Scott Capurro

COMEDY

“Scott Capurro’s Dirty Gift”

Scott Capurro, a gay comedian from Daly City, probably gets his inspiration elsewhere. He is a world traveler and somehow manages to make trite subjects like mothers, hotel rooms, gangs, and being heckled seem freshly funny. When Christmas — the least funny day of the year — is two days gone, you can finally say the f-word again without checking behind you for your precociously sailor-mouthed young cousin or your selectively keen-eared great-aunt. And Capurro, a master of deadpan comedy and a professional in the fields of gut-busting hilarity and subtle wit, will let the vulgarities fly. He’ll make you feel like yourself again — your fucked-up, cynical, hedonistic, perfectly well-balanced self. (Amy Glasenapp)

And I say, hurrah!!! (that part is actually me, saying that, to myself. and to you.)

Oh, and this is lifted from Chortle.co.uk, a UK comedy website that’s favored within this biz we call show. And after some producers read this, it will be more clear why I never get work in Disney films. Enjoy. xxx

Scott Capurro is brutally uncompromising in his attitude, defiantly challenging audiences to accept him for what he is, however unpalatable that may be.

Because what he is happens to be is an intolerant, self-centred, snidey, sarcastic, arrogant venomous man, who cannot disguise his contempt for humanity. He doesn’t like the world, and makes no concession to make the world like him. He speaks as his embittered mind finds, no matter what the consequences.

Yet while these may not be admirable qualities in real life, they certainly work in his favour as a comic. He is attitude personified, spitting out the unsayable, with the almost inevitable howls of protest bouncing off his bulletproof exterior.

Be in no doubt this rancorous gay San Franciscan is a shock comic, revelling in the reaction his barbed comments receive. Nothing is off-limits, be it bad-taste asides about Madeleine McCann, crude sexual references, or the ultimate taboo: seemingly racist gags. He wants to prick at the predominantly middle-class, liberal sensibilities of comedy club audiences, and will be as confrontational as it takes to do it.

With any act that trades on offensive material, there needs to be a trust between comic and audience about the true intentions of the material, but Capurro blurs that line. There’s no obvious ironic wink, just an unrelenting tsunami of insensitive, acrimonious, unpleasantness.

Many audiences don’t take to this at all, and his unyielding stance can drive a gig into the ground, given how difficult he can be to watch, even if you do see where he’s coming from. On the other hand, if you are seeking comedy with genuine edge, he’ll give it – as long as you are prepared to accept the consequences of being bombarded with gags you probably didn’t really want to hear.

Sometimes Capurro’s desire to shock overwhelms the comedy, leaving just vicious spite and no punchlines. But when he hits is stride, with a tirade of brutally savage jokes delivered with razor-sharp timing, the effect is guiltily enjoyable. You’ll go to hell for this, but at least you’ll go down laughing.

Date of review: Dec 2007

This appeared in the Glasgow Herald last weekend…

Among the big-name comics playing Scotland this weekend, Scott Capurro is cruder than Frank Skinner, bitchier than the Grumpy Old Women, less discreet than Alan Carr, skinnier even than Mark Watson and has corresponded with more convicted killers than Ardal O’Hanlon. Seemingly driven by spite, bitterness and Viagra, the provocative San Franciscan is currently upsetting liberal sensibilities with his acidic opinions on the Maddie media coverage. A perennial Glasgay! turn, Capurro has appeared in Star Wars, graphically champions dwarf copulation and has just been handed a Royal sex blackmail scandal. What more could you want? He plays the Edinburgh Stand on Tuesday.

And then, this appeared in The List…

Scott brings his ‘Premature Gift’ show over to The Burgh after treating Glasgay! to his sense of humour. Not for the easily offended. Or quite hard to offend. Everyone else will adore the little bitch.

I know they’re both short paragraphs, but I liked them and thought they were worth putting on the site. This isn’t part of the mentions. This is me, writing about the brevity of them. I’m kind of bored and very tired, I was up rolling around on the floor of a gay sauna. Pot and viagra make me needy. And funnier, apparently. Or bitter. Or something.
Back to London tomorrow. Thank God. Although in this cold, coffee is better. Especially if the beans are seriously burned. xx

So a couple of weeks ago I’m doing my schtick, and some dickhead stands up and demands I stop, etc. In Bath of all places. Usually they’re very well-behaved there, it’s posh, and they’re white and worried. But I think I was rattling on and on about the Muslims, as one does. Isn’t that what they want, the radicals, with all their attention-seeking missles? Anyway, this big dumb fuck gets nervous I suppose, and very concerned about a lot of people he’ll never ever meet or even piss on really, and he yelps that he finds me offensive, blah blah blah and eventually his girlfriend yanks him out of the club. I don’t know what he thought I’d do. Stop? Yeah, right. I just let him dig his own hole. He went home to beat his fists into a wall, and I stayed on stage and told more nasty gags. I love it when I win.
When I heard from the booker that the show had been reviewed, I choked on my fancy metaphors, but when I read the article by Melissa Blease, I found it sharp and brave and I think it represents a large element of my work quite well.
I’m posting this so when you come to see me this Saturday at the Machester Comedy Festival, you’ll know what to expect. This way, your dumb ass boyfriend might not embarrass you. Or maybe he will, which, frankly, makes for better comedy.

…But the evening belonged to Scott Capurro – a whippet thin, razor tongued acid queen with an on-stage persona as venomous as a viper, specialising in brutally honest, fully frank observations on chattering class taboos. No subject - from Maddie to Muslims, Catholics to the clitoris, paedophilia, racism and bombing Iran - is sacred. The unease in the room is often palpable; the punchlines hit so hard you can almost taste the blood that oozes from Capurro’s victims, many of whom are unsuspecting audience members who dare to sit within easy reach of the predator. One such punter vocalises his appalled protest; more fool the man who takes on the Wicked Witch of the West Coast and expects to leave with his red shoes intact. “It’s always the middle class white liberals, isn’t it?” Capurro sneers, in his wake. “He’s gone home to beat his wife up”. Meanwhile, those of us strong enough to stay the course were richly rewarded, our illicit guilty pleasure buttons pushed to the limits. We climaxed when a finger puppet show explored the dynamics of a new gay relationship, from giggling along with “I wuv you, kissy kissy” to wriggling apprehensively as the desolate sobs that emanate from “I’m going to fuck you ‘til you bleed” filled the room. Distasteful? Come on, bitch – you know you want it.
FIVE STARS

Wed, August 22, 2007
Standup and shout
Yuk yuk’s plays host to lineup of gay comics

By ANN MARIE MCQUEEN, SUN MEDIA
Wed, August 22, 2007
Standup and shout
Yuk yuk’s plays host to lineup of gay comics

Scott Capurro doesn’t hesitate when asked about possibly closeted Hollywood celebrities who are frequently the target of gay rumours.

The 44-year-old gay San Francisco comic, who headlines Ottawa Yuk Yuk’s 3rd Annual Laugh Out Proud weekend starting tomorrow, says show business is full of people putting on a straight face for their public.

“I think it’s pathetic and sad, but you know, show business, as an adult, it’s like drama in high school: Who’s attracted to it? All the queers, you know what I mean?” he says. “So many famous actors in interviews and radio shows and stuff, they’re all gay men. (Many) women in comedy in America, they’re all lesbians, too.”

Capurro says just like in pro sports, while their colleagues in the industry might be aware of their same-sex orientation, fans of big, closeted stars are not.

“The thing is, I’ve never dealt with it, because I’ve always been out. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand the stress and the tension people put themselves through just so they can make a movie,” he says. “But I do think there’s a lot of money at stake, and whenever there’s a lot of money at stake, then people start faking it.”

Capurro doesn’t see the point of trying to force celebrities out of the closet either, like gossip blogger Perez Hilton did with singer Lance Bass and actor Neil Patrick Harris. He just doesn’t buy the argument it will change anything, or inspire any youngsters struggling to accept and announce their own sexuality.

“Has it mattered?” he says. “Don’t the fag-haters still hate the fags?”

Capurro points to his mother, who despite being supportive of her openly gay son and remaining close friends with a gay ex-husband, still can’t bring herself to ask if he is dating anyone.

“She’s fine. But she still talks to me like, ‘Honey, have you made any new friends?’ ”

Capurro thinks the only thing that will truly bring about a general acceptance and understanding is time — decades of it.

“I think it’s a generational thing. I think older people have to die first,” he says, with a little laugh. “Sorry, I do.”

Scott Capurro: interview
From: Time Out London Magazine, January 19, 2007

California dreaming: Capurro reflects on the pandemonium he’s created
Audiences from Edinburgh to Australia have taken umbrage at Scott Capurro’s gags. ‘I think it was the masturbatory gesture while staring at Christ on the cross,’ he muses

Scott Capurro has a reputation for causing offence and upset. Back in 2000, in his show at the Edinburgh Fringe, he caused controversy with some material about the Holocaust. In Australia, one year later, there was considerable outrage when he cracked jokes on live TV about having sex with Jesus. As recently as last September the producer of a comedy show in Cape Town suggested that Capurro tone down some of his religious stuff. ‘That was like throwing down the gauntlet,’ he explains. ‘The Muslims were complaining: “Don’t mention the Koran. Just don’t do it!” So I did.’
Article continues

He’s been told that he scares people. It’s been put to him that sheer entertainment is sufficient in itself. ‘Obviously it’s not. Not enough. It’s not enough to be just a distracting clown.’ Capurro’s aims are best expressed by describing his plans for a series of ‘Laughtershocks’. ‘Hour-long monologues where, at the beginning, a question is asked and then, 55 minutes later, it’s answered.’ He’s got the first three questions lined up already: Why do gay men wanna get married anyway? Why are lesbians humourless? Why can’t black people tip? ‘As always with my act, we’ll examine the very phobias each question seems to support. Ironic, right? I’m here to prove Americans can master that last gem in the British crown.’

Capurro was born in San Francisco. He did his first paid gigs as a stand-up there in the early ’90s. ‘Then a gay comedy club opened in the city and got my first taste of being “out” on stage. I’d been closeted. Before that, I’d never told the audience, although I’m sure they could tell. My wrists have a mind all of their own. I’ll always feel my roots, professionally and personally, are in San Francisco. I spent New Year in my underpants drinking vodka in a bar full of shaved gays.’

In October, though, he moved into a flat in Bethnal Green. That’s because he spends most of his time now in the UK.

‘It’s the epicentre of stand-up,’ Capurro declares. England beckoned with increasing insistence from the moment he won the Perrier best Newcomer Award in 1994. His stand-up is more tailored to British audiences than American ones. ‘Now I own a property. My family is nice to me. They’re actually chatty and kind. Like I’m valid, and important enough to share their divorce details with, because I’ve bought a shower curtain. I’m intrigued what might happen when I buy a car, as I must, just to avoid British Rail on Sundays. Maybe my stepmother will finally reveal the location of her eldest son, who disappeared seven years ago. I liked him. He never spoke, and I think he might have been autistic, but he had an unintentionally gay moustache and big thighs. Do you see where I’m going with this? My financial prowess might lead to a reunion with the one man I’ve ever truly loved, and the only man I’ve ever chased who won’t have the physical strength to fight back.’

On Monday, at Soho Theatre, Capurro starts on a six-night run of his stand-up show ‘Yankee Dog Pig’. ‘I’m discussing slightly volatile subjects,’ he concedes. ‘I want to joke about racial hatred and martyrdom without taking a side. I want to reveal political hypocrisy. And tell a lot of dick jokes. I’m sure I’ll cover Blair. He’s an endless source of misinformation. His apology for the way Saddam was killed was a masterclass in hyperbole. Criticising the noose as cruel, after Blair has murdered so many needlessly and brutally, is both sociopathic and rather sweet, in a frightfully bloodcurdling way. But then the British government is one huge contradiction, constantly scrambling like a fallen cripple reaching for his wheelchair.’

Capurro remains unrepentant about the shit he stirs with his observations. Any further thoughts about the Australian furore? ‘I think it was the masturbatory hand gesture while staring at Christ on the cross that made those in the outback squirm. But it’s good for them, like a cold morning swim.’ Last year’s problems in Cape Town? ‘The queers hate themselves there. They’ve got AIDS up to the eyeballs and a culture that despises homo sex.’ The worldwide consternation? ‘When people pay for the show, they get a show, anal warts and all.’ He’s concerned about one thing. ‘I talk a lot about money and power because I want some. I have a mortgage now and I’m terrified everything will be taken from me and I won’t be able to make fun of who I want when I want.’

From the Evening Standard, which only just reviewed me favorably in February. This Dessau guy has a real hard on for me I guess.

…and Scott Capurro. Even in these open-minded days this hugely experienced provocateur would not get a whiff of the mainstream with his set that took in crucifixion, the holocaust and baby murder. Yet his childish shock tactics went down a storm. The clapping was accompanied by the whirr of Mary Whitehouse spinning in her grave.

And this is from a comedy website called Chortle. Again, she’s in love/hate with just about every move I make. I like it.

Scott Capurro, who Arthur Smith called ‘the epitome of waspishness’, lived up to his epithet like a hornet at picnic. His dark and sexual material caused a few backs to straighten and some nervous tittering. Sweeping across Catholicism, fancying the crucified Christ as masturbation aid, a ‘hot Jew on a stick’, British anti-Semitism, war-mongering and the Chinese, he could not have been any more determined to shake up the cuddly atmosphere.
His glee at putting the boot into political correctness made for some uncomfortable moments, redeemed by a splendid double-edged joke about Chinese women drivers where you couldn’t choose which part to be more offended by. His phrase ‘I can say this’ allowed him to be spectacularly offensive. How wonderful for him that his sexuality grants permission to go to town on his own prejudices.
His piece on his reading of the Koran drew some shocked laughter. However, his smooth delivery and sheer delight in playing the bad guy, and the fact that this all done in the name of comedy, just about kept the crowd with him. You know the material’s pungent when other comics say ‘he doesn’t need to be so offensive!

Fringe review: Yankee Dog Pig
by Amiel Bruch

Taking sledgehammers to icons, taboos and political correctness…

Tue 29th May, 2007 [updated Tue 29th May, 2007) Fringe 2007

of•fend v. of•fend•ed, of•fend•ing, of•fends

v.tr.

1. To cause displeasure, anger, resentment, or wounded feelings in.

2. To be displeasing or disagreeable to.

3. a. To transgress; violate: offend all laws of humanity.

3. b. To cause to sin.

v.intr.

1. To result in displeasure: Bad manners may offend.
2. a. To violate a moral or divine law; sin.
2. b. To violate a rule or law.

Is Scott Capurro offensive? Probably, according to most standard definitions. Is he funny? Undoubtedly, but how funny will depend on how easily one is offended and how one reacts to perceived offense.

Absolutely avoid this comic if you are easily offended and/or do not take perceived offense well. Absolutely do not miss this show if you want stand up comedy at its very best – raw, rich, harsh and thought-provoking humour delivered by an accomplished professional. It is also delivered at our expense – and by ‘our’, I am referring not only to his immediate targets in the audience but just about all of humanity – homosexual, heterosexual, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, disabled people, almost every race and nationality – come under the knife on Capurro’s comic operating table.

Taking sledgehammers to icons, taboos and political correctness is nothing new for comedians; where Capurro differs and excels is the relentlessness of his unapologetic attack delivered in such a mild manner. While his tone varies and he occasionally plays outrage, he generally steers away from the shouting that marks so many other ‘offensive’ comics, delivering his diatribe with a friendly, soft-spoken, west coast ease.

What also distinguishes Capurro is the absolute ease with which he makes fun of individual audience members. Putting down an irritating heckler is one thing, directly insulting probably a quarter of your audience another. It is something, however, that he does with incredible perception and wit, always leaving the audience wondering if he will go too far (or asking – has he already gone too far…?).

What is truly amazing about Capurro is that he can be so insulting and yet remain sympathetic and humane; his vitriol contains sharp and incisive commentary on both the sorry the state of the world and our own psychological foibles and contradictions. It is comedy that works through playing with our unarticulated thoughts and desires.

From the East Anglia events magazine, Grapevine

Scott, a San Franciscan, is camper than a troop of Brighton boy scouts pitching a row of pink chiffon tents. Although in Scott’s case you’ll find that the chiffon tears you apart like shark’s skin and the guy ropes are razor wire. He too had to deal with the distraction at the bar. A group, who by their own admission were at their first comedy night, obviously thought we’d all paid to listen to them rather than the comedians. Scott poked up with this for about…oh, a minute I reckon and then turned his material on them. What he said could in no way be considered diplomatic or PC but as an exercise in crowd control it was first class. Focusing on their ringleader who, having refused to give his name, he christened Cindy, Scott proceeded to let him know what he would like to do with him. Don’t get me wrong, it was all very complimentary, I guess, but not what your average twenty something male wants to hear from a tall, confident homosexual on Viagra, particular when it’s accompanied by the braying laughter of the rest of the room. Give him his due, the guy took it well…er I mean he accepted what was being said to him with alacrity (didn’t want you to get hold of the wrong end of the stick!) and they even had a chat when the show had finished (although the guy left pretty quickly - strange that?). I can’t imagine Scott Capurro ever being invited to give his views to the General Synod of The Church of England but on this evidence I’d happily listen to his point of view again, although, laughter aside, I’d do it in silence.

From me: oddly, after the show, the boys perched on the bar surrounded me and chatted very flirtily. I accused them of being ginger and they all showed me their pubes to prove they weren’t. Guys are so easy, they just love being complimented. They then asked if I had any coke - HOT - and they offered to take me drinking. In Wivenhoe. On a Thursday, after 11. God knows where we would’ve wound up. I sort of regret not finding out. Were I 10 years younger, I would’ve. Ok, 15. But I needed my bed.
Sad clown. x

Strictly for strong stomachs
By Bruce Dessau, Evening Standard 02.02.07

Taboo-busting: Scott Capurro does not care who he offends
Not for the narrow minded

Critic’s choice: Top five comedy shows

You wait ages for a comedian to discuss having sex with Jesus, then two come along in the same week.
After Richard Herring’s playful mock-blasphemy in Battersea, Scott Capurro’s sacrilege in Soho is much more warped.
His assertion that Christ was surely gay because he wore sandals is one of the more kittenish remarks in a viciously catty set-piece.
The skinny American played a fey make-up artist in Mrs Doubtfire, but there is no cosy campery here.
Capurro is an equal-opportunities taboo-buster, mercilessly attacking everyone from heterosexuals to Jews to the Dutch. Even Prince Philip would squirm at his snide asides about the Chinese.
Dig deeper, however, and the real target is Capurro himself. At 44 - “80 in gay years” - he wonders why he is alive when so many friends are dead.
His tense re-enactment of a phone call to get his latest HIV test results is a powerful peak in a show which, when it connects, is both deliciously funny and disturbingly honest.
This is as confrontational as comedy gets. One routine, replaying the imagined aggressive bedroom behaviour of black men, even had this heard-it-all hack feeling queasy. Strictly for strong stomachs.

Note from me: I’d print the other reviews here, from The Times or The Independent, but all my reviews sounded similar. 3 stars, 3 stars, 3 stars. I’m used to performing in tiny rooms with a half filled house to raves. At the Soho Theatre, I was performing to a larger, mostly sold out room, and nobody walked out. Maybe the critics like me contained. I know they’re threatened by a confident, remotely attractive gay man who has sex and speaks graphically about it. And what kind of rating do i expect, when i say that Jesus is AIDS? I prefer sold out rooms to the alternative, but i suppose i’ve always taken consolation in the fact that, no matter how aggressive audiences have become, at least the press support what I do. I guess I have nothing to bitch about, I’m being reviewed. But why bother, when the show changed dramatically every night? I feel let down by the people I thought were smart. Like my friends, or at least aquaintences, are turning away from my work.
Maybe this is what it feels like to finally become successful. I’ll call Graham and ask him.
xx