In Psycho, comedy becomes a sharp, vulnerable lens for exploring grief, addiction, mental health and America’s healthcare system. Jamie Wolf’s debut stand up show ‘Psycho’ will be at the Gilded Balloon Teviot – Wee Room at 9.40pm. Tickets are available here. We sat down with Jamie to discuss their upcoming performance.
Psycho explores deeply personal experiences through comedy — how do you decide where the balance lies between vulnerability and entertainment on stage?
I always lead with entertainment. If the show isn’t entertaining and is merely vulnerable, it really is better suited for a therapy session. Therapy is positive, and so is entertainment. I am just not convinced they should be the same thing. I also do not believe that vulnerability and entertainment are at opposite ends of a spectrum. In fact, I believe the two are deeply connected. The more vulnerable a performer, the more entertaining the show, in my opinion. And by “vulnerable” I do not mean sad or serious, I mean willing to say truthful things that might be considered risky or weird. How entertaining a show is, is in direct proportion to how willing the performer is to be vulnerable.
The show confronts grief, addiction and mental health with a lot of humour; do you think comedy can sometimes communicate difficult truths more honestly than drama can?
There is absolutely no question in my mind that comedy is a better genre for communicating difficult truths in a more palatable way than drama is. Is it more honest than drama? I cannot say (honestly). But I truly believe that people are more likely to absorb an idea when it is delivered comedically than when it’s communicated seriously.
You compare the American healthcare system with experiences elsewhere in the world — did performing internationally change your perspective on those conversations?
Absolutely. There were some parts of the American healthcare system I assumed were unusual that actually weren’t that strange (lots of countries have the OPTION of private health insurance, for instance). And there were parts of the American healthcare system I found out were less normal (in an emergency, Americans pretty much universally default to ordering an Uber instead of an ambulance).
Your material is intensely personal but also highly joke-driven; how have you developed a style that allows serious subjects to feel both sharp and accessible to audiences?
My natural inclination is towards the most personal subjects. The things I feel uncomfortable talking about offstage are almost always the subjects I want to talk about onstage. This inclination, coupled with the fact almost all of my sets are in comedy clubs, creates the material you see. Crowds at comedy clubs are not Fringe crowds: they don’t care about your story, or you as a person. They just want to hear jokes and punchlines, so my really personal material needs to have them. Also: it’s a comedy show. If I wanted to bum people out I’d be a bouncer at a nightclub. I just want you to laugh.
You’ve spoken openly about bombing early in your stand-up career — how important was failure in shaping the comedian you are now?
It’s a funny question because the career of a comedian really is nothing BUT learning from failure. The new joke doesn’t work, the new tag fell flat. And you have to figure out what that means, and how to fix it for the next show. I have seen the biggest comedians in the world at the Comedy Cellar, trying new material. It never goes well. There is no point at which you 100% figure it out. You just get more skilled at handling those situations, and separating useful information from noise. Every comic bombs. The only difference between the greatest comics and newest comics is that the time it takes to go from “zero laughs” to “bulletproof” gets shorter as you get more experience.
Performing Psycho at the Fringe marks your Edinburgh debut; what excites you most about bringing such an emotionally charged and distinctly American story to UK audiences?
I am just genuinely so excited to perform this show, it’s truly the best thing I’ve ever created. It’s a really crazy story that touches on a bunch of topics that are universal: anxiety, depression: hey, even waterparks. I perform regularly in NYC at clubs that typically have audiences where 25-50% of them are from the UK. These jokes work for UK crowds. European crowds, too. The only thing that makes the show distinctly American is my accent and the fact I am in mountains of medical debt.