Sarah Kendall is one of the funniest stand-up comedians around. Time Out Comedy Award Nominee 2006, Perrier Award Nominee 2004 and all round champion of the international circuit. She is currently working on bringing her 2007 Edinburgh show My Very First Kidnapping to the television in the form of a screenplay.
Sarah Kendall is a natural storyteller, she exudes warmth making her audience feel immediately at ease. She is beautiful but you are quickly reminded that there is intelligence and grace in every inch of her body and her jokes are lessons in how to craft good comedy.
As a new act comic, I had worked with her at a little gig last year and was so encouraged by the praise she gave me after my set, that it will remain as one of the important reasons to stick with it. It’s unusual to leave a gig glowing because of a remark made by another comic, trust me.
In essence, Sarah Kendall is truly human and that is what makes her such an endearing performer.
I visited her home on my birthday and she told me about dying with dignity.
When you first came over from Australia was it purely your intention to do comedy and make a name for yourself?
I came here to NOT do comedy. I had met an Englishman, Henry Naylor (fellow comic) and came to the UK to be with him. I was a bit intimidated by the comics on the circuit here and never genuinely thought I would do much. In Australia people like Stewart Lee and Simon Munnery would come over to do the Festivals, so I was just overwhelmed by that sort of standard.
Is it weird to be ranked amongst them and on the bill with them now?
I don’t consider myself ranked amongst them at all. I mean Stewart Lee – he’s like a magician, such a professional, you keep waiting for the reveal, to see how he does that trick, why does that material work, why is that so funny? He’s a master craftsman.
Stand-Up. Does it feel like work?
Sometimes it does.
Worst gig?
There’s nothing as hard as those gigs you do when you’re starting out. When you crash and burn and your feelings get hurt. It’s never going to be that bad again. It’s like being an infant and remembering teething. You still get some nasty surprises though. I’ve seen some of the best acts in the world die on stage and you see the shock on their faces. It’s the ultimate leveller. You learn the tools to die gracefully and maintain your dignity though. What I used to hate most was crashing and burning without grace. It’s raw and hurtful.
You take it personally then?
Sure I do. I hate the movie, You’ve Got Mail but there’s that line when Tom Hanks says, ‘You take everything so personally’ and she replies, ‘Of course I do. How else do you expect me to take it?’
That’s true. Of course I take it personally. I’m not hiding behind anything here. These are my ideas and I thought they were funny.
Was there a point where you ever lost faith from the rejection?
Constantly. I was constantly throwing out material, which of course is necessary, but I was constantly quitting in my mind all the time. Time after time I was like, ‘this is shit, I don’t deserve to be treated like this’. Absolutely.
Was there a point in your early days where you felt yourself change gear?
The biggest growth spurt you can have is your first one hour show. It’s the most exponential learning curve. I don’t think anyone ever feels ready but I think you just have to jump in and do it. It wasn’t until after that that I really regarded myself as a comic. On the one hand you are being fed to the lions, the audience have paid to see you and it’s not cheap up in Edinburgh. But it’s the only way to develop.
So was there a defining moment in all of that where it dawned on you that ‘This is What I do?’
I felt things start to come together in 2003 in terms of my comedic voice. That would have been my sixth year in comedy. I knew who I was and I started to write stuff that felt good and had a good strike rate. I had the venn diagram of who I was and what audiences liked, ‘this is the part of me that works comedically.’ I started to get an inkling for it and accepted my on-stage persona.
Have you ever tried to force a persona that isn’t you?
Yes. If you’re having a mediocre gig all the wheels are going to fall off at that point if you’re faking it. But I remember seeing an Ellen Degeneres video and thinking how nice she was. It impressed me that she could be nice and still be really, really funny. I’d not seen that before.
It’s not something that lends itself to one-liners or deadpan comics, being nice is it?
No but I’m not a line-merchant and I don’t like one-liner comedians. It’s intensely boring. There’s no emotional investment, so I stop caring after the third minute. I couldn’t sit through a Steven Wright concert. I think he’s terrific, but I need to engage emotionally in order to be taken.
I agree, but then, we’re women.I wonder if it’s the soundbite culture though?
Definitely. In the States most comedians are working up towards getting on television, Leno or Letterman. For that you need bite-size, fast food. Easily digestible jokes. If you look at those that have come up through the ranks and are doing well like Jimmy Carr that is their thing. It seems a very masculine form and very emotionally cold.
Do you not feel the need to make the audience laugh within thirty seconds of arriving on stage?
I don’t feel that pressure anymore. There’s a window of opportunity to ‘take your coat and off’ and relax. If you do that with confidence the audience trust you. And also, if they don’t like me, who gives a fuck. It’s not the worse thing that can happen. If a room full of people don’t go for my stuff, then they’re not my crowd. If I start with something conversational and chatty and they go ‘Well that’s not funny, you’re fucked’ then they’re not going to go for it regardless of what I do. I would just think, what a pack of cunts and sleepwalk through the next 20 minutes and not enjoy myself.
You’re a beautiful woman, can I ask if your appearance and grooming has had any effect on your comedy career. Have you ever been taken less seriously or felt any hostility because of your appearance?
Well firstly, thank you, that’s a really lovely thing to say but I don’t have anything to measure that by. How can I know? It’s like saying, ‘Would it be easier if I were a boy?’ If you walk on stage and you go, they’re hostile because I’m hot! you’d never develop as a comic. I think it’s a slippery slope to write off a room’s response that stupidly. The nice thing about comedy is it’s honest. If it’s not funny that’s why they’re not laughing. We’ve all had those bad introductions by the M.C. ‘And now for a laydeeeee’ – you just have to get used to it. I’m naturally scruffy so I haven’t had to curtail my high sense of fashion but some women do dress up. You have to be yourself. If you dress up and wear a dress and heels normally in life then don’t shave your head and wear a boiler suit for comedy. Know yourself. It’s a brutal environment. If you don’t know yourself, how can a room full of people? Listen to me, Oh God. What am I? Yoda?
Are there any Comedy Taboos?
No. Anything can be funny handled correctly.
Sarah Silverman has a scene in her show where God cups her face in his hand and she starts sucking his thumb and then she starts fucking God. Every time I think about that I explode with laughter. There were so many complaints of course. Only comedy buffs are going to like her fucking God. I think Taboos are quite jingoistic, it’s not really how we think. If something is done stupidly then it becomes offensive. I’ve seen some stupid stuff about terrorism but also I’ve seen some clever stuff which is truly inspired. When two planes fly into the twin towers during the day and by the evening someone has a great joke – that’s electrifying.
How do you deal with hecklers?
If I’m being heckled by someone really angry, I’m transfixed – I want to know why they’re like that. An older comic in Australia who was very generous, not a mentor exactly, but always gave good advice freely to new comics said to me once, “If you give them enough rope they’ll hang themselves.” I learnt the hard way though. I’ve made all sorts of mistakes and called people all sorts of names. But everyone feels violated, you walk off stage feeling dirty. If you’re not comfortable eyeballing someone and telling them they’re an idiot, don’t do it. Generally I try to ‘talk the person down off the ledge’.
Have you ever had ‘Banker gags’ stop working. Those gags that guarantee a laugh, that just stop being funny and you don’t know why?
It’s not a perfect science. You may need to drop it for a while. Yes that’s happened to me. It might be one word you’ve changed. Come back to it another time and it might work again. But also when it hasn’t worked the once, the next time you go to it, you’re approaching it with panic and you’re thinking, ‘ohhh… there’s that gag coming up and ohhhh god I really hope it works this time’…….. and so you’re not committed to it.
Have you ever really, really panicked?
The first time the wheels fell off completely it was traumatising. It was at the Melbourne Comedy Festival in 1999. I’d been given a 15 minute spot at the festival late night club with a really impressive line-up. Greg Fleet was M.C. who is hilarious and ‘tore the room a new arshole’ (was very good), then there was someone like Stewart Lee… and then me, the new comic. I crashed and burned so badly.
You died?
I died a dog’s death. It was very high profile, about 300 people and other comics of course. I sucked. I lost control of the room, people started chatting, going to the bar and I just kept going, because when you’re a new act you don’t have the tools to ad-lib and stop telling your jokes. I came off stage, went home and wept. I cried and cried under my blankets. I couldn’t get enough blankets over me, I was trying to bury myself with blankets and pillows. It was a dreadful feeling. Traumatic. Talking about it, it’s like talking about Vietnam or something! So many comedians are unpleasant people by the time they make it and you can see why.
It’s not something non-comedy friends understand is it?
Knowing other comedians is like having war-time buddies, you need them in the trenches. I can’t imagine being in a relationship with someone who didn’t understand. You have some genuinely rough times, you need that person to understand. You need a cuddle sometimes. You need to be able to talk to another person who knows exactly what it feels like to have a room full of people want you off the stage. And it is harder for girls. People are going to act like it isn’t but you don’t have the same authority as a man. This is not my Emily Pankhurst rant but there will be people in the audience who go ‘oh shit, it’s a woman’ when you walk on the stage. But if you ever mention it or touch on it, it’ll just sound like you’re being hysterical and are making excuses.
Read the Arts Hub review of Sarah Kendall’s 2007 Edinburgh show here.
