Amber Lounge Comedy
1517 Franklin St.
Oakland
Weekly Thursdays at 7:30 p.m.
We’ve all been at a comedy show where a heckler or two drastically alters the mood of the room, does their (often intoxicated) best to derail the vibes and make things all about themselves. Because they are the star of the show, no? They paid for their seat, dammit!
Well, at the first installment of the now weekly Amber Lounge Comedy in Oakland’s downtown, entry was free.99, the seats were empty, the bar was on the floor. There seemed to be few rules — and plenty of room for one audience member to try to steal the show.
The show started nearly 30 minutes late, I’m guessing due to the literal three of us siting in wait at the advertised hour. I’d seated myself to the side of the room toward but not at the front, hoping for a clear angle to shoot from but to also avoid putting myself too close to the line of fire.
No dice. By the time host Carla Bijl, a self proclaimed “internationally unknown” French comedian, took the small stage, there were a whopping six of us seated, anxiously, and one guest loudly, anticipating some laughs. I sat back (and took some notes) while she warmed us and herself up.
On anti-aging: “My bedtime routine is so extensive that I start as soon as I wake up.” And mom life: “I’m so happy to be here. I have kids at home.”
And now, cue the heckler.
You might think that in such a small setting people would be too shamed to speak up, let alone repeatedly. But alas, or perhaps luckily, some feel emboldened.
This night’s was perseverant enough to earn her comments/deflections such as “This sounds like a one-on-one conversation. We’ll talk but not now,” from host Bijl; to more concern-driven takes by Joe Klocek (“I’m sure a sponsor is sitting by a phone somewhere”), who also crowned us “the little crowd that could.”
He, I suppose aptly, used his whole set as testing ground, notebook in hand.
“Remember how much fun we had with this?” he asked, covering the lower half of his face to obscure his scraggly gray beard. “Let’s go back to that time … thought that was gonna work better.” He trailed off, acknowledging both his wins and losses.
Klocek was followed by Mollica Sokhom and Kristee Ono, both of whose sets centered around mental health.
“How do we come back from that, true crime?” Ono asked after an unsuccessful bit. “I watch a lot of true crime… I carry a knife now. ‘Cuz I just want to know that if something goes down I’m gonna get stabbed with something clean . Okay, it doesn’t matter.”
Our delightful evening of bit over an hour of “laughs” was finally closed out by Bijl thanking us (for humbling her), requesting donations, and dismissing us. The show was simultaneously one of the most uncomfortable and most enjoyable situations I have been in in some time.
Being a member of such an intimate audience, particularly seated near the sole perpetrator of vibe-violence at an event, is bound to be an odd time. But for the low low price of free.99 (plus however many dollars you choose to donate), I will be returning to see just how silly this little crowd can get.
