It almost sounds like the set-up for a joke. Standups have directors now? What next, busker conductors?
And yet the concept is becoming increasingly common. Comedians hire other comedians to help shape their shows, and their input – and impact – varies wildly. Different directors have different strengths.
“One of the reasons I was up for this interview is because I think there is a misconception,” says Jessica Fostekew, the fine stand-up who also boasts an impressive directorial CV – but usually keeps it quiet.
Fostekew is currently working on Sapphire McIntosh’s Edinburgh debut, Squeaky Bum Time, a story of football, family strife and houselessness. It’s a very personal tale, so chemistry was key.
“Our first meeting was probably quite overwhelming,” admits McIntosh, as they reminisce over Zoom. “It wasn’t a done deal, was it?”
Fostekew agrees, having reduced her directing recently. Unlike their famous movie counterparts, stand-up directors often cover multiple shows; one year she did around ten, which “freaked me out a bit. After that, I’ve eased down, and I’ll work with generally one really brilliant, interesting person.”
McIntosh had already enjoyed success with improv and acting – including Ted Lasso’s new season – and now needed to make her standup debut more “Edinburgh-friendly.” Cue: Fostekew, recommended by fellow comic Sophie Duker, and renowned for tone and timing. Although her major goal here was keeping McIntosh’s distinctive comic voice intact, within the deeper framework. Sapphire recalls one particular routine she would otherwise have “glossed over”, which Fostekew prioritised.
“You don’t realise people are engaging with the story,” says the comic. “She went ‘build it up! Build it up!’ ‘Okay, okay!” And it worked. People want to feel something.”
So, too, the creative team. “We’ve cried together,” McIntosh smiles. “It’s been a journey.”
You only get one debut show, so eking out every possible advantage is understandable. The UK-born, Montana-based storyteller Jennifer Jane required an Edinburgh Fringe expert, having rarely performed in the UK. She spotted Stuart Laws’ name on several stand-up specials, then an article which “talked about Stuart being particularly good at structure,” says Jane, over Zoom from the States. “And I really wanted to get better at that.”
Laws, who also runs the busy Turtle Canyon Comedy production company, initially fell into live directing via an urge to tweak other comics’ shows. “I had this little nagging thing,” he recalls. “I can see something that I love so much, and it could be even better.”
Jane’s debut, Happy Tea, is a fuller collaboration between director and comic. They liaised intensely but remotely, bar a brief meeting in Montana. Then the show was reshaped after a revealing preview Laws recommended, at the Fringe-like Machynlleth Comedy Festival, in Wales.
“It was educational,” says Jane, slightly ruefully. “American audiences are more forgiving.” Laws had suggested adding a new – more personal and welcoming – intro, but “I initially didn’t, then went to Machynlleth. You could just feel it’s more of a cold room than an American room.”
Structuring a show is tricky enough that, once a running order makes sense, even seasoned acts will stick with it. Stuart’s law? Previews are for learning. “I tell people: ‘It’s time to break the show,’” he says. “My stuff, I’ll do the ending at the beginning, or randomly change the order just before you go on, so that you’re caught off guard.”
Jane happily lauds Laws’ influence: venue advice, tags on gags, a structure tailored for that time slot (7.15pm); “every aspect of it.” But it’s still the comics who pay, and have final say. As Fostekew explains, “I’ve got a rule of three. If I’ve said, ‘what about this?’ three times, and she’s ignored it, I’ll just shut up about that.”
Another international pairing, Josh Glanc and Adi Parmar are very different acts, which helped elevate the latter’s debut show, Sunny Boy. They met when Dutch standup Parmar attended Glanc’s clown workshop in Berlin, then his Soho Theatre Comedy Lab, and admired the tutor’s intuition.
“Josh always has incredible insights into the audience’s underlying emotional response,” says Parmar, over email from Amsterdam. “He would often tell us that the audience didn’t trust us yet, or that they didn’t feel safe or comfortable during certain bits.”
That empathy grew during years of gloriously interactive shows; directing is viewing stuff from another angle, Glanc suggests. “A lot comes down to experience. After a while, you’ve made several shows and you’ve worked with various people, you begin to see things.”
This show’s intro was rebuilt too, in the opposite direction. Here the director diagnosed “too much info for the audience to digest,” says Parmar, who agreed. “I can already feel the difference. The audience seems to relax with me much sooner.”
That word, ‘director,’ can feel misleading. Glanc seems more like a counsellor, mediating between act and audience. He still uses a director too, clown contemporary John-Luke Roberts, who’ll dissect his live shows. “Even though I have those skills as a director, when I’m the one performing I can’t do it for myself.”
Involvement levels vary heavily, onstage and off. Laws went full personal trainer one year, decrying his act’s lifestyle “‘because you are ruining yourself,’” whereas Fostekew knows directors who barely did anything, just encouragement, essentially. Although having also seen shows where comics ended up almost mimicking their mentor’s style, Jess prefers “imperceptible” directors.
“It shouldn’t have your voice on it all,” she insists. “We should never know you were there, like an amazing waiter in a posh restaurant.”
McIntosh offers her own analogy, for that dynamic.
“You know what it’s like? It’s like going to climb a mountain for the first time, and you know that you can physically do it, but this other person’s climbed it eight times before, so you’re like, ‘for my first trip, will you climb that mountain with me, just to show me the nooks and crannies?’ That’s what it is.”
Comedy sherpas, then. Onwards and upwards.
Sapphire McIntosh – Squeaky Bum Time, Underbelly Bristo Square, 5-30 Aug (not 18), 5.45pm
Jennifer Jane: Happy Tea, Just the Tonic at the Mash House, 6-30 Aug (not 18), 7.15pm
Adi Parmar: Sunny Boy, Gilded Balloon Teviot, 5-31 Aug (not 18), 7pm