|
Story
by Cpl. Brian A. Tuthill MARINE
CORPS AIR GROUND COMBAT CENTER TWENTYNINE PALMS, Calif. (March 25, 2006)
-- More
than 500 Combat Center Marines, Sailors and family members packed the base
theater March 22 for a night of laughs and entertainment.
|
![]()
|
St. Thomian Proves He's Really a Stand-Up Guy
|
|
Jamaican comedian keeps
them laughing
Five years ago, Jeff Hodge had been doing comedy for a few years in Los Angeles. But even with his experience as a stand-up comedian, he had his setbacks. One night after a successful show at the Laugh Factory, Hodge received a call from Magic Johnson’s T.V. show; they wanted somebody to warm up the audience. Hodge agreed to the gig and he drove to NBC studios in Burbank. After not being able to afford parking, Hodge entered the studios where he was confronted by one of the big shots with a remark he will never forget. "The lady said, ‘We looked at your tapes, you sucked,’" Hodge said. "I’ve had people tell me we don’t think you’re right for the project, we’re going in a different direction. I have never had anybody come to me point blank, you suck." Hodge said even though that experience was the most humiliating and devastating moments of his career as a comedian, it made him persevere that much more. "I was telling my friend the other night, when I’m up there accepting an Academy Award I’m going to thank all the people that wouldn’t give me the time of day when I was trying," Hodge said. "The more they told me I couldn’t do it the more I tried to do it." Hodge grew up in the Virgin Islands (Jamaica) and was far from being the funny, laid-back comic he is today. Hodge’s brother, Kelvin, said out of all their siblings, Hodge was the most serious. His siblings used to call him "Big Brother Almighty." "He was more like a father-figure," Kelvin said. "He always had a serious look on his face. He reminded me of my dad–looks like my dad (and) acts just like my dad." It wasn’t until Hodge moved to Texas where he studied at the University of Houston that the idea of being a comedian for a career ever crossed his mind. "(On the islands) there was no such thing as comedians," Hodge said. "I didn’t know what that was." Having already taken a shot at comedy–memorizing a five-minute act one of his friends had written and regurgitating it on stage–Hodge was weary of ever attempting to be a comedian again. In an architecture class at the University of Houston, one of Hodge’s classmates urged him to go for comedy. "He worked with me and coaxed me to going to open mic," Hodge said. "Five minutes before I went on stage he said, ‘You’re not real easy to make laugh, so I don’t know if you’re funny.’ I went up on stage that night and I did terrible too. I bombed. I didn’t know what I was doing." Hodge and his friend Ashley decided to join a private comedy class called, Comedy Gym Class. In the comedy class, Hodge learned what it takes to be a comedian. "I thought you had to be grammatically correct so one joke would be a page long," Hodge said. "People would look at me like a dead headlight." Hodge said his comedy instructors taught him to get to the joke as quick as possible and to talk about himself and what he knows. They wanted the "Cosby-like smile," Hodge added. After three years of college where he bounced from major to major, Hodge dropped out of school as a senior and left for the road as a comedian. He came to Los Angeles and entered a foreign world. "Moving to L.A. was an eye-opening experience," Hodge said. "You do the road, have great sets, people tell you you’re funny, you should do a sitcom. You come to L.A. and you realize it’s not about talent it’s about having the right management, making the right connections and persevering." Having been in Los Angeles now for 10 years, Hodge has been a successful comedian. His fame includes Crocodile Dundee in LA, Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo, a writer for The Keenan Ivory Wayans Show and the author of three humor books: "101+ Ways To Get Out Of A Traffic Ticket," "Pet Peeves: Things That Tick- Me Off About Driving" and ‘101 Ways To Stay Awake While Driving." He also owns his own production company, Yeah Mon Entertainment, which puts on a show called, "The Ambassadors of Comedy, A collection of America’s funniest foreign comedians." "I like doing my own thing (because) I’ve never had someone do it for me," Hodge said. "When I wrote the books, printers said, ‘It will never sell.’ You’ll never make it in comedy, you have an accent no one will understand you; that club has since closed." Hodge is taking classes at CSUN toward a major in cinema, television film. He plans to produce and direct comedy shows and movies. "You gotta wear all the hats," Hodge said. "Once you achieve the level of (success), once you get there, (then) you can delegate." Hodge said he is comfortable with comedy now that he can perform without being so structured. "I take a lot of chances on stage with improv (and) wing a lot of stuff," Hodge said. "When you first start off you have to have that material solid. You can’t be winging it. They (comedy clubs) expect you to be funny. You get booked to do a 30-minute spot, you don’t want to be funny every now and then, you gotta be funny at least every 13 seconds–punch line, punch, punch punch. You ain’t funny, guess what, you ain’t comin’ back." When the audience roars with laughter, Hodge said it is a great feeling. "I leave the clubs high," Hodge said. "I’m up all night going through my Rolodex, ‘Who can I call.’" What about when he doesn’t perform well? "You can have a thousand good sets and two bad ones," Hodge said, "you’ll remember the two. Those two will haunt you forever." A12-year veteran of stand-up comedy, Hodge hasn’t given up. Even after the greatest setback of his career at NBC, Hodge continues to pursue other avenues of comedy. "I really like what I do," Hodge said. "The average person would’ve given up then. Something told me to stick with it and I have." Jeff Hodge’s show, "The Ambassadors of Comedy: A collection of America’s funniest foreign comedians" will be playing in the University Student Union at the Performing Arts Theater tonight at 8 p.m.
|
|
Driving is serious business for teaching comics
Gathered around dimly lighted cocktail tables, the 41 adults laughed exuberantly at the appropriate moments. During the eight-hour show, not one person left. They weren't allowed to. Not if they wanted to erase the memory of that latest speeding ticket and have their auto insurance reduced by 10 percent. A defensive driving course. Ughhh. Ask almost anyone who has taken one. Expect to be met with a glazed look as they dredge up memories of staving off sleep while being lectured on the geometric pattern of stop signs. But the students in this defensive-driving class didn't snooze, even during the road-sign segment. Their teachers, two professional comedians, kept them alert by tickling their funny bones. Using a modified Socratic method, John Ryan (teacher of the morning session) posed hypothetical questions to his students while pacing the stage in typical comedian fashion. What do you do if the hood pops up while you're driving ? Ryan read from the state guidelines: Look through the gap underneath and carefully pull over. "It makes a great sun visor, but don't keep driving like that," he added, assuming an exaggerated Southern accent. " "Well, we're only 450 miles from the Florida state line. We can make it.' " What would you do, Ryan then asked, if your headlights failed while on the road at night? "Don't pull out that butane lighter and go, "Dude,' " he said. "Don't do that. People will drive by and yell, "Freebird, man, Free bird.' " The "classroom" at Spellbinders Comedy Club on Westheimer erupted in laughter. Part comic and part coach, Ryan and afternoon-session teacher Jeff Hodge cajoled their students into learning eight hours' worth of driving techniques in preparation for the state's very serious exam at the end of the day. They and five other local comedians have been teaching classes on weekends since Sept. 27 at Houston's two Spellbinders clubs. Weeknight classes just began at The Comedy Showcase. Richard Schiller -- president of The Comedy Defensive Driving School, which administers the classes -- came up with the idea of using comedians to teach defensive driving about 3 1/2 years ago. "Basically, I just slept through a defensive driving class and decided I could do better," said Schiller, who was managing a Fort Worth nightclub at the time. Schiller said the Texas Education Agency initially wasn't too fond of his idea. "They were doing it out in California. But they were throwing rice and toast and everything," he said. "It was a joke. It got a bad rap around the country." Texas drivers apparently were unaware of the industry's less-than-favorable reputation. Since its first class one year ago at The Improv in Dallas, the school has expanded to 11 comedy clubs in Dallas, Fort Worth, Austin, Houston and Amarillo. Classes often reach their maximum of 50 students, who appear not to be turned off by the slightly higher cost. The fee is $35 per person, about $10 more than most courses. (The school's information and reservation number is 469-2828.) Larry Meador, 27, is a graduate of two traditional defensive driving classes. After this latest speeding ticket, he decided to enroll in Saturday's session at Spellbinders. "I've been to other classes that were so boring. It's in a classroom. They show you all these old 1940s movies," he said. "These guys, they give you the same information, but they make you laugh at the same time, so I think you remember it better." Irma Henry, the school's general manager, scouts local comedy clubs for teaching talent. She's looking for clean, "Jay Leno-type" humor that won't draw the wrath of the state's defensive-driving school licensing board. The comedians must take a 24-hour course in Austin, plus teach 16 hours of supervised defensive driving without jokes, before being licensed by the state as teachers. While the comedian-teachers are encouraged to use their own style and material, they're prohibited from making jokes about sex, race, religion, seat belts and drinking while driving . "It's beautiful because I try bits that I've been wanting to do onstage," Ryan said after class. "They have to be there, so if they don't laugh, big deal." Also, he said, if the audience does laugh, you know it's because of your comedy -- not a third round of cocktails. Besides, the money comes in handy while on the way up the ladder of comedy success. Much of the teachers' humor is spontaneous, based on audience participation. During Saturday's morning session, Ryan asked class members what they should do if the accelerator sticks while they're driving One student made the mistake of suggesting that the driver reach down to the floorboard and try to pop it up. That answer provided enough comic fodder for the remaining 30 minutes of the session. "While going 55," Ryan mimicked good-naturedly, "you just reach down there ... " He pantomimed lying down on the floorboard of a car while peaking occasionally over the dash. "Oh look, a Lifesaver! Oh, let's replace a fuse while I'm down here." He then explained that it might be a better idea for the driver to try popping up the accelerator with his foot instead.
|