Floor, Please

Elevator Repair Service’s Comedy Channel

by Alexandra Kuczynski

Journalists love diversity as a lynchpin to someone’s character. Think of how many times you’ve read an article about a rock star or novelist, only to find a sentence that says something smarmy and coy like “Monkees and Mozart CDs mingle on his shelf”? Elevator Repair Service, a theater ensemble that combines a slew of elements from the classical to the comic, from Buster Keaton and Richard Foreman to American trash culture and Ivy League comedy improv, could be described this way. If I weren’t a very original writer, that is.

Founded by a group of young actors, writers and comedians who met at Yale and NYU, Elevator Repair Service’s theater pieces combine elements of the absurd, the historical, the classically theatrical, the disposable. “Most of the stuff we’ve done recently has come from real events, places or people that we’ve researched,” notes John Collins, E.R.S.’s artistic director. “But that’s certainly not all we do or want to do.” Steve Bodow, another directorial type, adds that “Everything we do is comedy on some level.” James Hannaham, a critic for the Voice and the obvious comedian of the group, chimes in: “And that’s comedy with a small j.”

Since 1991, when the group coagulated into something that actually produced plays and got reviews, E.R.S. has presented a series of eclectic and original pieces. 1992’s production of Marx Brothers on Horseback Salad reinvented the meeting between the Marx Brothers and Salvador Dali. 1993-94’s Language Instruction: Love Family vs. Andy Kaufman was a mad montage of events real and imagined culled from the life of the late comedian. This December’s McGurk: A Cautionary Tale is no exception: “McGurk was a saloon keeper at the turn of the century — his saloon was called McGurk’s Suicide Hall,” says Bodow. “Seven people were said to have committed suicide at the bar.” The play combines elements of fact and fantasy — but absurd characters get starring roles. For example, inspired by Richard Foreman’s remark that a jar and a stick onstage could constitute theater, E.R.S. has launched the dramatic career of a wide-mouthed jar.

So where do these guys get their scripts? The very mention of the word draws sneers from this team of free-ranging thinkers. “We set ourselves up in situations where we can stumble onto things,” says Collins. Actor Bradley Glenn adds: “It could be a speech from a documentary combined with a language instruction video combined with a wrestling dance.”

In the end, we have a particular sort of taste and opinion about the way in which we want to be entertained. We want it to be strange and . . .” Collins pauses “. . . mysterious” “Yes,” says Bodow. “That’s a very important word.”