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Snub par
Chicago's second-banana comedy fest eats its words when faced with success.
Angie McMahon never wanted to snub anyone. Three years ago, frustrated that she’d been snubbed herself by a comedy festival, the local comic threw a pity party at the Cornservatory—a four-night catchall uniting rebuked sketch comics, improvisers and stand-ups from around the country—and dubbed it Snubfest. There were straight-up talent showcases, Last Snob Standing comedy competitions and lots of booze. Its logo, a prominent middle finger, was all that needed to be said to higher-profile festivals like Chicago Sketchfest (with which its schedule coincides) and the Chicago Improv Festival.
For the first two years, everyone who applied to Snubfest got in. The only catch: They had to be snubbed by a festival during the previous year. But this year’s fest saw an unexpected abundance of applicants—twice as many as last year, with huge growth in the “top talent” sector—and McMahon found herself with a lineup as relevant as the city’s other fests. In a cruel bit of irony, it came at the expense of snubbing half the comics. “People weren’t happy,” she says.Why would any self-respecting artist jockey for a slot in a reject fest, you ask? This once outsider affair has garnered a reputation as a festival of opportunity, thrusting performers into coveted slots at major comedy fests and venues around the country—all of which are now eager to play along.
“Snubfest used to be a lonely hearts club,” says Jonathan Pitts, cofounder of the Chicago Improv Festival and a judge for this year’s American Idol–style sketch and improv Last Snob Standing contest, “but now it’s a way to get up the ladder—to be seen, to become known, and to move forward to other festivals.”
On the line this year are slots at the L.A., Phoenix and Twin Cities improv festivals; a sketch spot at the Lowell Comedy Festival near Boston; and for the stand-ups, stints at the New York Underground Comedy Festival and Chicago’s Lincoln Lodge. With judges such as Bert Haas from Zanies and Tony Baldino from the Improv, the ante is certainly upped for performers.
Because of the heated competition for any slot in Snubfest ’07, applicants scrambled to give off just the right castaway-talent vibe; they had to seem good, but not too good. Experienced comedians, like Marz Timms of the popular group Pimprov (which is exactly what it sounds like), found cunning ways to distance themselves from their success. Timms, who will also host Sunday 14’s show, landed a slot in Friday 12’s competition after breaking from his fellow pimprovisers and entering as a stand-up. His blue act, which includes “rape jokes, dead prostitute jokes…[and] the fuck word,” may not fly at a mainstream fest, but will sit just fine with this group.
Local stand-up staple T.J. Miller wisely played up his rejection from the Montreal Comedy Festival and tip-toed around his recent acceptance to the big-time February U.S. Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen and his sketch group’s (Heavyweight) show at Sketchfest Saturday 13. “At Snubfest I feel I can test out some riskier material,” he says.
South Florida group Name Change Pending Extreme Improv—whose members admit they are practically blacklisted from the Miami Improv Festival—are, for the second year in a row, flying in for a Friday time slot. Last year’s outrageous set, which included a game where audience members flogged performers during a scene, won the group a side-stage slot at last year’s Chicago Improv Festival.
“You are more apt to see performers rolling the dice at Snubfest,” Pitts says, “but now that they’re actually snubbing people themselves, I’m interested to see if that fringe, underground quality is still there.”
Snubfest may no longer be underground, but at least in comedy, popularity and defiance aren’t always mutually exclusive.
