A.V. Club: Best of the Decade

The comedic persistence of stand-up Hannibal Buress

How one Chicago-raised comic is carving out his own niche

Hannibal Buress Mindy Tucker

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Only a few years ago, it would have been totally absurd to think Chicago stand-up Hannibal Buress would ever headline Zanies, especially for an entire week. At the time, the aspiring comic was living at home on Chicago's West Side, performing his odd, patient comedy at as many open mics as humanly possible. (One joke started with, "I'd like to kick a pigeon," and got stranger from there.) But things picked up in 2006: He secured a coveted spot at Montreal's Just For Laughs festival, and scored a gig on Holland's Comedy Factory TV show; the next year had him appearing on The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson. Then, as is so often (and sadly) the case, Buress moved to New York. But the rest of the country has also picked up on the 26-year-old stand-up, despite a style that may seem off-putting. To help you bridge that gap, Decider considers his possible pitfalls and how they're actually assets.

Possible pitfall #1: His slow delivery
Though Buress has noticeably picked up the pace between and within bits, his delivery for each line is certainly more deliberate than most frenetic comics. It can be odd at first, especially when it becomes hard to discern what he's talking about. But just wait. In one bit, he goes on and on about the "fire SUV," the vehicle that follows fire trucks around and seems to serve no purpose at all. But he continues to talk, working out its function in his mind—to arrive on the site and say to the truck, "See that fire? What you wanna do is put water … on the fire … until there's no more fire … then you wanna do it again on that fire…" And rather than leave it at that, he lets the joke's monotone, paced repetition become somewhat of the joke's mantra, forever cementing it in audiences' minds.



Possible pitfall #2: Non sequiturs, tangents, and asides? What was he talking about?
An ambitious bit begins when Buress describes a run-in with a bunch of kids selling candy bars to support their basketball team. He imitates the kids pleading, "We've had so many trials … and tribulations…" But this sparks him to ask, "Can you have tribulations without any trials?" It goes on for some time, and leads into a debate with himself over how the notion of raping and pillaging got started. Actually, it's a while before he gets back to those kids, but due in large part to his slow delivery (see numero uno), the audience is led step-by-step through his mental process to the point where, yes, they start to understand the breadcrumbs of ideas that lead him down different joke trails.



Possible pitfall #3: Some of his stuff is really weird
Relatability has been key in stand-up comedy for a while—just think about all those comics who made it big in the '90s, with lines like, "What's the deal with this one thing? You know what I'm talking a-bout!" But the so-called newfangled "alternative" comedy stems from personal experience, whether it's relatable or not, and Buress is no exception. His speech about extolling the virtues of using leftover pickle juice to flick on sandwiches for flavor? That's not relatable in the slightest. But Buress is so committed to the joke; he makes the flicking motion a half dozen times, and hashes out, in utter frustration, the argument he had with his roommate when some pickle juice went missing. Even though he's not describing a universal experience, it's easy to buy what he's selling—a welcome departure from the norm.

Bonus: Here's the trailer for an upcoming stand-up special he's involved with, The Awkward Kings Of Comedy.

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