Alice Viskat: How I learned to love the bomb
Comedian Alice Viskat’s aim with stand-up comedy is a simple one — to be brutally honest and wickedly funny.
She will be bringing this approach to her upcoming comedy special Fuck, Marry, Kill, with — as the name says — edgy, risqué tales.
Viskat, who is also a film actor, playwright and theatre director, is the founder of the Cape Town comedy club Evil Comedy.
The Mail & Guardian spoke to her earlier this week.
Charles Leonard: Let’s start with Fuck, Marry, Kill … Where did the idea come from?
Alice Viskat: The idea of doing a one-person show had always been in the back of my mind, but I never in a million years thought I’d be ready for it at this stage of my life.
Then, out of the blue, I was contacted by the wonderful Sebastian Daniels from Ground Culture, who offered me a night to do a solo show.
It was a golden opportunity I couldn’t turn down — even though I was absolutely skrikking my boeglam! [Scared out of my wits.]
I’m endlessly grateful to Bash for believing in me and giving me this chance because, truth be told, I doubt I would have had the guts to initiate it myself.
As for the name, that was a bit of a fluke. My graphic designer Studio Underside asked me for a placeholder title so he could start working on the poster.
I threw out a name on the spot, and, to my surprise, he loved it!
I trust his artistic instincts like a sniffer dog trusts its nose, so I took his word for it — and we ran with it.
That title … Who should not come to watch it?
My content is quite raunchy and explicit, so if you’re of a more conservative persuasion, perhaps this show isn’t for you — although I think the name should give that away …
Is it autobiographical?
I’ve been fortunate to live a colourful life filled with bizarre and unexpected adventures. So, when I started doing comedy, I figured — why not just share some of them?
Fuck, Marry, Kill is a celebration of life’s weird and wonderful moments — some relatable, some downright unbelievable — all woven together with plenty of giggles and guffaws.
Were you always funny?
My mom always thought I was hilarious — I can’t speak for anyone else.
Growing up, I used humour as a way to cope with life’s challenges but I never really saw myself as a “funny person”.
I’m not sure if the people who knew me before I moved to Cape Town would have thought of me that way either.
Back then, I didn’t have much self-confidence, so I probably kept a lot of myself tucked away.
Moving to Cape Town felt like a chance to start fresh. With no preconceived expectations hanging over me, I could finally be the person I wanted to be, not the person I thought I should be. It was freeing.
Everyone I met was a potential new friend, and I was so eager to connect. I quickly realised that one of the best ways to do that was to make ’em laugh. Don’t you know everyone wants to laugh?
When did you realise, “I can be a comedian”?
Honestly, I still don’t even know if I can be a comedian — I sort of stumbled into it. In 2022, I started a stand-up event called Evil Comedy on a dare.
I didn’t have any industry contacts and was struggling to fill the line-up, so I decided to give it a go myself. To my surprise, it went pretty well!
So, I figured … Why stop now?
Tell us about your first ever show.
My stage debut happened when I was three years old, when I played the cameo roles of a pig, a fairy and a clam in a local pantomime.
I’m not sure how well it truly went, but again, my mom thought it was fantastic.
Where do you find your jokes?
There’s a quote by [American author and queer activist] Glennon Doyle that resonates deeply: “I explain that now, when someone asks me why I cry so often, I say, ‘For the same reason I laugh so often because I’m paying attention.’”
Life can be really, really funny if you just watch and listen closely.
I just plagiarise the happenings of the world around me.
Is there anything you won’t joke about?
I tend to steer clear of political content because I recognise that many of these topics, while they might have comedic potential, are also deeply personal and often painful for those most directly affected.
I believe it’s more appropriate for those with lived experience of these issues to find their own space for humour and healing, rather than for me to profit from or trivialise their experiences.
How do you prepare for a show?
I talk to myself in my room, holding a can of dry shampoo as a microphone, like a crazy person.
Then I write out my material in bullet point form that, if read out of context, would also make me look like a crazy person. Then I get on stage and act like a crazy person.
What are your pre-show rituals?
I prefer to stay sober before and during my gigs. Other comedians have different tactics that work for them, but I’ve found with my predominantly theatre background, this works best for me.
Who or what has been your most intimidating audience?
I did a gig last year in Cape Town and the audience consisted of a handful of underage teenage boys who had clearly snuck in. Trying to seem older, they wore their best “too cool to care” faces and refused to laugh.
Being the only woman on the line-up, I was met with an extra layer of frostiness. I realised I’d lost them the second I got on stage, and I spent the rest of the set trying to win them back but it was like getting chewing gum out of a jersey.
It was the first time I’d ever, ever bombed and it was … liberating!
I’d performed the set the previous week and it had brought the house down and this experience really taught me that people’s opinions aren’t tangible things that can hurt or change you and fighting them is like punching air — pointless.
It was a genuine “Eureka!” moment for me.
Is it more difficult for a female than a male comedian in South Africa?
Comedy is inherently subjective, so it’s hard for me to definitively say whether females or males get more gigs. It’s a widely discussed topic, but my perspective is also limited by being a relatively new comedian.
Naturally, there are male comedians who get booked for more gigs than I do simply because they have more experience and are, quite frankly, funnier than me.
That said, there is definitely a lingering — and frankly backward — rhetoric that females are inherently less funny than males.
Thankfully, this notion is being actively challenged by younger, more open-minded generations, as well as by an ever-growing wave of undeniably hilarious female comics who continue to prove just how misguided that belief is. Still, I’ve found traces of this outdated mindset persist in certain spaces.
And starting a comedy club?
Running a business like Evil Comedy has given me a more objective view of the industry and I’ve observed just how difficult it can be to be taken seriously as a female in this field.
I’ve also noticed shifts in the way I’m treated based on my appearance.
For example, when I had long, blonde hair, I was often taken less seriously, especially by males.
After dyeing my hair back to its natural dark colour and cutting it all off, I noticed a distinct change in the level of respect I received.
Draw your own conclusions from that but it’s something that’s been hard to ignore.
Fuck, Marry, Kill will be on at The Outlore, 80 Hout Street, Cape Town on 19 December.