Sam Morill is busy in the mines of comedy, and has plenty of thoughts as he drifts back into Houston for a date at Cullen Performance Hall on Valentine’s Day.
What’s new? Morill shifts your expectations. “It’s more of the same, honestly,” he says dryly. ‘I remember Leonard Cohen had an album towards the end of his career called Old Ideas – that’s kind of what it is like for me. I am treading some similar ground, but in a new way obviously. I’m getting older. Some current events, some relationship stuff, some stories.”
So far, Morill has kept Taylor Swift’s lawyers at bay from his cleverly titled ‘Errors Tour’ – and the comic envisions the perfect communication between he and her team. “They reached out, and said: ‘You’re brilliant, one of the best. Taylor would love to meet you!’ And… I’ll see if I can fit her in. If a boyfriend pitches a girlfriend the show and doesn’t mention the artist, just the ‘Errors Tour’ and she doesn’t know exactly what she’s in for, I get more tickets sold!”
While personal stories are on the menu, Morill implores audiences to understand that stand-up does not equal therapy. “Anyone who says comedy is like therapy is probably a bad comic, “ he says, settling it. “It can still feel therapeutic, if something in the world bothers you and you find a way to laugh at it, that is therapeutic. But it has to be a great joke. Problem is: if you are emotional about a topic, the audience can feel that. You need to find some distance from the topic, you need to find a way for everybody to laugh at it.”
This is why it can be a challenge for the comic to craft the perfect off-the-cuff response type joke, Morill explains. “Jokes about things that just happened are tough. Like that plane crash, that’s horrible. Hard to make that funny right now. It really depends on the severity of that story. But there are ways to find something funny in everything, like I have Holocaust jokes in this hour. There’s a way.”
“Was it Mel Brooks who said Tragedy plus time, that’s comedy? There’s always a way, but its about the angle. Who are you making fun of? Who is the victim in the joke? But if there’s was a perfectly honed recipe, I’d have more jokes. It’s really let’s see what the feeling is right now, with this. You play with it. And you know when you know. A lot of stand up is trial and error.”
This philosophy might be why the often-candid comic has slight misgivings about getting involved with the purely-topical Netflix event called Torching 2024: A Roast of The Year. “Here’s the issue with that show,” he says, “When you roast people, usually they are in the room. That was what I said was the problem with the show from get-go. I didn’t really want to do it. I did it because Mark Normand agreed to it, thinking I was doing it. We were like, we should do it together, it will be fun. But I don’t like the idea of a roast where the people aren’t in the room. I don’t think that works, it’s flawed – which is why the people we roasted in our set were Luigi and Diddy. Let’s make fun of people that are in prison, because there’s at least a reason that they’re not in the room. If you sign up to be there, you are fair game – that’s kind of the unspoken rule.”
Despite regrets on the commitment, joining with his pal with Mark Normand helped salvage the experience. Normand, who Morill hosts a regular podcast with called We Might Be Drunk, has been a kindred spirit with the comic for years.
“I love working with Mark, he’s so easy to work with. We’re really old friends. I think those that listen can kinda feel that because we’re both too bad of actors to replicate that. We really bonded over our love of comedy and movies. Those late nights when I lived uptown and Mark lived in the Village and he would walk me to the train after sets. And then the conversation would keep going, we’d let the train go because we’re in a good conversation – which turned into like three hours on the street corner just talking. Obviously, there was a lot of shit talking of people at that corner too, but we cut that out of the pod. But when you have a friend you can just talk to and never get tired of it, that’s a good genesis of a podcast.
Ironically, Morill has more misgivings about working in the medium of podcasting that anything involving his co-host. “I’ve been on the record many times that I do not like podcasting. I love talking with Mark, but I don’t like the idea of this much entertainment that isn’t honed. But this is the way of the world these days.”
Which leads the scribe to his next venture: Morill wants to be part of the movement that brings comedy back to the movies. “I like writing scripts, so I’ve focused a lot of energy as of late on that. I like the idea of writing. Doesn’t seem like there’s a lot of money in this these day, for comedy movies. But also there is this hunger for comedy movies! It seems like there’s this weird void left from all these great comedies of [the 2000s]. Granted, stand up has filled a lot of that void. That’s why comedians can do all these theater tours. But there’s still a hunger.”
For Morril’s vantage point, it seems like the issues stem from the top. “These studios start tampering with the structure, and that’s what is beautiful about these movies. Like watch a movie like Caddyshack now, and you’ll be like: some of this is a fucking mess! But it works! But once you start tampering with it. Put it this way, would you rather watch a comedian do an hour long set on Netflix where they don’t fuck with your stuff. Or watch a comedian do five minutes on Jimmy Fallon, where they destroy your set and make you do all these weird things and the Network got involved.”
“If they actually would give us the resources and let us do a comedy the right way, it would crush. I think it’s coming. I think you see comic are gonna start taking this in their own hands, the way they took specials into their own hands. I’m taking you on the long winding road to say: trust the fucking entertainer.”
Morill ties the future fate of comedy movies with the destination where many would-be comedians have gravitated: the online space, particularly social media sites like TikTok. “It’s a tough time where people are getting very used to consuming shit for free on their phone. Now these finely honed movies or programs are competing against TikTok. But guess what? When you think about a great movie, that affects you. A great book, or great movie, or great TV show, that impacts you, how finely tuned that was. You’re not one day going to be marveling on a face to camera TikTok.”
Morill performs on Friday, February 14 at 7 p.m. at Cullen Performance Hall, 4300 University. For more information, visit cph.evenue.net. $34-67.
