A Youngish Perspective talks to Sam Williams, writer and performer of NOLI ME TANGERE, a work in progress comedy show by a Christian that most Christians will absolutely hate, exploring the complexities of life as a queer person of faith.
How do you balance humour with the serious themes of faith and queerness in your show, and what inspired you to create a comedy space exploring these personal topics?
Fundamentally, the show’s message is that the closest we can come to knowing God isn’t through conversion – it’s through having absolutely ecstatic intercourse with someone you love and trust. You ask about balance – this is a stand-up show, so really my goal is to utterly eschew the seriousness – holier than thou attitudes are a surefire way of alienating audiences. I don’t think faith or queerness are serious themes if they are treated with the levity that making an hour-long comedy show requires. I am interested in the mode of relation that is centred in the Christian life, but also in any life that has the call to love, which has no religion, at its centre.
Your show is described as something that “most Christians will absolutely hate.” How do you navigate the challenge of addressing faith while keeping the material both thought-provoking and funny?
I keep it thought-provoking and funny by meeting the audience in terms that can be accessed by anyone, regardless of their relationship with faith and religion. This is not an hour of observational standup about God or some other nonsense. Comedians observe: God is unobservable. It would be incredibly tiresome to watch someone do stand-up about something no one can see. My show is about relationships: God doesn’t get much of a mention, because as a person I am more interested in people. How we relate to each other and the world says more about our relationship with divinity than a sermon cloaked in jokes. I think a lot of what’s funny about this area comes from the walking contradiction that I represent, as a queer person who only felt fully connected to their faith when I lost my an*l virginity.
Performing on Valentine’s Day brings a unique energy to a show. Do you tailor your material differently for this kind of audience, and how does the romantic context influence your performance?
Fortunately, the tone and content of this show has taken a substantial turn since my work in progress shows in December, so it’s now a perfect Valentine’s Day watch because it hinges on a love story. NOT ABOUT BEING IN LOVE WITH JESUS, I should say. Christians are notoriously deceptive when it comes to when they are actually talking about Him. It is about falling in love with a person whose look totally transformed my sense of self and my relation to others as a queer person. The show examines romantic love, familial love, I suppose Christian love, what that should or can actually look like if we are to liberate the world from its late capitalist shackles (through sex and communal acts of forgiveness). I don’t want people to go to Church after: I want them to sh*g.
You’ve had tremendous success online with over 100 million views. How has that digital exposure shaped your live performances, and do you find the in-person comedy space more rewarding or challenging?
It can be strange because online success requires comedians to distil their act down to very narrow essential traits. I sometimes worry that people will think of me as one note for constantly making reels and TikToks about bisexuality and gender fluidity. I only do it in the hope that people will come to see me live, where we can all be off our phones for an hour. Live comedy is just so much better, and when it’s good, it’s an exalting experience: people exchanging words and laughter in a room, together. (this is a WIP so quality is variable x)
You mention Orthodox mystical theology and its arguments for queer liberation—how do you incorporate these philosophical ideas into a comedy set while keeping it accessible to a wider audience?
I wrote this show description after spending a week at a monastery, so I was very spaced out when I sent it. I absolutely hate navel gazing ‘standup’ about philosophical ideas that fails to ground flighty concepts in the stuff and dirt and absurdity of real life. I have sat in too many shows where I’ve thought, well I’m just watching a dissertation, so it’s no surprise that it isn’t very funny. Please don’t let the mention of theology put you off coming – there is no philosophical pondering in this show.
Orthodox theology calls for a revolution of love in human relationships. Romantically, communally, economically, familiarly – equitable love requires a total redistribution of how we share and celebrate and liberate ourselves from the burdens of being human. This isn’t a funny sentiment in isolation, but when applied as a framework for re-examining the world and my relationship with it, the contradiction between this ideal and how I actually live – how we actually live – creates very fruitful ground for comedy.
Accessibility has always been the guiding star for my standup. This is my first hour long show, so there’s no point playing it safe with the subject matter. I want to go over the parapet doing something interesting, even if the end result falls short of being a qualified ‘success’, whatever that is. I am inviting people into contradictory parts of my life that are so central – queerness, faith, getting p*gg*d as a means of knowing God – because it is through doing this that I can offer new ways of seeing and laughing to a wider audience.
Noli Me Tangere will be at the Pleasance Theatre 14th Feb. Ticket and info https://www.pleasance.co.uk/event/sam-williams-noli-me-tangere-work-progress