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Chris Skelton / STUFF
According to Auckland Adolescents, Brendon Green looks like the brother who did not make the All Blacks team. It looks like he's lost his mother at the mall. He looks like a single person who claims to have a partner. He looks like a fancy garden gnome
Brendon Green, it is said, looks like a stable working man who commands whites, who has not participated in many parties, most of the time at Inside, slowly losing one's mental health.
It's a torrential Saturday in the late afternoon and Green, an award-winning comedian, warms the audience of the Q Theater in downtown Auckland. The 6 "4" West Aucklander with a ginger tinted beard and a New Balance sneaker addiction tells us that he had solicited insults as an exercise in the Comedians Class Comedians program of New Zealand which, for 17 years, has assigned professional kiwi comedians with high schools in Auckland and Wellington for young comedians in the making, and teach them the tricks of the trade, the audience today is filled with families, friends and members of the public
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Brendon Green, writer and award-winning comedian, was known r Auckland's comedy circuit for about 11 years. the Class Comedians program for the last two years.
This is Green's second year in Auckland's program. The 33-year-old worked for 11 years on the comedy circuit in New Zealand, Melbourne and Edinburgh, writing for TV series such as 7 Days and The Project, hosting corporate events, clowns and occasionally organizing quizzes. He jokes about the fact that he looks like Wolverine, if the superpower of X-Man was graphic.
I had heard that Green was probably the most handsome man in New Zealand comedy. I learn that he drives a Nissan Tiida and has a MacBook sporting a sticker that reads "Kindness Matters". At his own comedy festival show, he drinks a bottle of water rather than a glass of wine, and wears panty-liners under the armpits of his shirt. He tells us the first time that he was crying like an adult when he had to abandon his kitten at the SPCA home.
Teens of Milgram Green's modern-day experience did not know anything about it. Nevertheless …
"They've put me in tatters," he told the crowd.
"The only good thing is that the future of New Zealand comedy is in very good hands."
JASON DORDAY / STUFF
THE MOST DIFFICULT CROWD
A Monday afternoon two months earlier, I arrive at St Mary's & # 39; College, a Catholic high school for girls in the city center. suburbs. At lunch time, Mr. Green and his group of comedians will provide students with a non-provocative information booth, with the aim of attracting some of them to his studio after the event. # 39; school. From there, one, sometimes two, students will be selected to take a free 10-day intensive course during school holidays and weekends: naturally funny pubescent boys and girls gathered for an intensive professional comedy course.
The room is filled with girls in cobalt blazers fleeing the deluge on the outside. Green's voice emanates wings.
"Ladies, ladies and gentlemen, and we know that we are still at the end of our sentences!"
There is polite applause, and Green appears on stage, smiling on a field of ponytails. His task is daunting: to make a hundred of teens laugh.
Green opens his game by asking those gathered to "make noise" if they are, like him, a child of divorce.
He continues to disclose Fun and tortured details of a vaguely dysfunctional family before handing over the microphone to Inosi Colavanua, a 22-year-old Fijian kiwi who began to perfect his art three years ago after borrowing a book about stand-up comedy from the library.
"I would have liked that they would follow this program at my high school," he had said earlier.
"I would have liked to do it, it makes you come out of your shell …"
JASON DORDAY / STUFF
Colavanua completes her set, and it is the turn of Ruby Esther. She was part of the Class Comedian program two years ago and has continued to be professional since then.
Esther's blond curls, her blue eyes and her red sneakers evoke an unlikely heroine in a children's book. Hugging a ukulele in pale aquamarine tones, the 19-year-old girl does not feel much younger than she with the uncertainties and insecurities that come from being a legal adult without five-year plan or partner.
have a theory about why she does not have a boyfriend, she says. They suspect that she is a lesbian.
"I really had short hair once," she thought.
"And I've always been a tomboy, and I always made girls …"
What better way to explore the puzzle than through the music? Esther wonders aloud. There is a squeegee of the uke, and she begins to sing
My family thinks I am gay
They call me back every day [19659006] That, hey, it's good …
Dear mother, dear father
Despite what you think [19659006] I'm not a LGBTQ nor interrogator …
JASON DORDAY / STUFF
Esther, a student at the University of Auckland, lives with the aforementioned parents. Whatever misconceptions they may or may not have about his sexuality, they support his job.
"I think that they would like me to focus a little more on my work … But they just want me to have a plan that's going to keep me alive," she told me more Later, adding that after winning the RAW Comedy Quest last year, his mother and father attended each of his concerts for the next six months.
"Whenever my father Come, he would cry," she said, lost.
"I could see him from the balcony and he wiped his eyes …"
Esther finishes her set – " I'm right like a ruler, straight as a line, everything right like all the righteous things that rhyme … "- to enthusiastic applause. The song is a real worm of the ear. I'm going to buzz it for months to come.
"I thought it might be weird to have someone close to his age," he says afterwards, referring to Esther's performance.
"But it's a genius. It's perfect.
JASON DORDAY / STUFF
A LESSON IN LAUGH
The bell rings, signaling the end of another school day, and Green and I are waiting in the same room as d & # 39; Strange Comics Present
Three girls materialize. Green, perpetually imperturbable by all things, had said that from 1 to 30 students could attend.
He kicks the girls – two brunettes and a blonde with glasses – to name comedians whom they know and love.
"Basically, the thing about the stand-up is that you have to make people laugh," says Green. The way to do this is to surprise an audience. He says you can be honest, you can be political, you can be physical, you can be musical. You can tell stories. Or, if you are David Correos, you can stick a knife to your head and run through an audience claiming to be a unicorn.