The charm of Crowd Work points out deeper issues in comedy

Robert Scucci | publishing
Stand-up comedy has a crowd work problem and I can’t see it will release soon. Crowd work was once one of many tools in the industry, but gradually became a major attraction.
In essence, standing has always been a storytelling: comedians live their own lives, observations and reports. Hopefully they won’t bombard the process. If you do this, skilled comedians can pull the crowd’s work bed out of the back pocket and try to save their scene. That’s what makes it a tool. Storytelling is the reason for standing up, and the work of the crowd should help support this rather than replace it.
Telling stories is the reason to stand

The harsh reality of every comedian’s face is his disciple. Patton Oswalt’s 2007 album Werewolf and lollipop There is a perfect example. He was in an irresponsible one-night stand, which led to emergency birth control pills for Costco travel. Halfway through, Oswalt becomes quiet and vulnerable, just to break the tension by a noisy audience.
Transferring the gears to fix this, he compared the inclination in the scene to the song building of Pixies, shutting up the heckler with some sharp words and then sending a death blow: “You’ll miss everything is cool to die.” He killed it, because the work of the crowd was seamless, so it felt like part of the story, not a detour.
Short form media emphasizes crowd work

In the age of social media, the work of crowds has become a noble job because the algorithm likes bite-sized clips. 30 to 60 seconds you need to get attention, comedians like Matt Rife build a huge following in their shorts. It makes perfect sense: a five-minute story won’t get people’s interest, but the work of the crowd is an easy way to quickly show your wit.
Log in to Tiktok and you will see it anywhere. Some of the prevailing pieces are fun, and you can’t blame him for giving the audience what they pay for. The problem is that through Tiktok, the people who find him expect a group of people to work. This expectation prompts other comedians to follow the same formula, shooting for an hour of content to get the virus clip.
It works, but also creates a cycle: The audience wants more crowds to work, because this is first and foremost the followers of the comedian.
No more workshop space

The bigger question is how this shift affects storytelling. With everyone holding the camera, it is possible for comedians to record and upload unfinished jokes before they are ready. Seminar materials should be a fragile process, but if the leak is semi-formed on the Internet, judge it before it is completed. Why do comedians risk being able to upload improvisation in the room?
Crowd work is safe. This is one and done, making it easier to stir the edit into a cut, and is emotionally connected to the personal story. But if viewers buy tickets that they expect to see more of the same tickets, they will be disappointed when the show is built around actual storytelling.
The crowd work in comedy is more popular than ever, and eventually the hype will disappear and the balance will return. Until then, I didn’t know how many more clips I could endure on the stage and say, “Beautiful shirt. Where do you get it, shirt shop?”