Photo via Crane's Comedy - Facebook
Nick Vatterott
Nick Vatterott performs at Crane's Comedy in Los Angeles in 2017
Some comedians will let their social media do the heavy lifting when it comes to potential new fans' curiosity. Nick Vatterott doesn't mind being asked about what makes him funny.
“I guess I’d say my act is very ridiculous, I don’t take myself very seriously, it’s a lot of observational takes mixed with absurd, silly nonsense. The best shows are when it’s a great audience and the act becomes a little more improvisational," says the Chicagoan who will be gracing the stage of The Laughing Tap for one show on Friday, May 23 and two on Saturday, May 24.
“This is something comics always talk about,” Vatterott adds regarding the question of describing their artistry. He sees it as important for comedy fans who may come to see him unaware of his act.
“Audiences will go see a comic without knowing what sort of humor they do, but they would never go see a band without first looking up what kind of music they play. Otherwise, you’d go expecting coffeehouse rock, and the band is doing Scandinavian death metal. Stand-up is the same thing. Some people go to a comic expecting clean. rated G comedy, and instead, they get Scandinavian death comedy!”
Alt-Comedy?
Vatterott doesn't currently include corpse paint nor blast beats in his act, but he's aware enough of the uniqueness of what he does to occasionally preface his use of "comedy" with "alt" in a spirited email interview. Some of his singular perspective comes from his willingness to immerse himself in all of comedy's discipled to inform his stand-up.
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“When I got to Chicago, I tried to get my hands on as much comedy as possible. I did stand-up, sketch, improv. I think this all sort of bled into each other. We used to say, ‘Does my improv make my stand-up look sketch?’” Vatterott is gracious enough to credit “the other amazing comics who were in Chicago when I was coming up” as the biggest influence on his work from the city he how calls home. Still, he is his own man.
What’s ‘Special’?
The best display of Vatterott's individuality may be in a form he would be hard pressed to replicate on stage. “Disingenuous,” his latest special, defies most every possible format for comedy n video. “It’s part stand-up, part mockumentary, part sci-fi. It’s a standmockfi!” To his mind, calling most full-length stand-up videos “specials” is a misnomer.
“Can you really even call anything a 'special' anymore? The word 'special' has lost all meaning. There’s like three new specials out every day. They can’t all be special. We should start calling them 'ordinaries.' And ‘Disingenuous,’ it’s not even like a traditional 'ordinary.'" Though that exemplar of Vatterott's aesthetic may be something he can't reenact by himself as solo comedian, he sees both the artistic and communal value of the more stripped-down comedy he shares.
Citing Sam Kinnison's observation that stand-up is an artform that dies without expansion, Vatterott adds, “If you’re doing a five-minute set, then it’s your own one person show for five minutes. So, don’t do what you think stand-up should be, just do what you think is funny. I think if there’s one thing I’d want to impart it'd be that stand-up doesn’t have to be a specific thing.” Vatterott's manner of expanding comedy comes influenced by predecessors who have refashioned humor into heretofore unseen shapes such as Rowan Atkinson, Albert Brooks, Steve Martin and Andy Kaufman.
Sharing Laughter
Though most of those aforementioned talents often relied on visual elements for their laughs, “I love to listen to specials,” Vatterott declares. “I probably listen to more than anybody. But when you sit down and watch a special on a device, you feel removed, it’s like watching people watch a stand-up show.”
With that in mind, he esteems the value of laughter shared among strangers, “It’s communal to sit with other people and find the ridiculousness in the things that often tend to upset us, anger us, give us cause for concern, etc. It’s good to laugh with a room full of people at some “thing” that resonates with us all in some way, to remind us we’re not alone in thinking the world is out of its mind. Laughing is a coping mechanism,” he observes.
Also, Vatterott would like to get more communal professionally. “I think the next goal is to work on more collaborative projects. It’s great to be proud of something you do in stand-up, but it’s so much better to share that pride of an accomplishment with other collaborators. Sketch and improv were so fun, in part, because you got to celebrate a good show with others. It’s just not as satisfying accomplishing something alone and then going, ‘Yay, me!!!!!’”
As for his upcoming Laughing Tap stint, he says, “I hope people come to the shows. Support the Laughing Tap it’s a great venue. Please follow me on social media, especially YouTube. And remember, you can give a hungry man a fish, but if you teach him to fish, he’ll be bored for a lifetime.
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“My fan base might’ve lost some fishermen on that one, but it might’ve gained some fish!”
Here Vatterott engages in his animated, silly side commenting on hearing his neighbors argue, a how to freak them out:
Remembering Ruth Buzzi
When Ruth Buzzi died in early May at 88 after 13 years of suffering Alzheimer's disease, the world lost a comedic talent arguably best known for one role, though she had more to her resume than might first be remembered.
Buzzi's defining role, at least for viewers of TV comedy that appropriated countercultural sensibilities in the late 1960s and early '70's, was probably Gladys Omphby, the ornery object of affection for Arte Johnson's dirty old man character on “Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In.” If Johnson suffered any lasting harm from all the purse-thwacking inflicted on him by Buzzi's resolute, unfashionable bachelorette, he apparently never complained.
There was plenty to her work before and after Omphby. Her first taste of entertainment notoriety came during summer comedy and music act with vaudeville veteran Rudy Vallee during her college break. Her post-collegiate move to New York City led to stints working with up-and-comers Carol Burnett, Joan Rivers, and Dom DeLuise. It was the latter with whom she had a recurrent skit as a magician's helper opposite his illusionist.
“Laugh-In” led to a steady stream of appearances on many of the variety shows that populated prime time in the ‘70s, including being a celebrity judge on “The Gong Show” and cartoon voice roles. In her highest-profile role in the ‘90s, she portrayed Ruthie the shopkeeper in “Sesame Street.” Among other roles in movies and TV series, she also made cameos in music videos by funny and fun acts including “Weird” Al Yankovic and the B-52s. Her final role before retiring in 2021 was as a larcenous geriatric nurse in John Scheider's One Month Out.
