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Beaten to the Punch Line
Ninety men made the list, compared with just 10 women.
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  Maria Bamford, above, a California-based comedian, says the unspoken rule of having no more than one female comic on a bill is "a prejudicial hiring practice." Comics such as Lisa Lampanelli, left, and Sarah Silverman, right, have taken a more male-oriented approach to their acts. (By Marsaili Mcgrath -- Getty Images) |
Aren't women just as funny as men?
Well, apparently it's not that simple.
"My gut tells me that society doesn't like to see a woman in power, and standing on a stage [telling jokes] is a powerful position," says Eddie Brill, a veteran stand-up comic who scouts and books comedians for David Letterman's show. "Some of the best comedians on the planet are female. But a lot of men are afraid to laugh at a woman. It sometimes can turn insecure men into even more insecure people."
Legendary comic Joan Rivers has a theory about why women haven't succeeded as often as men as stand-up comedians: "Most girls, when they're young, realize that they don't get attention for being funny," says Rivers, 73, whose stand-up career goes back to the borscht belt and "Ed Sullivan Show." Girls "want to be pretty or sexy. Funny isn't sexy. Comedy isn't sexy."
Stand-up comedy, she adds, is "a very masculine form. You're taking an audience and dominating them. You're like a ringmaster in a lion's den. You have to be very strong."
In addition to the hardships of the circuit, the pay is attractive only for headliners with TV credits (depending on the city and the club, a top comic might earn $2,500 for a Tuesday-Sunday run; opening acts typically earn just a few hundred dollars per week). The accommodations are hardly glamorous, either. Traveling comics usually stay in "comedy condos," the shabby apartments provided by club owners.
It's difficult under such circumstances to maintain a marriage; raising children is more complicated still. Bamford, who is single, decided to take a year off from traveling this year to rest, and, she says, to "develop some kind of family, whatever that means. . . . It was starting to be so depressing to be by myself for such long stretches."
Lisa Lampanelli can relate. Ask her how many times she's performed her act during the past 16 years and she starts to calculate. "Sometimes I did six shows a night, sometimes three or two," she says. "Figure an average of two shows per night for the last 16 years. How many is that?"
Well, a lot.
"There's no substitute for stage time," she continues. "But I need rest. I need to stay home. I need to get my mind off this [expletive] grind, you know?"
