Somewhere in Northwest Atlanta, between a package store and a Taco Bell, sits Allure nightclub, where, according to the flier advertising the event, “the nation’s funniest comedians” come to perform every Sunday.
Allure’s weekly spectacle, otherwise known as “The Art of Stand Up," is little more than a parade of local amateur comedians who, despite their sincerest efforts, are not all that funny.
That said, their attempts to be funny were quite entertaining. Watching crowd responses to sub-par performances and even some of the material indirectly provided plenty of laughter throughout the evening.
The unapologetically, "grown & sexy" (code for old and still out there among African Americans) scene set the tone for the evening. The spacious venue was filled with 30 and 40-something-year-old couples. The comfortable over-sized seats situated around the bar housed single men and women sipping the drinks. The plastic card tables in front of the stage filled with anxious regulars looking forward to the night ahead.
Thirty minutes after the show's scheduled start, one of the night’s Emcee’s, Malakai, took the stage exposing the club’s poor sound system and his mediocre routine. After nearly five minutes of uninspired bits about gas prices, fashion trends among the young and Mexican immigrants, he finally introduced the night’s first comedian.
Unfortunately, Malakai’s introduction was indicative of things to come; perpetual tardiness, forgettable material and unoriginality intermixed with painfully awkward performances.
No performance was more awkward or more memorable than that of Kristy, one of the night’s few female comedians.
Initially, Kristy showed promise. Her anecdotes documenting life as a single mother seemed sincere. Stories of her children’s curiosity and disobedience inspired laughter among the crowd and of my own adolescence. Then she entered the realm of the weird where spousal homicide and dismemberment is just “what you get” and mom’s masturbation is fair game for show and tell.
Admittedly, her fantasy about killing her ex-husband was unexpected but relatable. Everyone’s got that guy they hate, right?
The rendition of her mother’s shower masturbation sessions, on the other hand, was just plain wrong. Even if the crowd could ignore her fondling herself with one hand and feigning masturbation using the microphone with the other, the reluctant crowd being forced to supply the soundtrack of “Oh Happy Day” took the experience from wrong to ridiculous.
Although Kristy’s routine begs for revision, her bravery demands recognition. It takes guts to show that level of crazy to a room full of strangers who are laughing at you for all the wrong reasons.
The remainder of the night showcased mostly male comedians who, despite a few moments of promise here and there, were largely disappointing.
At best, their jokes were innovative but crass and at worst, bad imitations of tired gags borrowed from comedic legends such as Red Fox and Richard Pryor.
Nearly every performer that took the stage paid homage to these trail-blazers by muddying their material. Whether it was with a racist joke about Mexicans in America or a recycled anecdote detailing the sexcapades of single men, their tributes honored the greats only by reminding the crowd how much they are missed.
After a few hours of this, all of the routines melted into a continuous rehash of the same topics and themes, all of which were thoroughly void of humor and originality. In sum, it was a night of different names and faces delivering the same sorry stand-up.
Despite the obvious lack of comedic talent evident in the comedians showcased that evening, I enjoyed myself. Even still, I wouldn’t encourage anyone to venture to Allure for Sunday night standup. Surely there’s better things to do in Atlanta.
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