The Old Kids on the Block
Those five Canadian wise
guys might have an outdated moniker, but their humor
remains topical.
Colin Covert
February 25, 2000
Minneapolis Star Tribune
Fifteen years into their commando assault on sanity,
the Kids in the Hall are more popular than ever.
Thanks to daily reruns of their show on Comedy
Central, the cross-dressing quintet has a bigger fan
base now than when they left the airwaves in 1994.
Their fervent following has made the Kids' current
25-city reunion tour one of the top 10 North American
concert attractions (eat dust, ZZ Top). It might be a
little harder for the Kids to squeeze into their party
dresses, but they're still game to goof.
"The name 'Kids in the Hall' is pathetic at this
particular point," concedes Mark McKinney, a cult god
for his portrayal of The Chicken Lady, The Head
Crusher. "We're 37 to 41 years old. But in another 20
years when we're balding, short, fat old men, it'll be
cute. People will go, Awwww!" The son of a Canadian
diplomat, McKinney spent his formative years shuttling
from Denmark to Trinidad and from France to the
States. As a result, he developed into a
self-described "maladjusted, nervous" youngster who
devoured Mad magazine.
After two semesters of college, he quit and joined the
Calgary branch of Theatre Sports, an improvisation
troupe, where fate introduced him to future Kid Bruce
McCulloch, who had a gift for musical satire. In the
early '80s, they created a group called the Audience,
which became notorious for aggressively loony
sketches: They appeared on stage as nude evangelists
and pulverized produce with a baseball bat, though not
at the same time. They joined the Toronto duo of Dave
Foley and Kevin McDonald, who were performing
high-concept bits (corporate drone drops out to become
a beaver) as the Kids in the Hall. Scott Thomas signed
on in 1984, adding a sexually provocative sensibility
and prodding the others to polish their acting skills.
Through a collaborative process akin to hockey
brawling, the Kids were born.
CROSS PURPOSES
A hallmark of the all-male troupe's performances was
their routine appearances as female characters. The
group's adopted androgyny was a pragmatic decision,
not a grab for a cheap laugh, McKinney says. "We
never expected people to be shocked when we did it.
It's like, duh, we're five guys. What are we gonna do,
slice out half our sketch ideas because we can't
pretend to be our girlfriends or moms, or whatever
we're parodying at a certain point? I think it's
become more mainstream. And good, because I think it
adds something. But we never did it for shock value... It wasn't going to work if you played it for a
laugh in the old Uncle Miltie way - oh my God, I'm
wearing a dress. It had to be, no, this is a
character, this is how these characters collide, and
it's going to be funny."
A standard bit about date negotiations (dinner,
dancing and intercourse?) gained a comic boost when
the woman was played by a man in a party dress. The
Kids' outrageous brand of sketch comedy demolished
sacred cows like a buzz-saw chewing through balsa
wood. They riffed on AIDS (Liz Taylor might be the
cause). They lampooned alcoholism in a "Lost
Weekend"-style saga of a girl drunk hooked on little
fruity cocktails. They turned the crucifixion into
sing-song gibberish in "The Dr. Seuss Bible."
Bowled over by their mix of subversive satire, sheer
nonsense and outright raunchiness, "Saturday Night
Live" creator Lorne Michaels proclaimed them "the
Monty Python of the '80s." Fellow Canadian Michaels
brokered their breakthrough special on HBO and
launched the ensemble into a career trajectory that
has been, if not stratospheric, at least high-flying.
Their series aired new episodes from 1989 to 1994 on
CBC, HBO and CBS, and has been rerunning since then on
various cable networks "We've never really been off
the air," McKinney said.
The Kids in the Hall took their name from the aspiring
writers who lined the corridor outside Jack Benny's
office and peppered him with suggested jokes. Though
the group has enjoyed success with films, TV, albums
and off Broadway, the tag still fits, McKinney said.
"I still think the outsider status is merited. It's
such a rare experience to get on TV as the authors of
your own show. But we managed to exist kind of below
the radar and were pretty much left alone by
everybody. And then of course there's the slight
outsider status you get from being Canadian. Our
culture, especially in English Canada, is so heavily
dominated by the States. Yet it's across the border.
That gives you kind of an interesting outsider's
perspective."
POSITIVE DYSFUNCTION
The Kids have been gratified, though somewhat
surprised, by the success of their tour, which mixes
favorite sketches with a generous dose of absurd new
material. This is the first time they have appeared in
public since the premiere of their ill-fated film
"Brain Candy" in 1995.
It's been a virtual sellout everywhere. That's been
weird, especially in places like Texas where we sold
out months ahead of time and could have done three or
four shows in each of the cities we played,'' McKinney
said. The group has discussed a more extensive tour,
even though the experience is draining, he said.
"This is only two months. I don't know how rock bands
do it.
Unbelievable," said McKinney, who said he thrives on
performing live nonetheless. "Even as exhausted as I
am now, it's always great. It's also a great way to
develop some new material. There's some talk of us
developing a movie the way the Marx Brothers used to
do it, with 'A Night at the Opera,' which is to take a
premise and keep playing it and test it until you get
it right."
It could be a bruising experience, as five conflicting
points of view duke it out. "Dave and Kevin are more
from the school of classic one-liner and premise
comedy. Bruce brings his arty thing, and Scott brings
his," McKinney said. "We're not all the same types
of performers, and I think we're the stronger for
it." That diversity comes at a price, however. A
large part of their creative process is devoted to
arguing.
"Everyone takes turns being the peacemaker,"
McKinney said. "If I go off or someone else goes off,
someone else will be the mellow. There's a certain
healthy yin and yang in our dysfunctional little
group."
Reunions being what they are, there's also an
inevitable bit of cattiness about who still looks best
as a woman, he admitted.
"Dave still looks good. Scott boasts about his legs.
Bruce wears too much makeup, but we don't tell him
that. And I'm the prettiest of all."
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