Recap Demetri Martin & Special Guests, Who Are Also Comedians And Are Friends Of His at the Chicago Theatre

The person that greets the audience at the start of a comedy show is not normally the headlining comedian, but Demetri Martin is not a normal stand-up. Martin not only curated Demetri Martin & Special Guests, Who Are Also Comedians And Are Friends Of His, but he also opted to host the show rather than simply waiting around to perform last. This subtle shift in the show’s dynamic made for a cohesive-yet-diverse evening of comedy.

Martin’s short-lived Comedy Central show, Important Things, acted as a gateway for many viewers into the world of alternative (or, “alt,” if you must) comedy. The show’s accessible quirk seemed distilled from the pulp of a thousand unproduced Wes Anderson films, easing casual comedy fans into a world where irony-drenched jokes about the C-word are not only okay, but also applauded. Demetri Martin & Special Guests was a natural extension of Martin’s distillation of alternative comedy, giving the nearly sold-out crowd a taste of the type of comedy that normally plays to rooms an eighth of the size of the Chicago Theatre.

Fully aware of his role as midpoint between The Improv and The Lakeshore Theater, Martin ambled onto the Chicago Theatre’s stage (which was inexplicably decked out with a handful of hundred-foot-tall faux-oriental rugs) and welcomed the audience with an eclectic blend of one-liners and crowd work. He greeted latecomers whose seats were, without fail, extremely close to the stage and, for a brief and ill-conceived segment, took questions from the audience. After a mostly successful introductory set, Martin introduced his first guest, former Chicagoan Kumail Nanjiani.

Nanjiani was clearly excited to be performing at the Chicago Theatre, and delivered a tight, well-crafted set, reflecting on the modern perception of Middle Eastern culture and his Muslim upbringing. His funniest bit was a recollection of a Pakistani birthday party that featured a grating reimagining of the “Happy Birthday” song and a mongoose fighting a snake (for entertainment).

After more rapid-fire aphorisms and audience interaction from Martin, Irish comic David O’Doherty took the stage. O’Doherty had previously supported Martin during Martin’s 2006 U.S. tour, but has since spent much of his time performing outside of North America. The self-proclaimed “king of the Casio keyboard,” David O’Doherty accompanied about half of his capricious performance with the shuffling preset beats of a toy keyboard. The crowd took a few minutes to warm to his skewed observational humor, but by the time his final song, “My Beefs 2011,” ended, O’Doherty had won over the entire room with his boyish charm and bone-dry wit.

It wouldn’t be a Demetri Martin show without a bit of minimalist prop comedy. Once O’Doherty wrapped, Martin presented a folder full of goofy “musicians wanted” and twisted “found cat” posters he hoped to hang in his local coffee shop before bringing out the evening’s other ex-Chicagoan. Hannibal Buress has spent the last year writing for 30 Rock, while still sharpening his comedic skills during his weekly show at Brooklyn’s Knitting Factory. Buress’ effortless magnetism and inherent comedic talent have taken him far; if there’s any justice in this world, he’ll be a household name within a few years.

Following Buress’ confidently aloof set, Martin introduced Kristen Schaal of Flight Of The Conchords and Bob’s Burgers fame. Schaal strutted onstage, bursting with manic energy augmented by an impossibly glittery jacket. After briefing the audience about her plans for the set, she broke into a series of bits with an absurdist twist on the “pretty girl going blue” style of comedy. Her take on The Vagina Monologues (“The Taint Monologues”) seemed clichéd at first, but things quickly took a turn for the strange, darker territory that Schaal had in mind.

Martin returned for one last run of jokes before inviting Paul F. Tompkins, his final guest, to the stage. Tompkins opted for a lapel mic rather than a handheld microphone for his performance, lending an air of sophistication to the proceedings. His quick wit combined with his growing fondness for long-form storytelling made for one of the best sets of the evening. Tompkins spent ample time riffing on distractions both onstage and from the audience, before recalling a story about his time spent working in a hat shop. While Martin and Tompkins have little in common in terms of material (PFT will occasionally indulge an absurd flight of fancy but is ultimately rooted in reality, while Martin’s surrealist wordplay means his material is often theoretical), their fully realized comedic personas complement each other remarkably well.

While the evening might have ended with an hour of unadulterated Martin like many audience members had hoped it would, things seemed to come to a natural conclusion after Tompkins’ set. The six comics onstage explored a breadth of approaches to the form, which is as much a credit to Martin’s skill as a curator as it is to the performers themselves. In a single two-hour show, Martin, along with the folks from Just For Laughs, successfully arranged a lineup that most venues would kill to spread out over a year.