There comes a time when artists must prove they are still relevant or move on. It always works out the same with painters, musicians and writers. Artists who don’t keep proving their worth to the public end up becoming pale imitations of themselves, objects for ridicule rather than praise.
It works the same way for stand-up comedy, yet few would consider this a serious art form. It’s easy to see why. Turn on Comedy Central any day of the week and you will see a multitude of stand-up comedians who adapt ready-made stage personae and belt out formulaic material as if any deviation from the expected would be tantamount to slitting their own wrists.
George Carlin has always been different. Seeing him live at the Hult Center on Saturday would have been a revelation to anyone exposed to the safe, harmless sitcom-brand of American stand-up during the past decade. From note one, he unleashes a barrage of observations, attacks, insults and complaints.
The audience barely has time to get its footing before Carlin switches them around in another direction. The topics read like a grocery list of American taboos: disease, enemas, car crashes, airplane wrecks, necrophilia, gun violence and suicide were all covered in detail.
Being offensive is one of the cornerstones (some would say clichés) of modern American comedy. Carlin, most famous for “The Seven Dirty Words You Can’t Say on Television,” is one of the pioneers of this style. However, being offensive just for the sake of offending is rarely funny, something Carlin always seems to keep in mind. His act, even at its most vile, always questions the attitudes and assumptions of his audience.
Revisiting Carlin’s earlier work can be startling without the intervening 30 years as a guide. His style, which began as laid back, easy going and fairly low key, has now evolved into that of a grizzled nihilist. His persona is one of a bitter, angry man who has figured out just how much he can get away with. Quoting him is often futile, given that his act is rooted in his impeccable delivery.
One thing that is missing from Carlin’s targets is politics. He makes few, if any, jokes about current political situations, sticking to everyday life and observations about people around him. The political material appears in the most unexpected place — during a rant on bumper stickers — particularly of the “My Child is an Honor Student …” style. “How about one that says, ‘My Child Has Enough Self-Confidence So That I Don’t Have to Praise Their Minor Scholastic Achievements on the Back of My Car?’” Carlin asked.
Carlin’s diatribes can often be hard to swallow, and his world outlook is a bleak one. He wouldn’t seem to mind watching the world go up in flames. But listening to him describe it can be immensely entertaining, not to mention damn funny.