The Comedy Review

Every generation has its legend. Beyond that field of famous faces are those that are doing something different. Pairing them all up regardless of artistic pursuit in The Comedy is as intense and interesting as it gets. A time capsule of recognisable faces from the likes of LCD Soundsystem, Tim & Eric, Netflix showcases and The Black Keys. Eleven years ago. That is where The Comedy finds itself. Confrontational intensities, bare-chested Tim Heidecker, and a Donnie Emerson soundtrack, all come together in its tonal oblivion. Graphic, strange and slowly moved displays show the gruesome immediacy of friends that find themselves confronting a dysfunction usually levelled at the cast of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. There are no laughs here. 

Unhinged displays from leading man Heidecker showcase his shapeshifting career. Whisky-drinking, Oreo-eating Swanson asking of anal prolapses is far from the e-cigarette criminal turned political candidate he would later portray in a long-form narrative experiment. Experimentation is at the heart of everything Heidecker does, though. The Comedy feels like a ready-made experiment that brings his serious acting abilities to the forefront. Swanson is Woody Allen’s Alvy Singer with the success and without neurosis. Insincerity breaks down the usual walls of friendship for the five at the heart of this. Heidecker guides viewers through that, James Murphy appears completely at home in a big-budget acting debut. The Comedy is a place for performers not usually associated with black comedy and dark dramatics to find themselves a new tone. 

Party-going conversation is dull and The Comedy is having none of it. Rick Alverson’s direction takes on extreme close-ups as a way of showcasing depraved and intimate moments. But it is depravity through the spectrum of normalcy. Completely absurd and vile moments are presented as usual for this slate of characters, their grim fascinations and unhinged disposition feel genuine. They are empty and searching for some form of meaning in their solemn ways. Deranged and sinister in convincing and peculiar ways, The Comedy marks itself as a sincere piece where the humour comes from fascinating, strange behaviour that feels implicitly normal for Swanson (Heidecker) and his gang of pals. Resentment is the core of The Comedy and to get to that heart, that centre, is to suspend maturity and to envision people who live as true, self-interested scum. Alverson brings that together with fascinating moments of stilted dialogue, hobo jungles and all the overindulgences of New York City living.  

Hoping that nobody thinks in the same way as Bobby (Gregg Turkington), is wishful thinking. Everyone has an unfounded, reprehensible thought that just never comes to the surface. The Comedy lets those ideals not only bubble up to the top but does so without reflecting on the consequences. It does not need to. Alverson rightly gambles on his audience and their feeling toward these characters. Miserable individuals that are passing through a vignette-style life, waiting for their next brush with drink, drugs and sex. Those moments of actual elation are just as empty as the coffee shop encounters, the run-ins with strangers and the monotony of daily life. Swanson, actively and passively breaking that, is a menace. But it makes for such a gripping watch. The Comedy showcases a feral style of unengaged living, and it does so unrepentantly as it takes knocks at the sad act of upper-class hipsters who spend their days in misery and their nights on moonlit boats.