anxiety and is on meds. Bamford may be my favorite, not because I think she's the funniest, but because her weirdness is so genuine. At one point, oblivious that one of the cameras is following her, she walks around singing into her mobile phone about how God won't kill her if she keeps her ice cube trays clean. It turns out she's recording ideas for her act, but out of context it's incredibly hysterical and endearing.

The tour, and by association, the film and TV series, were done with fans in mind. I doubt anyone else would want to sit through an hour and forty-minutes of comedians hanging out and talking about nothing mingled with footage of their actual acts. I'm a fan of all these comedians but even I felt the movie could have been a little shorter without really affecting the whole product. Still, it's refreshing to see stand-up comedy given this kind of kick in the ass, and to see how amazing the talent featured in this little documentary can be when they're placed in a venue that suits them. Perhaps this will usher in a new era of comedy and all of those comedy clubs resting in strip malls between Starbucks and Walgreens will slowly decay like ancient ruins. More likely, however, is that fans will continue to seek out lesser known comedians, and, like some of the indie rock bands that sometimes tour with these comedians, the fans will have someone outside of the mainstream they can call their own.