I don’t want you to like me for my morality: comic Gianmarco Soresi

New York comedian Gianmarco Soresi was recently at the market when he was approached by a stranger. She was a fan, she said, celebrating her 60th birthday. “Thank you for not doing Riyadh,” she added.

She was referring to the Riyadh Comedy Festival, the controversial two-week event sponsored by the Saudi Arabian government where some of the world’s biggest stand-ups gathered to make jokes about how you can’t say anything any more. The line-up included the likes of Louis C.K. and Dave Chappelle, and if you thought they’d been cancelled you’re not among the stadiums-full of followers to which such supposed casualties of wokeness still play.

It’s true that Soresi’s stand-up does lean a little towards the progressive side but he was quick to point out to his admirer that he’s no political propagandist.

“I’m like, first of all, I wasn’t invited to Riyadh. And second, I don’t want you to like me for my morality because I might disappoint you, and ultimately that’s not what I’m trying to sell. I want you to be able to laugh at a joke where I’m a bad person, even if it’s just theoretical for the joke.”

Easier said than done. During the past decade or so, the comedy world has been saddled with the same political baggage as every other corner of social life – choose a side, plant your flag, toe the party line. Where once a comedian’s job was to make fun of everything, now they’re expected to be mouthpieces for the stark political rivalries that social media has fomented.

“A comedian’s job is to address the thing that’s weird or silly or unusual or needs to be talked about. So, unfortunately, it feels like the worse things get, the more it’s hard to not address it … I don’t think you have to, in theory. But it can be tough to laugh about owning a dog when there’s a fire around you. You want to talk about the fire,” says Soresi.

Amid the conflagration that is American public life, though, Soresi has somehow managed to craft a comedy persona that doesn’t conform. In fact, he’s the kind of comic that New York culture website Vulture describes as “undeniably universal”, a descriptor that surely hasn’t been applied to much else this century.

Soresi has always tried not to preach to the choir: “If I critique everything all around me, inevitably, if you are someone who needs to be agreed with sometimes, you’ll find some stuff that we are on the same page about. And that might give me enough goodwill to talk shit about the thing you find sacred.”

Gianmarco Soresi studied musical theatre at college and can sing, act “and be annoying”.Credit: Todd Rosenberg Photography

The line between skewering the sacred and being plain mean is wobbly. Soresi’s act can go to very dark places but his audience knows they’re in safe hands. “I find that when I go to a traditionally conservative city, the audience will be more queer and there’s more hair dye and septum piercings, and a furry now and then, because they know here’s a safe place for them to enjoy comedy, and enjoy f---ed-up comedy, in a way.”

For a long time, he says, “edgy” comedy just meant jokes that were a little bit racist, a little bit homophobic, a little bit yuck. “What I hope to do is fulfil the need for a dark sense of humour but knowing that, while I may talk about trans-ness, it’s not going to be making fun of trans people. If I talk about race, it’s not going to be insulting different races. I’m the butt of the joke while talking about these sensitive things.”

If Soresi’s stand-up can cross political lines, it’s because he vaults those borders with an energy traditionally confined to musical theatre. That’s exactly where he started out. In his recent comedy special he explains that he’s what’s known in the theatre as a triple threat. He can act. He can sing. And, he brags, “I’m annoying.”

He weaponises the enthusiasm of the theatre kid to get away with material that might otherwise have him in trouble. “I think sometimes energy and enthusiasm is intertwined with positivity. I hope to break that and show that you can do jazz hands while telling people the state with the highest suicide rate.”

Soresi’s combination of dark material and high theatrics taps the same vein as Tim Minchin and Eddie Perfect, two Melburnians who adapted their own music theatre training to reshape the world of comedy. “I really don’t know what would’ve happened if I had stayed in musical theatre full-time because it can be excessively cheery or positive and I have my own battles with depression, and I am cynical. But because I grew up on musical theatre I can submit to the corniness of it while deep down having those darker thoughts,” says Soresi.

Where stand-ups traditionally shuffle around the stage, Soresi looks ready to pop a cartwheel at any given moment. “I think I always wanted to be a dancer, too. I just sucked. I could act somewhat, I could sing somewhat, but I certainly sucked at dancing. I always just loved being physical.”

When you’re starting out as a comic, however, you’re performing on stages the size of a postcard. It was only when Soresi made it to Canada’s Just For Laughs festival that his dreams were realised.

“You do these big showcases where suddenly you’re at a theatre. I saw that surface area and was like, ‘oh, I can own this stage’. What’s the point of comedians moving to bigger stages and then not moving? That’s such a waste. And so it was one of the best sets I had in my life, and I think it’s because I was finally free.”

Freedom is a relative thing in comedy today. Like most comics of his generation, it’s not enough just to get up there and make funny. Soresi also has a podcast, newsletter, YouTube comedy special and merchandise. He regularly appears on other comics’ channels and hosts them on his own.

“It’s nuts. I can see why comedians usually get worse the more successful they get. You don’t have time to reflect, test, fine-tune. I’m a workaholic by nature but it is really, really tough. And while I have more autonomy than comedians did back in the day, who had to just pray to god Johnny Carson’s booker liked them, the consequence is that I run a f---ing TV network.”

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It takes a squad to run a one-man show. “I have a manager, I have an agent, social media person, a social media company, an assistant, podcast producer. But still it’s all me, so I feel very protective.”

One of the biggest feats Soresi (among others) pulled off last year was releasing his own comedy special, Thief of Joy. But where that goal until recently required the blessing of one of the big streaming companies to achieve, Soresi produced his special himself, distributing it free on YouTube.

“Ultimately, I make my money in ticket sales. I perform a lot. And almost nowhere, unless you are truly a big name, are you going to make money off the special. YouTube lets me spread my wings. I travel internationally. If America ever gets worse, I do want to be an international presence. I do want to have options.”

Gianmarco Soresi performs at The Capitol on January 24 and Melbourne Recital Centre on January 25.