Interview with Dane Cook
If you’ve ever seen Dane Cook in full flight as a stand up comedian – perhaps on YouTube, his website, or on television - you’ll be surprised to know that he’s more than a tad reserved. “As a kid I would have loved to have been just shy”, says Cook. “I was way beyond that. For me it was panic attacks and dry heaving when walking to school. It was pretty terrible for a while there. And I still feel at my calmest, most centered, and most comfortable when I am with my family and the same friends I have had for twenty years. I’m pretty low-key when I’m not living the life of a performer.”
Low-key isn’t the way you’d describe the typical Dane Cook performance. He’s one of America’s most recognised comedians, with four best selling comedy albums, endless television performances and appearances in fifteen feature films, including Dan in Real Life and the newly released My Best Friend’s Girl in which he plays the lead. Much of Cook’s work falls into the category of the observational rant. Pick some aspect or event from everyday life - the more banal, the more everyday, the better - and rip into it. The comedy comes from forcefully prising the unexpected thought from the things we see or do all the time. “I’m standing next to this guy who I’ve never met before,” starts a typical Cook sketch from his Viscous Circle tour, “and he turns towards me and he sneezes like this…” The routine builds from there, giving Cook the opportunity to use his powerful physicality and his insight into human behaviour, much of which he attributes to his shyness as a child.
“I was like a sponge, “ says Cook. “I spent so much of my early years just watching – wanting to communicate, wanting to be funny, wanting to feel like I had something important to say. I think all those moments and memories built up, and when I first started doing skits and improvisations, my drama teacher would point out that I could mimic anybody and do everyone’s moves.”
Cook grew up one of seven children in Boston, and his father – who been a sports broadcaster amongst other things – gave the desperately shy young Dane a cassette recorder and microphone, and sent him out to interview the neighbours. “He saw me struggling with my insecurities,” reflects Cook, “and saw me having such a difficult time communicating with people, that he was gently trying any means possible to get me to look people in the eye and start talking.” The incident clearly still holds significance for Cook, now in his mid thirties. “When I came back and listened to the tape, what I realised was not so much that I had asked questions but that I had captured reactions. It was glamorous to me, even at that young age, and it propelled me.”
Cook started working in comedy in the early 1990’s as soon as he finished school, entering a notoriously difficult industry when it was going through difficult times. After a boom in comedy clubs in the 1980’s and the rise of big names like Robin Williams, Jerry Seinfeld and Billie Crystal, the nineties saw a glut of performers and venues. Despite the environment, Cook enjoyed himself, thanks to the great camaraderie he’d found in the Boston comedy scene. He played mostly to college crowds with a three-man improvisation troupe, but tested the waters with stand-up. “Very early on my solo stand up act was very physical, really broad, and there wasn’t much written – it was more about antics and outrageousness, which was fine because being a young guy it was easy to go to a college show and appeal to that vibe. But as I started cultivating a routine and figuring out what I could get away with, and what tools I had to sharpen, I started to understand that comedy is about connecting with people.”
Cook is also clearly a fan - and student - of comedy itself, rattling off the names and styles of just about every American comedian of the last 40 years as we talk. His ability to watch and understand these great performers helped him find the key to his own comedy. “I listened to all the Bob Newhart albums growing up, and all the Bill Cosby albums. I watched everybody from Redd Foxx to Johnny Carson, and one thing that I noticed mirrored in everybody who had success was that they came from the truth, and that they spoke the truth in their comedy no matter where their beginnings were. It’s a difficult road to do this, but it’s important because when people look in your eyes or hear your thoughts and ideas something must resonate with them.”
Cook also realised that he didn’t want to limit himself to becoming a character comedian – he just wanted to be himself. “Redd Foxx once said if you can figure out what makes you likeable, everything is funny,” says Cook. “My goal became how to be a storyteller one night and tell long form, then tell joke jokes the next, then be corny or vulgar, squeaky clean and whimsical and then irreverent. I really wanted to be able to use all different styles of comedy so I could get some of these funny and fantastical ideas off my mind.”
Being truthful for Cook also means being live and unscripted. “If you’re a fan of mine you’re a fan of my risks - I take a lot of them. And it all comes back to one thing: I just want to make you laugh. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ll do anything and everything for that. I’ll go from whatever serious is happening in the country to a fart joke – I don’t care. I want you to leave my show feeling lighter, more optimistic and hopeful rather than feeling like being banged over the head.”
Clearly Cook has found that the freshness of this approach benefits himself and his audience. “When you go to see a band, you want to feel like the show is for you – that’s how I treat my comedy. I’m the opposite of a Jerry Seinfeld or a George Carlin who are wordsmiths and know exactly what they’re going to say. I like to be on the cusp of fear. I was afraid for most of my young adult life. Then I had my metamorphosis and came out of it But what I finally realise after not being afraid anymore is – you know what…” Cook pauses not for effect but because it seems like he has just realised something himself… “I miss being afraid. That’s because when you’re on the cusp of fear, as my dad once said, that’s where the good stuff is.”





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