By Kate Masters
Comedian Hal Sparks has jumped around the U.S. map, from his childhood picking tobacco leaves in Kentucky to a stint in Chicago as a member of the renowned Second City Troupe. Since then, he’s hit up California for a gig on E!’s “Talk Soup” and roles on shows like “Queer as Folk” and Disney XD’s “Lab Rats.”
Now, Hal is headed to Northern Virginia to headline the Arlington Cinema and Draft House on June 27 and 28. We spoke to the jet-setting joker before his show to find out more about his act and his advice for aspiring comics.
To start, can you talk about your act at the Arlington Cinema and Draft House and what the audience can expect to hear?
I’ve actually performed at the Arlington Draft House before. It’s a great venue, one of my favorites in the entire country, and not just because after my show I can stick around and watch a movie if I want to. The nature of my act has drifted into futurism, so a lot of what I talk about is about is actually where we’re going as a culture and the inevitable issues that arise from our speedy movement in technology along to a kind of unchecked technological utopia/dystopia.
And what drew you to that sort of material for your act?
It’s my own natural inklings that drew me to it. I’m a big fan of technology, I’m a huge fan of science fiction and futurism, and I’m a science nerd, so the mix of those things just makes sense. I’ve found that if I make jokes about the future, I’m not making the same jokes as anyone else because I’m making jokes about things that haven’t happened yet. It gives me a lot more room to be original than just talking about cats and dogs and relationships and some of the normal aspects of observational comedy. If I have a piece that I really think redefines that stuff, I’ll write it, but for the most part, I find it more useful on a sociological level to talk about stuff that relieves the pressure of our modern technological attachments.
That’s pretty unique material. How do you think your audience reacts to it?
They laugh. A lot. I mean, that’s the goal I’m going for. Stand-up is the only art forms that only has one appropriate response: laughter. You can watch a dramatic film and cry or not cry and it will still be an effective portrayal of emotion to you. You can listen to a piece of music and dance or not dance and you’ll still say that’s your favorite song. But comedy only works if I can convulse your diaphragm and make you bark air out of your neck. That’s sort of all I care about insofar as this particular art form. The content of what I’m talking about is secondary to that—it has to be, because that’s just the nature of the job.
The other thing is that it gives me the room to be more equality-based in my comedy, instead of dealing with the accidental misogyny or racism or homophobia that so often comes up in modern joke writing—either purposeful or accidental. I think it relaxes the audience because I will offend people’s philosophies, but never their souls.
Do you think your comedy has evolved, then? When you were first starting out, did you ever find yourself being offensive?
No, I’ve never had an inclination to go in that direction with my comedy, but I have made the effort to specifically not do that. As a matter of fact, I find that I get a broader audience even though I swear in my act and I talk about things that would normally be considered kind of adult-ish humor. I still find that women and old people and gay people and the entire LGBT community, actually, feel very comfortable at my shows because it’s a safe space to laugh about where we all are. I have absolutely over the last decade set an ethical divide in how I address things. I’m sure it’s to some degree at the expense of some kind of quicker growth in popularity and fame. It creates a slow road to the level you want to be as a comedian.
Do you have any advice for comedians who are trying to reach the same level of success that you’ve accomplished?
I’ve always believed that in the beginning, your two biggest weapons as a comedian are arrogance and stupidity. You have to be arrogant enough to believe that people will want to hear what you’re going to say before you’ve ever done it, because you can’t practice standup in a vacuum. And you have to be stupid enough to believe that the statistics about artists like actors and comedians don’t apply to you, that you’re going to make it anyway. You have to be stupid to think that, but it’s a level of foolish bravado that’s necessary.
As a comedian, you also have to be completely at ease in front of the audience. You have to believe in yourself enough to stand up there. It’s a big fear that most people have, that fear of public speaking. You already have to be more comfortable than they can ever imagine themselves being to even be up on stage. If you show a weak spot, you make them nervous and upset, and they don’t have the freedom to laugh.
Was there ever a single moment when you realized that you could make it as a comedian?
The one joke of mine where I realized I had it, I was talking about growing up on a farm in Kentucky. My job was to pick the tobacco worms off the tobacco leaves and squish them with my fingers. That was my job—just pull them off and squish them. It was totally gross, but it was important that we do it because they carry disease, and God forbid there should be disease in tobacco leaves, people might get sick. That was just the essence of the joke. And I managed to get a laugh and say something at the same time, it was that simple. That was an a-ha moment for me.
Hal Sparks at Arlington Cinema and Drafthouse
2903 Columbia Pike, Arlington
Friday, June 27: 10 p.m.; Saturday, June 28: 7:30 and 10 p.m.
Tickets, GA $20