Arts & Events

Co-directors Robert Campos and Donna LoCicero have delivered an outstanding documentary about the boom times of the Bay Area comedy scene in the 1980s—a 90-minute romp filled with bouts of laughter, a pinch of pathos and insights into the craft of the stand-up comic. 3 Still Standing is a multi-level saga that spins a tale of great expectations dashed by a changing economy and talented spirits challenged but undaunted by fickle fortune. 

In addition to the three comics who anchor this tale—Will Durst, Johnny Steele and Larry Bubbles Brown—the film uncorks some vintage footage of more than a dozen beloved comedians from the Golden Age of stand-up. There are interviews with Dana Carvey, Paula Poundstone, Rob Schneider, Bobby Slayton and the late, lamented Robin Williams. 

As a bonus, 3 Still Standing is a beautifully filmed visual treat, garnished with crisp, richly colored scenes of San Francisco and extraordinary time-lapse captures of the Bay Area morphing into sundown and glowing at night. 

This multi-level saga spins a tale of great expectations dashed by a changing economy and talented spirits challenged but undaunted by fickle fortune. 

The film is dedicated "To Robin" and, in a final bittersweet cameo, a white-whiskered Robin Williams appears, sitting patiently for his interview, looking pleased and relaxed, crinkly-eyed and smiling like a kindly Santa Claus. (In a subsequent interview, Rob Schneider affectionately calls Williams a "performance whore," willing to perform anywhere on a whim and always guaranteed to bring out massive crowds.) 

At the peak of the 1980s comedy renaissance, there were five working clubs in San Francisco. The Holy City Zoo, the Punchline, the Other Cafe, Cobb's Comedy Club and the Improv were merry-making magnets, attracting aspiring young comics from across the country. Drawing on remarkable archival footage, Campos captures the heyday of Bay Area bellylaughs, a magical time when the best and brightest of America's young comics strutted and fretted across the city's stages. The excitement is palpable on both sides of the microphone with the audience gathered like a pile of dry kindling and the comic scraping together both wit and performance skills to provide the spark. There is excitement and energy to burn. 

Will Durst remembers his first week in San Francisco. He did eight shows. So what if there was no pay, Durst recalls, after all, "there was stage time." It was in SF that Durst learn the comedy ropes. In those days, Durst recalls, there were five levels of comedy: the Open Mike-ers, the Emcees, the Middle Acts, the Headliners and "people who left for Los Angeles." At the peak of the comedy renaissance there were five working clubs in San Francisco. The Holy City Zoo, the Punchline, the Other Cafe, Cobb's Comedy Club and the Improv. 

Will and Debbie Durst provide a touching stand-up courtship story—one that includes a "meet-cute" encounter over a platter of half-smoked, slobber-soaked cigarettes. 

Johnny Steele recounts his thwarted search for fame and fortune in Los Angeles, a city that is more interested in bankable commodities than developing artists. 

Larry "Bubbles" Brown, a comic of depression and mordant commentary, reveals his professional challenge: "To find new ways to show how I'm a loser." 

Just as there's a divide between SF and LA, there is a cultural divide between SF and Las Vegas. Local comics lament the appearance of clueless "road hacks," visiting comics who drift into town relying on sexist and misogynistic content. They wind up wondering why San Francisco audiences aren't laughing like the crowds in Vegas. Well, it's easy to get laughs if your jokes are all about bodily fluids, Durst cracks. So if you're going to San Francisco, forget the superficial casino jokes. Sophisticated SF humor stands on the high end of the comedy spectrum. 

San Francisco, we are told, is the only city where comedy "is treated as an art form." As one of the principals fondly remembers: "We were little rock stars in this town." 

Sadly, the comedy boom was fated to burst—a "comedic recession," as Williams puts it. As the economic stumbled and cable TV fare began to suck away the crowds, comics were forced to seek out one-night gigs in far-off burbs like Turlock, Modesto, Grass Valley, and Redding. 

In a final desperate act, Durst and a bunch of fellow comics bought the failing Holy City Zoo. Durst called it "our inner sanctum for doing the craft" and comedians from all over soon called the Zoo home. 

But journeyman/woman comics don't make the big bucks and the worker-owned club was fated to close. The Zoo turned off the lights in August 1993 following a marathon set of performances with Durst performing the final set. 

As Debbie Durst recalls, "If you could pay with your heart, we would be open still." 

For SF comic Michael Pritchard it was "like watching the doors close on your favorite chapel." 

Durst put it simply. "We've been downsized." 

Today, the clubs that still operate are the ones owned by corporations. Comics in Vegas nightclubs thrive while Bay Area talent struggles to survive. The corporate clubs are booking "name" comics from TV sit-coms—the "one percent" of the comedy world. Johnny Steele recalls one recent show where he did 30 minutes and made a couple of hundred dollars as a warm-up act for a celebrity headliner. The TV-blessed comic did a 40-45 minute act and walked off with a $25,000. 

"Comics are a lot like blues musicians," Durst reflects, "We get better as we get older." But life is not getting any easier for these talented craftsmen. They have spent their lives honing performing skills that are as rare and accomplished as a diva delivering an aria or a master violinist performing a Paganini concerto. But there is no pension plan for aging comics and no one is getting an endowment. 

We see Durst in his office, coming up with new jokes and struggling to cobble together some paid gigs—in addition to his ongoing work as a columnist, a voice-over artist, a radio commentator and an author. 

Finally, we see Durst doing a show at The Marsh. "In San Francisco," Durst notes with satisfaction, "people in the audience still know how to read or [pause for a beat] … know somebody who does." Durst is magnificent on stage. His observations are unique and cutting, his vocal acrobatics are hilarious, his physical routines are inspired, wacky and polished. 

Finally, we see Steele, experimenting with the power of social media and staging a successful "pop-up show" at Berkeley's Media Center on Alston Way. 

And finally, we join Brown as he goes on the road with fellow comic Dana Carvey who (even with all his fame and success) must also resort to sharing a ride with other comics to score one-night gigs on stages in Modesto, Redding, and Grass Valley. 

After watching 3 Still Standing, you'll want to lift these guys up off their feet and parade them around on your shoulders. This film, and the comics profiled in it, all deserve a well-deserved standing ovation.