Cutting-Edge Comics Shake Up Washington with Truths You Won't See on Cable Chat Shows

With the capital being torn apart by partisan fighting over everything from health care reform to Afghanistan, the last two weeks in Washington, D.C have seen a bonanza of comic talent descend on a laugh-starved city. Thanks to the Bentzen Ball organized by blogger hipsters-turned-entrepeneurs Brightest Young Things and L.A. comic Tig Notaro, America's edgiest comedians came to town. They included Sarah Silverman, Todd Barry, Mary Lynn Rajskub ("Chloe" on 24) and Patton Oswalt, along with other rising stars in comedy and story-telling, offering conventional-minded D.C. a rare opportunity to both laugh and think.

Those of us lucky enough to attend some of the shows packed in over a four-day weekend were exposed to everything from shocking comedy about politics to hilarious humor about the hassles of everyday life to fresh ways at looking at the world around us -- including such intractable social issues as teaching in inner-city schools, as shown through the fractured true-tales unveiled in the remarkable one-man show, "Call Me Mr. Fry," by L.A. teacher Jack Freiberg, offered last week in a separate showcase at the, yes, federal Department of Education.

Even on the most left-wing TV and radio shows, you still don't get to hear right-wingers, the "Tea Baggers" and the insanity of the politics surrounding health care reform taken on with such venomous -- and scabrous -- intensity as some of th comedians brought to the live stages around town. Lizz Winstead, the co-founder of "The Daily Show," who is regularly convulsing audiences as part of the parody right-morning show she created, "Wake Up World," took after everyone from Harry Reid for his convoluted waffling on the public option to Liz Cheney, described as "the most unfuckable vampire" you might see on a show like "True Blood."

And in the tradition of Mort Sahl, she was able to use reality that can't be made up -- in this case, skewering a new drug to help women grow longer, thicker eyelashes, Latisse, and its spokesmodel Brooke Shields. It serves as a perfect emblem for the crazed priorities in our health care system -- and since it has to be applied carefully at night before bed, only poses a few minor minor risks: possible blindness if misapplied and unintended hair growth. "That's worth it," she joked.

Genuine shock in political comedy came from a 30-year-old comic, Duncan Trussell, carrying on in the taboo-smashing tradition of Lenny Bruce, if not necessarily with all his brilliance. He'll be seen in HBO's upcoming series "Funny or Die." While liberal pundits have bemoaned the ugliness of our political life generated by right-wing Obama hatred and the rise in unhinged, potentially dangerous extremism, Trussell zeroed in on their crazed zealotry in fresh ways. He observed, for instance, that the "Tea Baggers" looked like the bizarre hillbilly killers in The Hills Have Eyes. So much for the much-vaunted Republican base. He added, "They're calling Obama the anti-Christ because they can't call him n****r," at least in public. "Anti-Christ is the second worst name they can think of to call him," he noted. He then mimicked them struggling with their racist impulses, "He's a n-n-n-...Nigerian!"

But as he moved into describing Obama's very real danger because of the unfettered extremist rhetoric at loose in the land, comparing him to "Martin Luther King, JFK and Gandhi all rolled up into an assassination omelet," the crowd grew uneasy and laughter stilled, because he was putting in blunter terms what respected commentators, such as Rachel Maddow, and Pultizer Prize-winner Thomas Friedman have talked about in somewhat more circumspect terms. Friedman, a centrist, had observed, " Something very dangerous is happening. Criticism from the far right has begun tipping over into delegitimation and creating the same kind of climate here that existed in Israel on the eve of the Rabin assassination." Trussell was framing the same point in a theatrical way, presenting a dangerous reality we'd rather not look at close up, even as virtually all GOP leaders have done nothing whatsoever to calm the violent rhetoric and hatred spewing upward from the most fanatical and unhinged members of their frenzied "base," and instead have essentially fanned it. Trussell's comments were shocking, offensive, and not exactly funny, and yet they were addressing a harsh truth that's being generally swept under the rug as GOP leaders aren't being held accountable for their pandering to the most extremist members in their base.

Some of the comics challenged conventional thinking in a more profound way, by challenging our very notions about what a stand-up act is supposed to be about in the first place. How can you have comedy without standard one-liners, or monologues, or efforts to ingratiate yourself with your audience? Here's how: The heavy-set African-American comedian Reggie Watts, winner, aptly, of the Andy Kaufman award, combines lightning-fast improvisation, multiple characters from a teen-age party girl to a Japanese telecom executive to a DC street hustler with uncanny accuracy, all supplemented with his own unique electronically looped musical vocals. He's like the Jimi Hendrix of comedy, from some future world where words fly almost as fast as thoughts and all of us are just characters in some genius's mad mash-up. He show can't be properly condensed into brief videos or five-minute routines, although he's been a guest on the Jimmy Fallon show. And so he can't be easily packaged and sold as a comedy commodity, but it's a sign of his power as a performer that no matter who else is on the bill, even TV veterans like Todd Barry with their own comedy specials, Watts always closes the show. Like James Brown or Hendrix himself in the music world, no one wants to follow him.

The heart that underlies all great comedy, whether it's rage at a failing system and human hypocrisy or the potent brew of laughs and poignance seen in a Chaplin and a Pryor, kept beating among the best of the comics and story-tellers who came to town. Last week, while definitely not part of the Bentzen Ball festival, the Department of Education hosted the one-man show called "Call Me Mr. Fry," earlier seen in theaters and fringe festivals around the country and scheduled for off-Broadway later this year, that throws a spotlight on the challenges still facing teachers every day in our inner cities -- even as debate rages over how to improve teacher quality and the shortcoming of the "No Child Left Behind" act. All that, though, is just a backdrop for Freiberg's warm, funny and touching look at the lives of the students he's tried to reach. As the DC Theater Scene observed (he also got good reviews in the Washington Post) when he was here for the Capital Fringe Festival:

If you could conjure up someone who could get across the magic, frustration, horror and satisfaction of teaching in the California public school system, out would pop Jack Freiberger, mercifully shortened to Mister Frey. Filled with enough impersonations of characters to fill a school yard and the principal's office, this production has enough heart, audacity, and originality to stand out from the crowd, mainly because of the artistry of Jack Fry...

Far from Blackboard Jungle and Mean Streets and all the tough kid tales in between, this story works because in addition to the characterizations being so realistic, the people actually exist. From tough guy Anthony and his father-figure Uncle, to jumpy, jittery Jasmine who desperately seeks her Mom's attention, Fry has their mannerisms down cold in moments and scenes that are heartbreakingly real and honest. His interjections of humor are not forced but are as much part of the message as the family pictures he projects on the screen of the true to life characters.

Fry also relays the frustration of dealing with the sometimes tyrannical rules and regulations of the public school system. He does this strange shadow dance in trying to break up a fight without touching anybody. When officials visit to examine the school's adherence to the "No Child Left Behind" lock-step policies, he announces them with musical refrains from the Star Wars battling battalions. Finally, with sophisticated audiovisual and light cues, balloon props, hushed tones for somber moods, and shoot from the heart delivery, Fry offers a completely original approach to slipping into the minds and hearts of middle schoolers on the brink of self-discovery, empowerment and personal freedom.

They Call Me Mister Frey is a fresh new take on an ongoing challenge that isn't going away any time soon -- what does it take to keep young idealistic teachers in the classroom where they're most needed before they get as burned out as crispy critters? Against all the odds, Fry is still in South Central, and we're thrilled that he's using some of his precious summer break to share his inspiring observations with us.

The video now online really doesn't do him or the show justice, but it offers a preview of a show that anyone who care about teaching, kids or our economic future should see: