Here, the comedy is front, but maybe not center.
The Front Room weekly comedy show, located in the front room of the Knitting Factory in Williamsburg, has unique challenges for comics. With a stage near the room’s entrance, the jokes are peppered with interruptions from new arrivals. Music seeps in from the back room, and noise from a busy street scene filters in through the front windows. But the Wednesday night show, hosted by one of four comics on a rotating basis, thrives on the energy created by the boisterous crowd.
We spoke with co-host Anthony DeVito about the show’s appeal and his favorite moments dealing with the audience.
How does the venue affect the show?
It has an “anything can happen” vibe. When I’ve been on stage, pretty routinely, an ambulance or cop car will go by — something loud and immediate will happen. And there’s always a band playing in the back room, so that’s happening. There’s a lot of activity in the room itself, which is good because you
have to be in the moment, which I think makes for a more lively show.
Does the audience appreciate that element of it?
I think they do. I think there’s more to it than being told jokes, one after the other. Those things seem to get the biggest laughs, when the [distractions] happen, and then comics play off of those moments. I think the comics also feel that they’re a part of it too, so I think they get a lot of enjoyment out of it.
Have there been any celebrity drop-ins?
There was one where I was hosting. I was looking over the crowd at the back and halfway through my set I realized that Rawls [played by actor John Doman] from “The Wire” was there. I was like “Holy s—, that’s crazy!” And then it became a thing where after every joke I told I would look back at him to see what his reaction was, and he laughed.
How have comics dealt with disruptive audience members?
There was a woman who was just talking and talking. It was getting louder and louder as Rob Cantrell was closing out the show. It got to a point where it was so loud that it was hard to focus on Rob because of her, and during his last minute or so, he finally addressed it. All of the chairs in the front were empty so he stepped on each chair leading to this woman in the back until he was pretty much screaming his jokes at her to make sure she would listen. It was impressive because she had no clue what she was doing wrong.
“The Front Room” at the Knitting Factory [361 Metropolitan Ave. between Havemeyer and N. Fourth streets in Williamsburg, (347) 529–6696], bk.knitt
