Tongue Tide

The troopers in Broken Lizard have frat-house humor licked.

by A.D. Amorosi

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Published: Nov 11, 2009

[ comedy ]

Dean Hendler THE SECRET GARDEN: "We each shared the story of the most embarrassing way we had ever pleasured ourselves," says Kevin Heffernan (pictured, bottom left). "From that day forward we were forever linked by the power of friendship and shame."

The five members of New York-based comedy troupe Broken Lizard are much like the writers and actors for Reno 911! Kevin Heffernan, Jay Chandrasekhar, Steve Lemme, Paul Soter and Erik Stolhanske, just like their L.A. cop counterparts, are totally offensive, gratuitous and appear to have been piped in directly from a sloppy, beer-soaked college frat.

The only difference is, Broken Lizard is actually funny — a feat achieved by going beyond the typical dick and fart jokes, albeit only slightly. They can be satirical and smart (Super Troopers). They can be vulgar and cheap (Beerfest). They can be subtle, wise and seductive (Club Dread). And they can put on a live act that's as stacked as the porn stars they so admire — most shows include sketches, standup, short films, a Q&A and audience participation.

Plus, they can make a police comedy you actually want to see. Burn.

City Paper: What was the first secret that the members of Broken Lizard revealed to each other — like the Masons — that would forever bind them as one?

Kevin Heffernan: At our first meeting, we each shared the story of the most embarrassing way we had ever pleasured ourselves. From that day forward we were forever linked by the power of friendship and shame.

CP: You guys went from performing strictly live to strictly film to what you do now, which is some strange combination of the two. How does your film experience change your live ideals?

KH: When we're on stage during the live show and we screw up, we like to yell "cut" and then keep doing the same line over and over until we get it right. We tend to disregard the fact that there is an actual audience there.

CP: Paul Stanley told me that democracy was overrated and that was why he alone produced KISS' newest album. Is it indeed better to have one guy steering the ship?

KH: We are firm believers in democracy. We really do much prefer decision by committee — to the point of paralysis. That's why we only make one movie every three years. And Psycho Circus rocks, bro.

CP: Tell me about some of your least successful shows.

KH: Our No. 1, all-time worst show is one that we call "The Hobart Show." Back in the early '90s, we got booked to do freshman orientation at Hobart College. We were slotted between an AIDS awareness presentation and the "Take Back the Night" date rape presentation. So the mood wasn't great. On top of that, everything that could go wrong technically did, including the audience being able to see us changing our clothes through a sheer curtain and a Swiss piano player accompanying us, whose only English words were "boogie" and "woogie." After the audience slunk out halfway through the show, we slunk back to our hotels rooms, got drunk, watched the video of the show and laughed our asses off.

CP: For all the work you guys do — stage, film, television — how is it that you've managed to not wear out your welcome?

KH: Frankly, it's because we don't work enough. Actually, we rarely work. If we could, we would whore ourselves out for money as much as possible, but no one ever calls us. You call it "keeping it fresh," we call it "unemployed."

CP: You seem to have most of your work plotted out for some time. I've seen notes on films titled Freeloaders, The Babymaker, Taildraggers and Tow Truck. When do you know an idea is ripe?

KH: The bottom line in the film biz: An idea is always ripe when the studio writes a check for it.

CP: Can you compare how fans appreciate Club Dread and Beerfest, as opposed to Super Troopers? For some, Super Troopers is an epic moment in cinematic history.

KH: I love them all, but I think part of the charm of Super Troopers is that, for most people, it's how they met us. I think we were fresh to a lot of people at that point. You're always working against that first impression, which makes things a little harder. A lot of people wanted to keep seeing me play the dumbass with a bad mustache.

CP: How do you think the audience will take to the film Slammin' Salmon, to be released this December?

KH: I think Salmon has all the elements that keep people loving the Lizard movies. Some highbrow stuff mixed with lowbrow stuff, some familiar faces, and a lot of balloon animals. Always balloon animals.

CP: Slammin' Salmon was the first movie you directed — what made you finally want to do it?

KH: I will not lie. I did not get to choose. I lost a bet and had to direct. Jay Chandrasekhar usually directs our films, but he was obligated to another project at the time. So we all made a bet: Who could fit the most fish sticks in their mouth? Guy with the fewest fish sticks had to direct. Believe it or not, that guy was me.

CP: Do you tailor material to each venue? For instance, what will you bring to the Trocadero? It's an old burlesque strip hall.

KH: Our show will have a little bit of everything. Sketch, standup, audience participation involving characters from our movies, some songs and definitely tons of juggling. Basically we have three different kinds of shows based on the audience: rowdy, kinda rowdy and dinner theater. For the Troc, we intend on bringing the rowdy.

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)

Fri., Nov. 13, 7:30 and 10:45 p.m., $26.50-$29, Trocadero, 1003 Arch St., 215-922-6888, thetroc.com.

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