Jeff Dunham talks to the hand
THE VENTRILOQUIST’S work ethic and array of sidekicks have brought notice to an often-maligned form of comedy
To purists, the only kind of comedy that counts is standup. Smashing watermelons to smithereens — hello, Gallagher — is not considered comedy by this group. And demonstrating how to use seatbelt-equipped toilet seats for those who have overindulged in tacos — hello, Carrot Top — is about as humorous as herpes to purists. In fact, anyone who dares to call themselves a comic and takes to the stage with an inanimate object is subject to scrutiny.
Which brings us to the wonderful world of ventriloquism, also hardly construed as comedy by some. However, Jeff Dunham, who brings his array of wooden sidekicks to the Bell Centre on Sunday, views his act as ventriloquism standup comedy, and doubters be damned.
Dunham knows full well that there is a double standard in comedy. He is also abundantly aware that to most comics and critics, Louis C.K. is king, Aziz Ansari and Bill Hader are clown princes and Jerry Seinfeld is an honorary jester. And that he barely registers on their radar.
And yet — much to the astonishment of many, myself included — it is Dunham who has been hailed by no less than the New York Times Magazine as “the most successful comedian working in America.” Dunham was also declared by Pollstar as having the “No. 1 comedy tour in North America for three years running as well as (the) top worldwide tour for the third year in a row.”
Dunham fills more seats and grosses more cash than any comic in the biz. His videos — pairing him with buddies Peanut, Walter the curmudgeon and Achmed the Dead Terrorist — have been viewed by more than 500 million fans. His latest show, Minding the Monsters, which broke records when it aired on Comedy Central in the U.S., went platinum six days after being released on DVD.
And expect more records to break when the man they call “the hardest-working hand” in showbiz completes his latest world odyssey, the Disorderly Conduct tour. It began last month in Canada, makes a pit stop here Sunday (note that the starting time at the Bell Centre is 5 p.m.) and will bring him and his suitcase of cronies around the U.S. through next year.
Call him what you might, but Dunham ain’t no dummy — even if he did decide to tour Canada in the winter. There is a method to his apparent delirium.
“Minding the Monsters was the No. 1 show ever broadcast on the (Canadian) Comedy Network,” trumpets Dunham, 50, in a phone interview. “Also, we decided on hitting Canada first because of the election-business mess going on in the U.S. — we wanted to go somewhere to have some fun and not get caught up in it all.”
Evidently, Sault Ste. Marie, where Dunham performed last month, can be fun to some.
Dunham admits that the ongoing problem of ventriloquists trying to get respect from certain quarters is irksome, but also a motivator of sorts.
“If you’re not a straight chronologist in the standup world, if you’re on stage with anything other than yourself, if you come on with any kind of prop or variety act, then you’re not a pure comic,” he says. “Anybody like that, be it a magician or a guitar-comic, is always looked down upon by many in that world. On top of that, the stigma of being a ventriloquist is even worse. I’ve struggled with that for a long time.
“But on the bright side, we’ve got a whole generation of young people who I don’t think have been so jaded. They don’t know that ven- triloquism is supposed to be lame,” Dunham cracks.
Further clouding the image of ventriloquists is that they tend to be portrayed on screen as dark and twisted, and sometimes under the control of diabolical dummies who come to life. Think Magic, with Anthony Hopkins, or Dead Silence, or the 1929 classic The Great Gabbo — flicks that forever creep many folks out.
“Honestly, I can see why that is,” Dunham says. “It is kind of odd when you step back and look at what you’re doing. Really, it’s not quite normal. People who talk to themselves usually have a problem. And what can you make of a ventriloquist who is answering himself ? Every comic probably has a dark side. I guess how well you control that dark side is what matters most.”
Dunham finds the parallels between his career and that of Hopkins in Magic particularly eerie. “He also plays a ventriloquist who moves to Los Angeles, who gets a William Morris agent, who gets on the Tonight Show. Every step of the way is exactly what happened to me, except when Hopkins kills his William Morris agent. I haven’t done that. Not yet, anyway.”
Dunham credits the late, great Edgar Bergen — actor, radio broadcaster and perhaps the most renowned ventriloquist of them all — for bringing respect to his métier.
“On Bergen’s radio show in the 1930s and ’40s, he took ventriloquism from a vaudeville sideshow to a mainstream entertainment event with his sidekick Charlie McCarthy,” Dunham says. “But since Bergen, while there has been Señor Wences and Shari Lewis, there really haven’t been very many ventriloquists who have been headliners.”
Dunham, born in Dallas, got his start in ventriloquism when he was 8. His parents bought him a Mortimer Snerd dummy — also created by Bergen — for Christmas. The following day, he found a how-to book on ventriloquism at the library, and Dunham hasn’t stopped talking to and answering himself ever since.
“I started doing shows soon after and was having so much fun that there was no reason for me to quit. I never got a real job. But I never take the job for granted. I fully real- ize that fame is a fleeting thing, and you never know how long your 15 minutes is going to last. I just try to keep the audiences happy, and the formula seems to work.”
What sets Dunham apart is that he has a whole slew of sidekicks, while most ventriloquists rely on one dummy. Among others, he pulls the levers on the curmudgeonly Walter, the hyper Peanut, the beerguzzling Bubba J, the smooth-talk- ing Sweet Daddy Dee, Melvin the Superhero Guy, the controversial and skeletal Achmed the Dead Terrorist and the latter’s estranged offspring, Achmed Junior.
“Having that many dummies can also be a trap,” he says. “It’s kind of like jumping the shark in a sitcom. Like bringing in Fonzie’s uncle. I think my handful of characters are well defined. What I’ve done with those characters is hopefully create something for everybody, whether it’s the grumpy Walter or the unbridled Peanut. Achmed the Dead Terrorist is the wild card? Where did that come from?”
That’s what some of Dunham’s detractors want to know, too. They feel Achmed is a racist caricature, although Dunham insists the corpse-like character is not a Muslim and has even considered changing his name to Bill (thanks a bunch!).
“I think it’s all in the material for people to interpret. I do draw the line with this character. There are certain things you can joke about and certain things that are taboo, where I won’t go. As a performer, you have to know where that line is that makes your audience comfortable.”
Dunham also likes to point out to his critics that he is an equal-opportunity insulter. He takes shots at everyone. “But mostly myself,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s a political thing or a ventriloquism thing, but some people tend to think I’m way right, even though I try to make fun of both sides as much as possible.
“But the reality is that the dummies are pretty much making more fun of me than I am of anybody else. I love that. Regardless what some may think, I don’t take myself too seriously. I know things have come far and gone well, but there is a part of me that goes, ‘This is the biggest, goofiest thing that’s ever happened to anybody.’ ”