Comedy, like midwifery, is all about delivery. And there s very few comedians around who can deliver a joke as brilliantly as Steven Wright. He talks so slowly, you can usually slunk off to the bar and get a round in, grab a muffin at the nearby sandwich bar and go see a Terence Malick war film, and still be in time for the punchline. But because of the wait, the pay-off is all the more effective.
And as I hear that trademark languid, laconic drawl crawl down a phone-line, it becomes apparent that this is the way that Wright actually speaks. As we talk, Wright currently based in LA but considering a move back to Boston is ensconced in a hotel in Myrtle Beach, Virginia, in the midst of a tour of the United States which will take him from coast to coast and then it s onwards and eastwards to Dublin where the Massachusetts comedian will play two nights at the Temple Bar Music Centre (Fri 12th/Sat13th) as one of the star performers of the Murphy s Ungagged Comedy Festival.
Wright photographs like Art Garfunkel after he s fallen off the bridge into the troubled water but while many of his gags exude a sense of existential bewilderment, there s still a lightness of touch about both the jokes and the man himself that suggests he doesn t take any of it too seriously. And yet, in the truest sense of the word, he is very much the thinking man s comedian.
Human beings are in the very worst state of mind, I think, because we re smart enough to ask why we re here but we re so stupid we can t answer, says Wright, explaining Man s conundrum. If we were smarter, we could ask and answer the question. If we were stupider, we wouldn t even ask it. It s like God played a trick: I ll make them wonder but they ll never really know why . We re frozen like that.
Does he think animals have it good, then.
Absolutely. Unless they re really thinking about it too but they re just keeping it to themselves!
They ve certainly kept their vow of secrecy pretty well until now. But does Wright himself spend his day agonising over the Big Questions? His material certainly seems to be the work of a man who can t cross the road without consulting his philosophical Green Cross Code.
I live my regular life but at the back of my mind, I m questioning all the time, says Wright. I don t know why the hell we re here or what s going on, you know! And there s, like, these little guys in my head and they re saying, we don t know why we re here; look at that why is that like that?; what the hell does that sign mean?; that could mean this or that .
It s not constantly in my consciousness but underneath it s always questioning. And then when they get a thought, the little guys in my head knock up to my Consciousness guys and they say, this message is just in . And that s how the jokes happen. So I go, oh yes, I ll write that down! . I work for the guys in my head.
It sounds pretty crowded in there. But how quickly do the jokes come? And how does he know which one hits the comedic nail on the head and which one he should knock on the head?
It comes into my head pretty easy, he answers. I always write stuff into the note books but the hard part is memorising the new stuff for the stage. And I never know what s gonna work. I still don t. The audience decides. About one in three works. I try it three times; if it doesn t work then, it never will. And if works three times, then it will always work.
While standing on stage peppering us with pithy one-liners about how he bought batteries and they weren t included is Wrights s first love, he has also appeared in a number of big budget Hollywood films, including Natural Born Killers, So I Married An Axe Murderer and Desperately Seeking Susan, not to mention that role as the DJ during the infamous ear-severing scene in Reservoir Dogs. Not wishing to come down on one side or the other, Wright enjoys being both a comedian and a thespian.
I love the danger of the stand-up, he enthuses. I love being in front of the live audience. And I love writing the material and performing it. It s all up to me to do the show. And the audience is watching you and there s no second chance. It s like saying, ACTION! and then an hour later, shouting, CUT! .
And then I like doing movies because it s a much more relaxed process. Most of the time I don t write what I do in the movie. And if you make a mistake, you can do it again. And the pressure of the live audience isn t there.
But there s a whole other thing: how it looks and how it fits into the final product. It s funny: a movie is like telling a joke and then you don t know if it works for, like, a year. Whereas in stand-up, I could think up something today and say it tonight.
Wright, who picked up an Oscar ten years ago for a short movie he wrote, now has a second short film, One Soldier in the can waiting to be screened (he asks me if there are any film festivals in Ireland which might be interested so if any Festival Programme Directors are reading this . . .!).
It s about a Civil War soldier obsessed with death, he explains. He s obsessed by the unanswerable questions of life and then right before he gets executed, he realises he wasted his whole life thinking about this stuff. . . It s a comedy.
But of course! A self-confessed movie buff, Wright lists directors as Woody Allen, Fellini and Hal Ashby among his personal faves especially the latter s Being There and Harold & Maud. Has he any desire to join the increasingly large roll call of celebs who ve appeared in a Woody Allen picture?
I would love to be in one of his movies, he opines. I haven t tried. I met him once but I didn t say anything. I wish I d said, can I be in one of your movies? . . . without even saying hi .
A wicked laugh zooms down the phoneline. Tsk, these comedians. n
Steven Wright plays the Temple Bar Music Centre on Fri 12th and Sat 13th November at 8pm as part of the Murphy s Ungagged Comedy Festival.