These days, the Toronto standup scene is incredibly diverse, with comics of various ethnic backgrounds regularly taking their turns at the mic.
Much of that is due to the Nubian Show, which launched 30 years ago this month. The brainchild of veteran standup, host and DJ Kenny Robinson, the legendary comedy room is the subject of “People of Comedy: Celebrating 30 Years of the Nubian Show,” a new feature-length documentary that hits streaming platform Crave on Wednesday.
The monthly show — which began life as the “Nubian Disciples of Pryor,” in homage to Robinson’s comedy hero, Richard Pryor — proved so popular that in its early days stars like Dave Chappelle, Kevin Hart and Will Smith were clamouring to check it out or do a set.
Robinson recalls seeing lots of Black talent around the city in the mid-’90s — comics like Ronnie Edwards, Mista Mo and Kedar — who were funny but not getting far in the business. And so, in consultation with Yuk Yuk’s co-owner Mark Breslin, he mounted the first show at the club’s Yonge and Eglinton location. It was so successful they had to turn away people at the door.
“We had given away 150 tickets, because we had no idea how big it was going to be,” said Robinson, in the current downtown Yuk Yuk’s green room after the March show.
“Back then all publicity was grassroots. We put flyers on car windows. We taped posters up on poles. We advertised in Share magazine and later put ads on Flow FM. This was way before social media.”
But mostly the show’s popularity spread through word-of-mouth. Especially once audiences discovered comics of colour like Russell Peters, Marc Trinidad and Ron Josol — who are all in the doc, along with Edwards — speaking in their own authentic, non-code-switching voices.
“The Nubian Show let us find our voices faster than other comedy rooms,” said Josol, one of the first Asian standups to emerge in Canadian comedy, in a separate Zoom interview with frequent Nubian performers Edwards and Crystal Ferrier.
“A regular room wouldn’t allow me to say half the things I would say at a Nubian show. You know how you’ve got to bring a Chinese guy to a Chinese restaurant with you so he can order for you? A white comedy room wouldn’t understand that, because those audiences wouldn’t have Chinese friends. They’d get the s—-ty white menu with combo A and B.”
By contrast, Nubian shows regularly served up comedy about the differences between Jamaicans and Trinidadians. When jokes killed, audience members mimicked celebratory gunshots fired in the air. But if an act wasn’t working, they could boo you off the stage.
“I think the booing came about because people had seen ‘Showtime at the Apollo’ and they adopted it,” explained Robinson.
“Even veterans like Mark Trinidad or Jean Paul walked up to the mic with butterflies in their stomachs. You never knew when you might get that bum’s rush. I’ve had people call me on my cell and tell me to get an act off. Sometimes, I’d throw a towel onstage, as if the comic was a boxer getting pummelled. That was all part of the fun. These days, audiences are kinder and gentler.”
Kinder and gentler, sure, but no less discerning. On the night I attended at the end of March — Nubian shows happen the final Sunday of each month — there was no booing. But laughter would sometimes dry up, signalling an audience’s impatience.
Afterwards, chatting with Robinson in the upstairs green room, many of that night’s acts popped in to thank him and pay their respects. One of them, Hassan Phills, is in the Crave doc and represents the newest wave of comedians conquering the scene.
“There’s an urban vibe to this room unlike anywhere else in the country,” said the Scarborough-born Phills. “I was in Dubai, and someone who runs a comedy club there had heard of the Nubian Show through Russell Peters. So it’s got an international reputation.”
Comic Ferrier credits seeing comedians like Peters with inspiring her to get into the business.
“When you grow up and people ask what you want to be when you grow up, kids say a doctor or a pilot,” she said. “Nobody says comedian because we have to see that first. We have to see that it’s possible. I saw Russell onstage and thought, ‘Oh hey, that guy looks like me. Our noses are similar. He’s Anglo-Indian, just like me.’ So that’s definitely a thing.”
In the Crave doc, Ferrier says when she got pregnant, many comedy clubs refused to book her.
“But Kenny booked me on the Nubian Show,” she said. “I asked him why and he said, ‘Those diapers cost a lot. You’re going to need the money.’ He’s always supported and pushed women to perform. You don’t find that with many other rooms.”
While a veteran like Edwards remembers a time when he could count the number of Black Canadian comics on one hand, these days there are dozens, many making a decent living.
“But if you look at all the comedy clubs in Canada, not one is owned by a Black person,” he said. “So who are these white comedy club owners going to hire? Their white friends, with a few exceptions. There needs to be more Black rooms.”
Robinson, for his part, is thrilled that in three decades the Nubian Show has continued to evolve, amplifying the voices not just of Black comics but Muslims, Asians and occasionally white comics, too. The audience, once almost entirely Black, is mixed as well.
In the Yuk Yuk’s green room, he pointed out there was another urban show in Mississauga that same night. And a lineup featuring four Black women happened the night before in the city.
“Once upon a time, we were the only dog in the neighbourhood,” he said, grinning. “Now we’re sniffing at the tree to see who else has recently peed there.”
“People of Comedy: Celebrating 30 Years of the Nubian Show” is streaming on Crave. The next Nubian Show takes place April 27 at Yuk Yuk’s. See yukyuks.com for information.
