Comedian Jeremy Paul commented on one of our postings about Last Comic Standing. It was a lengthy comment. And, to be quite honest, we got the feeling that we haven’t been crystal clear as to how we feel about that element of LCS that has people standing in line to audition.

So, we thought we’d bring the comment up topside and air this out.

Jeremy Paul writes:

As one of the people whom stood/laid in line back in March, I have to disagree with half of your statements regarding us that actually did stand in line. Namely the assumption that if we had actually gotten honestly considered, that we’d have crapped ourselves after receiving the coveted red envelope and getting a shot at the real show. I would have loved to have been honestly considered. My time with the judges was decent, in that I wasn’t one of the many who got slaughtered and sent home after 30 seconds, I got my 2 minutes.

Stop right there.

We must point out a glaring contradiction in your comment. You say that you would love to be “honestly considered.” You go on to say that you did two minutes… in front of Andy Kindler, Natasha Leggero and Greg Giraldo… if that isn’t getting honestly considered, we don’t know what is.

Also: Keep in mind that many of those who “got slaughtered and sent home after 30 seconds” were also honestly considered. They just got honestly considered, then rejected and sent home.

To say that you, who did two minutes, were not honestly considered is simply not accurate.

As for the pants-crapping thing: The overwhelming majority of the people standing in line did not have the experience or the necessary amount of material or the temperament to progress further in the show. It’s the truth. We’re not saying everybody in line… just the overwhelming majority. Especially this year, when the producers have determined that the show will be more focused on actually performing. We recall that certain comics (Kathleen Madigan if our memory is accurate, being one of them) who got deep into the show without having to to do more than five or ten minutes of material. Such is not the case this year (or so we have been led to believe).

So… “crapping the pants” is just our way of saying that folks might have gotten themselves in over their heads. Which, as a comedian, is not something you want to do on primetime television. (Witness the dude from Dallas, Kevin Small, who, after admitting that he’d only been doing comedy since November, went up at the Los Angeles evening showcase and pitched a shutout. In comments on other websites, Small maintains that the set went better than the edited version might indicate. However, this is television and the edited version is always looming.)

Jeremy Paul continues:

But the reason they gave me for not being invited back to the night auditions, funny enough, was extremely similar to what they told Guy Torry. Keep in mind, I know friggin well they were not gonna exclude Guy from coming back. Guy is well known, I am not. Guy has an agent, I do not. Guy was invited back to the night show to perform because, after all, he is Guy Torry.

Whoa. This notion– that folks who have an agent and/or a manager have an easy stroll to the evening showcase and a further pass to the Alex Theatre– is false. We auditioned for the show in NYC and we saw many comedians– many professional comedians with representation and management and multiple, recent television credits– stomping out of the club after their auditions, disappointed that they did not advance to the evening showcase.

Furthermore, we know of many comedians without representation who did make it into the evening showcase. It’s tempting to believe otherwise, but it’s simply not so.

I am Jeremy Paul, I am funny, I waited in line, did a cleanish 2 minute bit and was my normal
comfortable self on stage. So did more than a few friends of mine. None of us are amateurs. We do crappy road gigs and good ones. We feature for some of the people who have been on the show and will be on the show.

And… we reiterate that this chain of events or set of circumstances does not guarantee a spot on the evening showcase, nor does it guarantee a spot in the semifinals. It’s the nature of the beast– auditions, either arranged or cattle call– do not guarantee success or rejection. They get you a chance.

Paul continues:

The people out here know who made it on to the nighttime showcase and how they made it on. Such as a comic who called in a favor because he does side jobs for one of the producers. Then there are comics who deserve it simply based on talent, like Laurie.

And your point is?

It’s Hollywood. Let’s see if we have this straight: You’re hurt because someone made it onto a television by virtue of his connections? We know of someone– a comic who had already made it to a previous season’s evening showcase– who called in a favor hoping to get onto the show in Season Six. This particular comic then arrived at the audition and never made it past auditioning before a PA with a clipboard. So… someone with connections (who had actually scored some facetime in a previous season!), found it difficult to advance to a level that was two levels below what had been achieved in a previous season.

Paul continues:

The show is casted. It is not an open competition.

And we suppose that you still put out milk and cookies for Santa Claus.

We’ve been accused of being a “shill” for the show, for praising it and excusing its shortcomings. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Along with pointing out the obvious (to us) value of appearing on LCS’s sizable network primetime audience, we’ve pointed out the obvious (to all) disadvantages of appearing on a show that is perceived by many as an amateur show. We’ve decried the various gimmicks that the show has employed. We’ve taken the show’s producers to task for relying on reality television conventions when they could have easily presented a slate of competent, professional, seasoned performers within a framework of a good old fashioned contest.

Instead, in the early stages of the show (and, unfortunately, through to this season), they presented the show as Top Chef meets American Idol. We have always maintained that the SteadyCam shot of the folks standing in line was too tempting to resist, but that the overall effect was to cause a schism among viewers– half viewed the show as a legitimate path to the top of the comedy heap for rank amateurs… the other half saw it as a sham that merely paid lip service to pathetic hopefuls while passing connected pros onto the glamour spots. Of course, there are elements of both in the show… and that schizophrenic nature is what is causing so much controversy “out there.” (And “in here”– meaning the comedy community– where the bulk of your best potential contestants will come from.  And where the majority should know better.)

And therein lies the tragedy.  You can’t have a talent search for comedians (that culminates in a shootout or a contest or an elimination) that employs nothing less than seasoned pros. (And if you do, be prepared for anomalies that wreak havoc with the format– a “green” comic that wins while taking advantage of the quirks and vagaries of the “contest rules” and the “voters at home,” etc.)  So you have a situtation where the internet is pocked with Tweets and comments and chatboard posts that maintain that the show is “rigged.”   That is, of course, a negative term.  And we don’t hear that term used in referring to any other reality show on all of television.  Somehow, among all the contest or reality or competition shows on all of television (cable and network) LCS has managed to box itself into a position where somewhat savvy people– inside and outside of the business– have a perception that the show is somehow not on the level.

It’s failed utterly to deal with the perceptions– Is it for amateurs? Is it for pros? Is it cast? Is it a pure competition? There were so many ambiguities from the start that the show has been dogged by such speculation since Season One.

It didn’t have to remain so.

It would have been refreshing to see the producers address this buzz early on. It would have beneficial to see the host sent out among the media to spread the word that the show is an ideal showcase for seasoned professional comics but that the door is cracked open for that occasional “gem” among those who camp out. (Or ideally, that the show has been totally revamped and that all the spots are reserved for vetted candidates and that the marathon campout has been eliminated.) Either version would have set well with a significant portion of the show’s fans. And neither tactic would have raised an eyebrow– indeed, either scenario would have had the effect of clearing the air and eliminating the ambiguity. As it is, however, the current configuration reflects poorly on all– the campers, those with “appointment” auditions, everyone– and those who get through are tarred with all manner of woeful descriptions. We’ve seen people with 20 years in the business described as “desperate.” We’ve seen speculation that LCS auditioners “must have hit a rough spot.” We’ve seen all kinds of ways to denigrate the decisions made by legitimate professional comedians to try out for a network primetime show that has the potential to expose those who succeed to 4 or 5 million viewers. What is wrong with that picture?

One of our readers pointed out that there is no way that someone– someone who had never tried standup– sitting on his couch in the summer of 2003 could view Last Comic Standing and realistically have thought that they could have tried out for the show’s following season and had a chance at either qualifying for the semis or winning. So the show was only loosely based in reality when it tried to draw parallels to American Idol. And those who indulge in this fantasy were only loosely based in reality! Other reality shows had no such pretentions toward a pure open-audition talent contest. Their “audition” process was conducted behind the scenes, via tape, or on recommendations. In other words, they were cast.

A fundamental mistake (but an understandable one, considering the reality of Reality Television in 2003) was made when the show was originally conceived. A show that purported to find the “funniest person in America” was presented as a pure open-audition comedy competition. And it clearly was not.

But what’s done is done. The franchise was essentially poisoned. But, in television, there is always an antidote.

So now we have a situation where the folks who stand in line have to decide whether or not their adventure is worth the time and heartache.

And the people inside the business have got to stop with the ridiculous heckling of those who have appointment auditions.

Both sides gotta get some perspective. Which is all we’ve ever asked for from the beginning.

We don’t expect it from those civilians who are sitting at home, those who have no connection whatever to the entertainment business, whose only contact with comedians is via the occasional visit to the local comedy club.

But we do expect it from the comics– from those on the periphery to those all the way through to the heart of Standup America.