Different Jokes for Different Folks

Shaun Landry’s story is completely believable. An actress first, but one with funny pretensions, the native of Chicago’s South Side worked her way up the theatrical comedy ranks–once upon a time–to find herself a waitress at Bennigan’s. “Improv comedy was all done by white guys predominantly from the suburbs,” she recalls. “So I asked myself, ‘Where do I fit into this scene?’ Well, I was the waitress.”

But that didn’t stop the African-American actress from eventually joining Second City’s national touring group and Hans Summers’s Underground Theatre Conspiracy as an improv specialist. In 1994, Landry and Summers, by then a married couple, decided to further forge a new niche by starting their own almost-all-black improv ensemble, Oui Be Negroes. They’ll share the stage with Denver’s Comedy Helper improv group this weekend, performing a sampling of their best bits, as well as off-the-cuff stuff, at the Denver Civic Theatre.

Both agree that it wasn’t easy to find other funny black people with a similar vision. “It was like Diogenes looking for an honest man,” Summers says. “All the minority actors were either doing dramatic work or standup–that’s where the money was.” Landry concurs: “This vision has been around for Hans and me since the ’80s. Then, improv was hot, hot, hot–particularly in Chicago. Everybody and their mama had a troupe in their back room–there were more people on stage than in the audience. But not very many African-Americans were doing improv. Actually, there were three of us. So I told myself, ‘If you wanna change it, you have to be in it.” She began her search in earnest, eventually tapping Second City’s minority-outreach program for talent.

“It all broke when Second City hired a black actor for its mainstage company. Before that, I was pleading with people–I was pulling black folks off the street, saying ‘Please, come and be a Negro.'” The subsequent success of Oui Be Negroes, paired with that of other gifted black improv performers, such as Whose Line Is It Anyway? regular Wayne Brady, has started a landslide. “Now I have so many black men calling me up on a regular basis,” Landry says. “It’s lovely for me, because I’m not the only one doing it anymore–it’s become more of a community.”

That gives Landry and her company some welcome breathing space to develop their skills. “People ask me, ‘What kind of improv do you do–do you do long-form, short-form? Do you do sketch?’ I say, ‘Well, what do you want the Negroes to do?’ We’re a theater company. That’s our theory–strong African-American actors doing good improv and good sketch comedy in every form known to man.” Both Landry and Summers acknowledge that, whatever the form, the Negroes’ primary impetus is one of humorous deconstruction. They’re trying to pick apart the language of racism, black or white, rather than flaunt it. “We know our own culture,” Landry says, “so we can make fun of anything. If it’s worthwhile making fun of something, we’ll do it, and everything is worth making fun of.”

Add to that pinch of fearlessness an already deep understanding of comedy traditions, and you’ll begin to understand where the Negroes are coming from, theoretically. Even the title of their last show, “All Coons Look Alike to Me,” isn’t meant to be taken broadly: It’s taken from the title of a ragtime tune popular in 1896, something Landry learned by way of thorough research. “It was the song they played when Jack Johnson came into the ring against Jim Jeffries,” Landry explains. “And we actually do it in the show. We deconstructed the whole song to the effect that we all look alike. We all do the same dumb, mixed-up crap.”

But Landry admits there’ll always be those who just don’t–or can’t –get it. “Most of the flak is not from black folks,” Landry says. “It comes from Caucasians, particularly with the name of the company. I just say, ‘Well, we didn’t call ourselves Negroes, really. You did. So we’re kinda making fun of you.’ For me, there’s no feeling involved–I’m not going to sit in a room and chant mantra to absolve myself for calling the group ‘Oui Be Negroes.’ We believe in the name, and we believe in the work that we do. I hope the work speaks for itself. Get the hell over it. If you can’t find the play in it, you’re the one who should go sit in a room.”

And there’s always Summers, who willingly accepts the title of “token white boy” of the troupe. Being white, Summers notes, not only provides comedic fodder for the Negroes’ routines, it also helps make sense of it for non-black audiences: “It makes the material more user-friendly. I can go off on some weird tangent that’s funny to us, but would someone from a different background understand it? I’m a translator.”

From that unique perspective, Summers counsels the white folks of Denver: “It’s reality-based. We put a magnifying glass up to real, live people and real-life situations. I could just get up on stage and drop my pants and I’d get a laugh, but if people walk out of the show saying, ‘I never thought about that before…,’ that’s really great.

“Don’t be frightened,” he entreats. “It’s okay. You can come out and see the show, too.”

–Froyd

Oui Be Negroes perform with Comedy Helper, 8 p.m. February 25-27, Denver Civic Theatre, 721 Santa Fe Dr., $12, 303-595-3821.