Nick Swardson is like a bad Dane Cook.
Actually, a very insightful co-worker pointed out to me that Dane Cook is a bad Dane Cook.
Swardson, known for his role as Terry, a gay, roller-skating prostitute on the recently departed Comedy Central show “Reno 911!,” is full of unoriginal, sophomoric jokes that appeal to only the most stereotypically vapid bros who wear board shorts, backward baseball caps and puka shell necklaces without any sense of self-awareness.
Throughout Swardson’s special, he combines stand-up comedy with stereotypical frat-boy humor about drunk chicks, bar fights, partying, booze, getting wasted, alcohol poisoning and just for a change of pace, ninjas.
I’m not sure if this counts as a spoiler, but the basic structure of his jokes are as follows: He points out a zany situation and then acts out an example using a funny voice and some slapstick physical stunt.
In one particularly unremarkable segment, he talks about how all girls like ’80s-themed parties, then imitates a Valley girl’s reaction to being invited to a party hosted by Osama bin Laden. He shows her initial disgust and then her reaction upon finding out it is ’80s-themed.
“What time does it start? … I’ll just go for half an hour,” he says in the funny voice. The crowd goes wild.
Though that might have been a dull summary, it was equally dull to watch on screen.
It’s a shame, too, because humor is a powerful means of social commentary, using the absurd to point out the flaws and injustices of society. Legends of stand-up comedy such as Richard Pryor and George Carlin earned their places in history by making insightful commentary on issues such as racism and free speech, and it was genuinely funny because their jokes pointed out the truth in a clever, intelligent manner.
Comedy is not required to be some epic form of activism or intellectual fodder for a graduate-level thesis, but it should at least be original and fresh.
Even “South Park,” with its crude humor, usually at least makes a point, however superficial, while entertaining viewers.
Here, however, Swardson’s act is not just tired and cliche, it’s downright shallow and empty. He does not seem to take inspiration from comedy greats Pryor and Carlin, but it appears that he’s taking cues from box-office successes such as Adam Sandler and George Lopez, who, quite frankly, are not very funny.
In comedy clubs all around the country, there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of subpar, uninteresting comedians cracking bad jokes onstage to a bored, restless audience. Swardson doesn’t exactly rise above their level.
His observations about “crazy jobs” such as working as an Ultimate Fighting Championship fighter or how senior citizens can use senility as an excuse to pull crazy pranks are not so much offensive as they are unoriginal and pointless.
As hard as one can try, it’s impossible to find any biting, witty commentary in his shtick about the perils and frustrations of online gaming or his cheap jokes involving homosexuality.
The little charm in his mannerisms are not enough to make this special very tolerable. It’s acceptable viewing if there’s nothing else on, or if your remote control stops working, and you are too lazy to get up and change the channel.
To be fair, the audience cracks up as he ponders the funniest ways to commit suicide or describes how he lost $300 to a spider monkey in Las Vegas, though it may be a sign that some people will laugh at anything.
There’s always going to be an audience for tasteless humor, but a much smaller one for the bland type that Swardson delivers.
““ Edward Truong
E-mail Truong at etruong@media.ucla.edu.