You walk up the side stairs of The International Bar. On Wicklow Street. You stroll into a dark room, pay a tenner and, instantly, you hear laughter.
You’ve just made the smart move to go to see Dublin Comedy Improv.
Weekly improv at The International Bar
Dublin Comedy Improv is just one of the giggle-inducing acts that The International Bar Comedy Club hosts every night of the week. However, the comedy club has only been going since 1998, Dublin Comedy Improv – or DCI, for short – is around even longer.
Going since 1992, DCI is a true institution, a little gem in the city. Kicking off at 8pm, it’s been up there adding big grins to grim Sunday evenings for 30 years. I’ve seen a lot of lesser acts labelled ‘cult’ over the years, but this crew earn the accolade.
Watching these dudes, you get a brief history of modern Irish comedy from the sublime to the ridiculous. These faces have cracked gags in everything from Father Ted to the Republic of Telly.
There are eight in the troupe, but they don’t all turn up at every show. Tonight we got four. But, hey, that’s no cause for complaint. Michelle Read, Kevin Gildea, Ian Coppinger and Danny Keogh are a highly entertaining quartet.
With audience prompts and suggestions, they do a pretty perfect job of kicking up a joyous, anarchic racket. (And the crew that are missing are just as good as those present: Paul Tylak, Joe Rooney, Graeme Singleton and Sharon Mannion).
Three decades of madness
While the group’s permanent home is The International Bar, Dublin Comedy Improv has taken the gig around the globe too. RTÉ even gave them a couple of runs – on the wireless, no less.
But all messing aside – a tall order in this joint – what you are dealing with in this intimate, if not elegant, setting is some of Ireland’s top comics and comedic minds going spare. Acting the eejit. Acting the marvellous maggot. All right in front of you.
Professionals, in peak talent territory and they are out there having a laugh. Because, not alone is that what they are singularly good at, it is also screamingly obvious that it is what they really enjoy doing.
They are hitting 50. I notice they are all drinking water. And there’s maybe 40 people at a tenner a pop. So they are not getting rich. So what has them here? Enjoyment. Fun. Pure fun. And it’s palpable.
The International pub, where you just might hear an aria for a platypus. Illustration: Aoife Flynn
The only problem they faced all night was the struggle not to fall out of character and collapse into wild laughter. Michelle Read and Kevin Gildea say it’s that sense of “play” that motivates them.
Johnny Rotten may have gone on about ‘anger’ being an energy, but this crew make a compelling counter-argument for ‘fun’. Kevin Gildea mentions that a lot of the group do stand-up as a profession.
And he says that being out there alone on the stage can be very rewarding. However, it can also be exhausting. So Kevin says he really enjoys this chance to mess about with others on stage.
What to expect at a Dublin Comedy Improv show
As the name says, it’s improvisation. The audience throws ludicrous ideas, odd phrases and bizarre roles at the comics who run with, enhance or undermine them. Or whatever.
As I walked in, the comics were being challenged to provide an Appalachian opera about a lost platypus. Or something to that effect. Halfway through an aria to the duck-billed platypus, they get interrupted by breaking news: “Cheese cures cancer”.
The hillbilly tenor then has to stop pining for his platypus and tell the viewers how cheese cures cancer. In the manner of… Oscar Wilde. You get the picture.
And, as I say, they’re a funny crew. You can get 100 years of combined experience up on stage. And they are still sharp as shit. It’s all good, goofy fun.
Apparently, there are never really any hecklers. “I think it’s because the audience feels they are a part of the show,” Ian Coppinger says. “They’re the fifth Beatle.”
The goofy good humour seems to translate well despite the speed of the wit. Malinka from Albania said he understood the gig no problem. “Very funny”. As did the Peruvian guy outside at the break. In fact, he was ecstatic. He thought the show was hilarious.
Then, there was the well-groomed Irish guy in his late 40s. He was having a ball. He said he just got over cancer. Now, he was sizing up a promise he had made when ill – that he would get up on stage and try doing stand-up himself.
Kevin Gildea encouraged him. “Soon,” he said.
So. Upstairs. The International bar, Wicklow Street. Sunday Night. 8pm. A tenner. Go. You’d be silly not to.
Or you can pay a little extra to book your spot on Eventbrite.
