This week, we’re highlighting 24 talented writers and performers for Vulture’s annual list “The Comedians You Should and Will Know.” Our goal is to introduce a wider audience to the talent that has the comedy community and industry buzzing. (You can read more about our methodology at the link above.) We asked the comedians on the list to answer a series of questions about their work, performing, goals for the future, and more. Next up is Vic Michaelis.
Tell us a story from your childhood that you think might explain why you ended up becoming a comedian.
I can’t wait to read everyone else’s cute stories, and I promise I’ll have cute stories later on, but this one is maybe a little sad? I spent a ton of time by myself as a kid. I was raised by a wonderful single dad who traveled a lot growing up. Because of our unique family situation, we were the center of a lot of town gossip. It was the type of town run by the PTA and local church.
In my area, the HBIC in both cases was a woman we’ll call Claire. She was locally famous because she was in a regional commercial, and there was talk she was going to be on an episode of ER. It was back-to-school night, and Claire and her gang were whispering and pointing at my dad and I, and I watched out of body in horror as my father walked over to them. I am literally willing myself to melt into the floor, as surely being grout is better than my dad confronting my biggest bully — a 42-year-old actor. And literally a second later, they’re all laughing. Claire is loudest. It was then it really clicked for me how powerful making people laugh could be, and it was all I wanted to do. It changed my life. I mean, not immediately — I was still a pretty weird kid — but eventually, yes, it changed my life.
If you were immortalized as a cartoon character, what would your outfit be?
I love vintage items, so I know this is maybe cheating, but I’d tailor Fred’s outfit and ascot from the original Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! to my body. I’m keeping my hair and adding a platform to the shoe, but everything else Fred.
What’s your proudest moment/achievement of your comedy career so far?
Just a side note: I am an improviser. I am going to be talking about that a lot, and I know it makes some people’s eyes roll, but I love it and think it’s cool.
To that end, working in improv spaces is a ladder of hands. The only way to climb is by someone above you pulling you up. It’s how I started working at Dropout, which changed my life completely. I am on a show over there called Very Important People, and one of my greatest joys in that is being in a position to help get my friends hired. I think the people I perform with are the most talented people on the planet, and watching them shine has been a pleasure.
Which comedian’s career trajectory would you most like to follow?
The landscape of comedy is changing so rapidly it’s hard to say whose trajectory is landing them where these days. I love comedy-based folks who really lean into acting and use their success to choose their work. Lisa Kudrow, Paul F. Tompkins, and Quinta Brunson are all people I would love to follow. I want to pick projects because they’re artistically satisfying, seem fun, or are mine.
Tell us everything about your worst show ever. (It can involve venue, audience, other acts on the lineup, anything!)
Improv is an interesting art form because typically upon hearing there will be an improv show, at worst people are mad and at best people think it’s going to be Whose Line Is It Anyway?, and sometimes you get yelled at by a hometown famous rapper.
When I was first starting out, my indie team got booked on a show at a venue none of us were familiar with through someone’s cousin. When we arrived to check in, we realized we would be performing at a club. Not a comedy club, a club club — as in bottle service and David Guetta. My best guess is this booker thought we were doing stand-up, and he was hoping we would say funny things while hyping up the crowd as the DJs switched out. What he was not expecting was six overeager improvisers looking for a one-word suggestion to get started.
We had been paid (a very small amount of money) upfront, so the show had to go on. The DJs were so mad we were there they wouldn’t turn the music down and laid on the horn sound effect every time we tried talking. The whole thing ended with a locally known rapper getting the entire club to chant “Muppets” until we left the stage.
What have you learned about your own joke-writing process that you didn’t know when you started?
To be honest, the biggest thing I’ve learned is that if I’m not doing things outside of comedy, I have nothing to pull from. Sometimes I get so caught up in shows and work I forget to do things that make me a complete person. I’ve learned it’s not only okay but necessary to take a break and live my life or everything becomes self-referential and boring. I try to do things I am bad at and work on things that require spending actual time with people I love. Comedy requires so much of your heart that if it’s empty, it’s noticeable.
What’s the biggest financial hurdle you’ve encountered since becoming a comedian?
I have chosen perhaps the most expensive path to becoming a comedian, in that to step onstage, thousands of dollars of classes are required. I got myself in a weird visa situation where I needed to be a full-time student in order to keep my status in Canada. At the time, Upright Citizens Brigade was an accredited institution, so I had to keep “full course loads’” worth of classes for the first year I lived in L.A. When I finally paid off my credit card, I cut it up and didn’t get a new one until last year.
At the end of the movie 8 Mile, Eminem’s character, B-Rabbit, starts his final battle rap by dissing himself so the person he’s battling has nothing left to attack. How would you roast yourself so the other person would have nothing to say?
I got 8 Mile and Green Mile confused. What does that have to do with this question? Nothing, but I feel like I had to be honest.
Riddled with learning disabilities? Spends USD on in-app purchases for my little phone game? Brown hair? The green M&M is looking at me in stunned silence.
When it comes to your comedy opinions — about material, performing, audience, trends you want to kill/revive, the industry, etc. — what hill will you die on?
Comedy videos on social media aren’t going anywhere (anytime soon), and you don’t have to participate, but it is a valid form of comedy! Comedy is supposed to be fun, and making videos for people to see without putting studio-quality lighting and sound behind them is a really cool way to see if your ideas resonate with folks.
What is the best comedy advice, and then the worst comedy advice, you’ve ever received?
Recently, Naomi Ekperigin said something to the effect of “Right now I’m losing jobs I didn’t even know were possibilities,” and God, that just smacked me right in the chest. It’s a big-picture thought. I never thought I would be standing here. I really wanted to guest perform on ASSSSCAT as a long-term comedy goal when I first got to L.A., and last month I was telling my partner I was sad I couldn’t make any of the ASSSSCAT shows because I was touring and working. It’s wonderful, and life changes fast.
Worst advice would be someone, when I first started doing improv, told me the only way to play characters was by doing different accents, so for my first six months, every show I would be “Guy From New York” and “Southern Mom” and “Vaguely Eastern European Aerobics Instructor.” Honestly, that last one sounds like maybe there’s something there. Dibs on Vaguely Eastern European Aerobics Instructor.
More From This Series
- Eagle Witt Plans to Keep It Diabolical
- Emil Wakim’s Parents Finally Understand His Job Now
- Gianmarco Soresi Demands Inclusive Bullying in Comedy
- Veronika Slowikowska’s Got Magic to Do
