Richard Pryor:
Stand-Up Comedy Double Feature

In this era of endless CGI-driven blockbusters, it's hard to believe there was ever a time when stand-up comedy films were given wide, theatrical releases. With the exception of 2000's fluke success, The Original Kings of Comedy -- Spike Lee's second highest grossing film to date -- this doesn't really happen anymore. It could be that, in the age of DVD, people are more accustomed to watching this sort of thing in the comfort of their own home. And much like television shows, stand-up comedy -- with its hit-and-miss nature -- turns out to be ideally-suited to the chapter-stop-friendly medium of DVD.

Stand-up comedy doesn't get much better than Richard Pryor. Any fans of the legend who were reluctant to buy Sony's original, single-disc releases of Live on the Sunset Strip (1982) and Here and Now (1983) should probably consider buying this newly re-packaged 2-disc double feature. However, if you already own the original discs, you can probably ignore this set as it offers nothing new but a mini-infomercial for Sony's other Richard Pryor DVDs. For me, the highlight of this was my first glimpse of Jo Jo Dancer, a seemingly must-see auto-biopic, in which director-writer-star Pryor re-enacts his own life story in widescreen.

Those who aren't familiar with Pryor's stand-up act should probably be forewarned: although he's hilarious, he doesn't really tell jokes. In general, he simply tells punchline-free stories but with impressively stylized verbal gymnastics and inspired, imaginative turns-of-phrase that would later be adapted by countless black comics and at least one white filmmaker (Quentin Tarantino). The emphasis here is on dialogue and performance, not jokes.

As for these two features, this is a mixed bag to be sure. We get the usual selection of topics -- crack smoking, race, black women vs. white women -- but Pryor is in the midst of his "reformed" period so he's not as in-your-face with the insanity as he once was. Also, throughout both films, his performance feels restrained and curiously controlled.

What really stands out about these films is the fear in Pryor's performance. As he notes in Live on the Sunset Strip, he's not really angry anymore and this obviously deflates his act to some extent. It also lets his guard down and, when the audience starts firing back -- with generally inoffensive remarks -- in Here and Now, Pryor looks a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. This is most evident when someone in the audience refutes Pryor's claim that he's given up drugs. Pryor adamantly defends himself but, judging from the look on his face, I doubt he'd pass a polygraph.

The transfers on these discs are fine. Here and Now is directed by Pryor and, although we get a 1.85:1 anamorphic transfer, his visual approach is pretty straightforward. Live on the Sunset Strip is another story. Photographed in full frame by legendary DP Haskell Wexler (Bound For Glory, Coming Home), the film combines traditional footage of Pryor's stand-up act with some bizarrely polished, backlit dolly shots of the laughing audience. This is a truly peculiar approach that seems to flatter the audience more than it flatters Pryor. By visually romanticizing the act of getting-the-joke, this technique makes us feel good about ourselves for laughing in the right spots. Who knew stand-up comedy movies could be so manipulative?

It must be said that neither of these performances mark the screen highlight of Pryor's stand-up act. For that, I'd suggest Richard Pryor: Live in Concert, currently available on a DVD from MPI. This earlier act features the grittier, not-quite-a-superstar-yet Pryor. Pauline Kael once cited this performance as one of the greatest screen performances of all time. While Sony's Stand-Up Comedy Double Feature doesn't exhibit the same comic virtuosity, it's still a worthy addition to any Pryor fanatic's collection. Now where do I get my copy of Jo Jo Dancer? -- Jonathan Doyle