Bruce McCulloch on bringing his one-man show to Victoria and his fond memories of the Island

There aren’t many that can lay claim to being a true comedy legend. But Bruce McCulloch, a man who makes up one-fifth of the iconic Canadian sketch comedy troupe The Kids in the Hall, has earned that right.

From bringing his Edmonton “punk” comedy to Toronto—then to the world—to his days as a writer at Saturday Night Live, McCulloch has had his hand in projects that have influenced the comedy world over decades.

Now, he’s touring his one-man show Tales of Bravery and Stupidity — and he’ll be performing it Saturday at the McPherson Playhouse.

Capital Daily sat down with McCulloch to talk about the show, how comedy has evolved, and his memories of learning how to drive in Ladysmith.

RB: You’re bringing your show Tales of Bravery and Stupidity to Victoria—what can people expect from it?

BM: “To have their minds blown. No, it's, you know, it's a comedy, sort of stand-up, music show storytelling. You know, somebody said in one of the reviews, ‘It's like a magic trick. It looks like a stand-up show, and then it turns into quite a moving theatre show,’ which sort of points to the whole thing. I did it a couple of times off-Broadway and now that it's toughened I can bring it to Victoria. As it should be.”

The show’s name says it all—a reflection on the bravery and stupidity of life. How did you come up with the name and how is that incorporated in the show?

“Well, it's the universal thing. It's the things we do to get ourselves into trouble. You know, in my instance, it's been pointed out that I do that in my life just for the material. But I think it's really, you know, it's a show really about us and what we've been through over the last few years, and, you know, the heartbeat of it is my weird worldview, but also my humanity.”

Does comedy help you make sense of your life?

“Oh, yes. And I talk about that—I say in the dark times, sometimes humour is all we’ve got. At the darkest times in my life, I've kind of never been funnier. And I think we really use it. And we don't use it to make fun of what's happening to other people ourselves. I think we actually use it to get through and make sense of life.”

How have you found the show has evolved over the years?

“Well, I just move it around. It's great to have something that has a shape, but I'm easily bored. So some things I just take out and I put in a new thing. And you know, it also always reflects a little bit what I'm feeling about. And, you know, I'm sure I'll do something about the weird little city and place that is Victoria once I get there and start, you know, looking at things. I remember the last time I was there, there was a rabbit cull going on. I don't know what you people are up to now. But we'll see.”

I’ve heard the rabbits are making a comeback, so who knows?

“Oh, of course they are.”

You integrate a lot of music into your comedy—how has music influenced your creativity and your comedic presence?

“I mean, when I was a young kid, all I cared about was rock music. I had shitty parents, so rock raised me. I've always—even in my comedy or my work, even as a director, whatever—I've always felt like, ‘what's the music going to be?’ Or I hear something that inspires me and I write a monologue to it. So it's just something that kind of supports the emotion of the thing you're doing or the fun of the thing you're doing. And I've always done that whenever. Even when I started many years ago at the Loose Moose in Calgary. It's like, what music should we play under their scene? So I think it's not wall-to-wall music, but there is lots of music [in the show] composed by Craig Northey from Vancouver, who you may know from the band Odds and some other things. So it's just really a big part of it.”

Tales of Bravery and Stupidity is a one-man show. So how do you find solo comedy work versus working in a group?

“Well, it's just a different pursuit. It's like cardio versus weightlifting—they're the same thing in a way. Working in a group is fun, because you have the support of everyone else and you know, the best idea wins. If it's the five Kids in the Hall, sometimes you can roll the boat pretty fast. But on your own, it becomes—this may be kind of obvious—it's more personal. You can follow your weird impulses, and sort of put it together in a more instinctive way. But I never think of it as a one-person show, I always think of it as two people because the audience is the other person.”

Do you find that you play off the audience more with a solo show?

“Oh, always. And every night is different. It's like a different person every night. Sometimes it warms up slowly. Sometimes it laughs in weird places, and you follow that impulse. That's sort of the beauty of it. Of course, if something strikes my fancy, or, you know, someone's wearing a Trump hat in the front row. Not that that would happen in Victoria. You can mix it, make some sense of it, and talk about it if you feel like it.”

You've described yourself and The Kids in the Hall as being sort of comedy punks. Do you think that sort of alternative approach exists now for people starting out in comedy? Or was that sort of like a special alchemy that existed in the 1980s and 1990s?

“Well, both. [ The Kids in the Hall] are five of a kind. When I wrote for SNL, I thought there'd be all these amazing writers, and they kind of were, but they weren't my band. So we five play the same music.

I think now, you know, TikTok and YouTube are kind of the new punk thing. I know lots of my friends—you might know Darcy and Jer out of Ladner—I developed television with them and then they would just want to start doing YouTube videos. Now they play way bigger theatres than I play. Because they're making it themselves. My son's 17, and he shows me the weirdest things on TikTok that are non-sequiturs that even I don't understand. So I think there's a way that the unbridled forces can just find a way. It was punk music. Now it's people making their own little videos and TikToks—there is some cool, weird, weird stuff on there.”

‍ You're right. It's kind of like the Wild West of creating new comedy.

“Yeah. And, you know, a friend of mine, Julie Nolke who just made her own little videos and she wasn't getting work as an actor. And then, oh my gosh, she has a million followers now. It always works for the people on TikTok or YouTube if it's really honest, like they're not expecting it to be successful and they just do it for fun. I think that's just a great conversation about anybody doing any art.”

You mentioned being a dad. I'm wondering, what do you think about the new generation’s comedy—Gen Z’s comedy versus what you came up with?

“It’s different. I think some of it's great. But I feel like our comedy has a sense of purpose—not saying purpose, like, why are we doing it? It's like, we go out and we want to do great. We want to uplift people and have it be the best night of their lives. And sometimes I've seen the odd YouTube famous person just sort of like, ‘oh, watch me brush my hair in a weird way.’ So I think my thing has always been about purpose.”

A couple of years ago, you did a reboot of The Kids in the Hall. What was it like to revisit that chapter of your life and work with the team again?

“Well, we're good all the time. You know, we did do a mini-series about 10 years ago called Death Comes to Town, but [2022] was the first time since the OG series that I would look over at 6am and Scott Thompson was turning into Fran. It's been forever, but it's always the same. So it was fabulous, it was hard—it was still in the heart of COVID. But, it just felt important for us to push the rock up the hill and do something fun in culture again. But it wasn't weird—when we get together, it really is like a family meeting for Christmas. Immediately, we’re making fun of each other.”

Any chance that there could be another reboot in the future?

“We're talking about doing a bunch of things. I think what's gonna scratch our next itch—that’s a weird phrase—is we're talking about doing live shows. And I don't know if that'll come together, but it'll come together or not in the next few months.”

Coming from Edmonton and then moving to Toronto with The Kids in the Hall—do you find there’s a difference in the comedy scene between East and West Canada?

“I actually think it's the same. That's what I learned with my great life with The Kids in the Hall. You know, people in Detroit are gonna laugh in the same way as the people in Victoria. It might be slightly different. But the people who are like-minded, who say ‘the world doesn't have to be the way we've described it.’ Whether they look weird, they have tattoos, some of them now have grey hair—I think there's a sensibility that's universal from every city I go to. The problem would be if I went to, like, Catch a Rising Star, a comedy club in New York, because maybe 20% of the audience would know who I am. So I think like-minded people come to my shows and [KITH] shows.”

Interesting—because I was wondering too, America vs Canada: I've always found that Canadian comedy has sort of a quirkiness that I don't think exists in the States. But do you find that it's pretty consistent throughout?

“Well, there's all kinds of comedy right? And some people really want to deliver. And I think, I think America prizes energy sometimes over heart or a cerebral, um, cerebralness. Is that a word?”

It is now!

“So, yeah. I think weird ideas in general in America don't float as well as they may here. But, you know, I just did Minneapolis and they were like two great, rockin’ shows. I think they're the same as the people I saw two months ago in Portland, you know? And here as well, of course— hopefully, people come [to the show] in Victoria.”

Of course, they will! Speaking of Victoria and the Island, have you been to Vancouver Island before?

“Yes, a few times. My aunt who taught me to drive in her old Volkswagen, she lived in Ladysmith. So I would come often in the summers as I was forming my brains first as a teenager. Then, even later, as I was sort of starting my world in The Kids in the Hall. She was just a crazy spirit. She was really into First Nations art, she worked for Hudson's Bay Company, and she really helped me with my artistic sensibility. I would come often in the summer and just hang around that weird waterfall, whatever it's called. Of course, I’ve also performed here a few times. So I remember the first time on my first tour around 2000. I came here and there was that sort of cliche about Victoria that it would just be all old people. But there were so many hipsters and I was like, ‘wow, there are really young, cool people here.’ And then there's people around my age who are really into Malbec. And both of them are valid.”

‍ Do you have any plans for some fun on the Island while you're here? Other than the show, of course.

“Well, I might start a rabbit cull. No, but I’ll be in and out. I'm in Kelowna, the next night. The life of the traveling salesman.”

Well, I hope you at least get to enjoy the little time you have here.

“I’m really looking forward to it—it’ll be fun!”