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Never Seen It: Watching Labyrinth With Actor/Podcaster Markus Seaberry

This time in the Never Seen It hot seat is Markus Seaberry, prolific Memphis film and television actor and co-host of the Black Nerd Power podcast. He had never seen the 1986 Jim Henson fantasy Labyrinth, which was released 35 years ago this summer. We set out to fix that oversight.

Chris McCoy: What do you know about Labyrinth?

Markus Seaberry: I know David Bowie is in it, Jennifer Connelly is in it, and Jim Henson put some Muppets in it. I didn’t see it, because, for my African American churchgoing parents, the trailer has to have Black people prominent in it, or it’s no deal. That’s true to this day. I tried to show them Slumdog Millionaire, and they were like, “Where’s the Black folks?”

CM: We talked for a long time about what movie you wanted to do, and you ended up picking this one. Why, out of all the films we discussed, did you pick this one, specifically?

MS: Because I feel like my eighties kid cred is not official until I see Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal. In the early days of my podcast, Black Nerd Power, my co-host Richard Douglas Jones, found out I had never seen them, and our friendship has never been the same.

CM: OK, time to save a friendship. Let’s go.

101 minutes later…

CM: You are now someone who has seen Labyrinth. What did you think?

MS: I’m freaking out. My mind is not used to so many practical effects! It’s been so long since I’ve seen a film like this, because everything now is just CGI’d to hell. And it’s great! I love the battle scene where you get live chickens, a puppet on a live dog, Muppets all around, puppeteers in the mix controlling the big monster Ludo, and then a live Jennifer Connolly. And it’s all mixing together like orderly chaos.

CM: It feels real, in a way that the Marvel movies don’t. It hit me during that scene that this film has a “Marvel third act,” where the heroes fight a faceless army that comes out of nowhere. I guess movies have been doing that for a long time. I may not have seen this movie since the ’80s. It came out while I was working in a movie theater, so I saw everything. I remember seeing it on VHS, too. It was a lot better than I remembered.

MS: I liked in the beginning, they show you a shot of Maurice Sendak’s Where The Wild Things Are. Then, in the closing credits, it said “Jim Henson acknowledges his debt to the works of Maurice Sendak.”

CM: Ludo looks like one of those big Wild Things.

Ludo

CM: Like you said while we were watching it, there is a very strong Wizard of Oz thing going on. Our heroine is not following the Yellow Brick Road, but she’s finding her way through the labyrinth. There are also a lot of beats from Alice in Wonderland. Terry Jones wrote the first draft. It’s obvious that a lot more thought went into the story than you see in a lot of movies today. It’s a dude from Monty Python self-consciously trying to construct a fairy tale-like narrative. All those guys were super well-educated. I think Terry Jones went to Oxford.

MS: I dug it. Yo, we gotta talk about Bowie, man! I mean, wow! Normally in stuff like this, I prefer people to play it straight, because I feel like if you ham it up, it makes it a cartoon. But I think this needed to be kind of cartoony and over the top. Bowie hamming it up worked, and it was cool to hear him singing the songs in the middle. It gave a kind of a musical aspect.

CM: He’s so good. And you know, whenever he acts, he’s always great. Like in The Prestige, he’s Tesla, playing opposite Christian Bale, and it’s just perfect. But yeah, you’re right about playing villains low-key. I mean, I love seeing people go over the top if they do it right. It’s such a tightrope walk.

MS: He was just perfect the whole time.

CM: Another great actor who goes over-the-top in an eighties fantasy movie is Max Von Sydow in Flash Gordon.

MS: Ming the Merciless!

CM: He might be my favorite on-screen villain. But then, from around the same time, you’ve also got James Earl Jones as Thulsa Doom in Conan The Barbarian. He plays it straight, like you were saying, and it’s chilling.

CM: Those sets! There’s that one shot, where Ludo comes out of the top of the tower, and you see the whole city behind him. That was real!

MS: Hammers and nails created that, not ones and zeroes.

Ludo don’t need no CGI.

CM: And that scene when that room blows up, and Sarah flies out—they really did that!

MS: Well, she had a stunt double. The first thing I saw Jennifer Connelly in was The Rocketeer. She was young in that, but she was really young in this.

CM: She was 16. This is a super hard part. Can you imagine how long they were on set?

MS: It just seems like a lot of moving pieces.

CM: They were throwing everything at it, too. There was rear projection, there was green screen. There were all kinds of practical sets. There were puppets everywhere. The MC Escher sequence, that was insane. To me, it was better than the Escher sequence in Doctor Strange.

MS: Hey now, you know I’m a Marvel zombie, man.

David Bowie as Jareth, the Goblin King. The sequence was inspired by M.C. Escher’s lithograph “Relativity”.

CM: We need to talk about David Bowie’s penis.

MS: Oh, God….

CM: It was very prominent.

MS: It was inescapable.

CM: There was one shot, we both said something. The bulge had its own fill light.

MS: Do you think he used a sock, or not?

CM: No, I think the Thin White Duke was packing heat.

MS: More like the Thick White Duke.

Ladies…

CM: This is a fairy tale with a female protagonist. I know the Hero’s Journey — everybody knows the Hero’s Journey — but there is a corresponding Heroine’s Journey that I don’t really know as well.

MS: It also is cool that she didn’t feel like your typical damsel in distress to me. I mean, she had help. I’m a dude and I feel like that’s condescending, so I can only imagine what women feel like. It’s like, yo, let the woman save herself sometimes.

CM: And she solves problems not by fighting, but by persuading friends to help her. She figures things out herself. She solves the riddle where one guard always lies, and the other one always tells the truth. She solves problems by making friends. That’s part of it. Like I said, I don’t know the Heroine’s Journey, but women protagonists in this kind of stuff, they don’t refuse the call to adventure, where in the Hero’s Journey, he always refuses the call to adventure, and is then forced to go anyway. Even Jesus refuses the call, you know? But Sarah never does. Look at Rey in the Star Wars sequel trilogy, in The Force Awakens. She never refuses the call, either.

MS: That’s true. I gotta say, it’s cheesy, but I liked it. I think fantasy can be too self-absorbed, too self-important sometimes. Sometimes you just want scrambled eggs for breakfast.

CM: It’s fun and cheesy, but it’s also psychologically grounded. It’s that eighties high fantasy, but this is the moment that the eighties aesthetic became decadent. This is considered the low point of Bowie’s entire career, musically. And, um, it’s not great. The synthesizer stuff that seemed so sophisticated and Euro a few years earlier now just seems chintzy.

MS: I still dream of owning a keytar.

CM: Well, yeah. Of course.

MS: I was willing to accept the asethetics because there’s heart to it. Listen, I was a little let down by the final confrontation, because it wasn’t as physical as I probably would have liked, but that’s not what Jennifer Connelly’s character was doing. She’s not carrying a big stick and breaking stuff. She’s been using her wits to elude the villain and rescue her baby brother.

CM: And if you think about it, the ending is her telling a toxic boyfriend to fuck off.

MS: I see that. I see that.

CM: Getting back to David Bowie’s package, there’s a very strong element of her sexual awakening. She eats the fruit, like Persephone, and then she’s transported to like this Eyes Wide Shut sex ball, and Bowie sings the best song in the movie, “As The World Falls Down.”

MS: I thought it looked like a Calvin Klein commercial.

CM: The thing that she’s most threatened by is being attracted to David Bowie. But Jareth is a total toxic boyfriend who’s gaslighting her the whole time. At the end, he was like, “Oh, what are you doing to me? I did everything for you, and you’re throwing me away!” Classic toxic boyfriend move. Then she says, “You have no more power over me!” That’s how she wins: She breaks up with the chump.

MS: There’s a little love morality tale, there. And we need to start a punk band called David Bowie’s Package.

Jennifer Connelly as Sarah, and Hoggle, played by puppeteers Shari Wiser and Brian Henson, son of Jim Henson.

MS: Hoggle man. I thought he was so ugly, I thought he was going to be villanous. He was an unwilling servant, but as time went on, he became more sympathetic and grew on me.

CM: She’s the one who says “You are my friend.” And he’s like, “Nobody accepts me as a friend.” Once again, she solves problems by using empathy and making friends.

MS: And also Ludo is the best!

CM: He’s the Chewbacca figure who can command smelly rocks, somehow. 

MS: Yeah. I was trying to figure out. I thought it was telekinesis, but it’s more of a voice command. It’s more like a summoning.

CM: If it was D&D, his special power would be Summon Fart Rocks.

The goblins.

CM: So, bottom line, would you recommend Labyrinth to people?

MS: Yes, but with parameters. Know that it’s cheesy, and embrace it. It’s not trying to be cool. And the heart balances out the cheese.

Categories
Cover Feature News

Memphis Podcasts Are Finding Their Tribes

Podcasts are having a moment. Well, they’ve been having a moment. And, these days, it seems everyone has one.  

Shaq has a podcast. Jay and Silent Bob have one. Snoop Dogg has one.

Paula Deen (remember her?) has one. Neil deGrasse Tyson has one. So do Goldman Sachs, GE, Netflix, and eBay. 

Right there on your phone or laptop or car radio you can hear shows about film, music, comic books, art, finance, history, UFOs, technology, current events, Donald Trump — name the subject, and there’s a podcast (or six) about it. And you can hear most of them for free.

But podcasting has been around a long time. It’s so old that the word itself is a portmanteau of “broadcast” and “iPod” (remember those?). The word was coined around 2004, when some of the first podcasts were being produced on a consistent basis. Apple included support for podcasts in iTunes 4.9 in 2005, so users didn’t have to download the shows and then port them to their mobile devices. They were just … there. Soon thereafter, radio companies began to flow their content on the iTunes platform, and the medium took off. 

Podcasts’ recent rise is credited largely to Serial. The true crime show was downloaded 10 million times in the seven weeks after its debut. And its follow-up, S-Town, shattered that record. Both shows brought millions to the podcasting medium.

Though more than half of the country (60 percent) knows the word “podcasting,” only 40 percent of Americans have ever listened to one, according to new data from Edison Research. Those who listen regularly are mostly educated males with a good, full-time job, according to Edison. Even still, most podcast listeners said they don’t listen on a regular basis.

But, while podcasts are having a moment, they also have a bright future. Podcast ad revenues have grown by 85 percent since this time last year, according to a new report from the Interactive Advertising Bureau and PricewaterhouseCoopers. And that figure is on track to reach more than $220 million this year. For this, an IAB executive said the podcast landscape will continue to grow mainstream.

The podcasting universe has historically been populated with independent producers making independent shows about whatever in the hell they found interesting. They’d chronicle their own lives, or talk sports, or just talk with friends while they played party games. (See the OAM Network section of the story below.)

There are now dozens of podcasts in Memphis — about sports, music, social media, bikes, fitness, insults, creativity, and, perhaps not surprisingly, there are a ton of shows about church and religion.  

Welcome to Night Vale, one of the most successful podcasts of all time, is slated for a live performance Tuesday, July 11th, at the Germantown Performing Arts Center. Also, look for the newly re-launched Memphis Flyer podcast out now on memphisflyer.com, iTunes, or wherever you find podcasts.

For this issue, we found some of the city’s most interesting podcasts and talked to the creative, hard-working people behind them. Even so, we certainly couldn’t cover every show in Memphis, which is a great problem to have. We fully expect, though, that many, many more creative Memphians will find their ways to the medium, slap on some headphones, slide behind a microphone, hit record, and broadcast our city to the digital masses. — Toby Sells 

OAM NETWORK
Podcasts, like everything else, provide endless possibilities. That’s the way Gil Worth sees it. 

“I don’t know if it’s my dumb creative brain, but I have to think about podcasts as more than just [radio on demand],” he says. “They can be anything.”

His OAM Network proves it. Scroll through the list of shows at the Memphis-based, independently owned and operated podcast network, and you’ll find shows about social justice, bikes, games, current events, and being a black nerd in Memphis.

Worth started the network in 2012, and while it has 10 separate shows on the air now, the OAM vault has 20 shows which aren’t “live” anymore but can be accessed anytime.

Burned out on years of playing music, Worth discovered podcasts. He had recording equipment and time and thought, “Maybe I could do one of these.” He did. It was a variety show with interviews, discussion, and games. Did anybody listen?

“Probably not, no,” Worth says.

But he enjoyed the process and kept going. Others started asking him how he did it, and he offered them his help. Then, he formed the OAM Network (OAM is an acronym for the first letters of his children’s names: Owen, Adia, and Mia). 

The network will soon move to a brand-new studio in Crosstown Concourse. Church Health partnered with the OAM Network and Forever Ready, a video production company, to house both organizations in a big, glass booth on the ground floor of the building, there for all to watch. 

While podcasts are, indeed, having a moment, Worth hopes that moment lasts a long time. “It’s almost like my mission statement,” Worth says. “Is it going to last, or did I make terrible decisions? Ah, you should’ve stayed in school, Gil.”  — TS

www.theoamnetwork.com

Justin Fox Burks

Southern Hollows

SOUTHERN HOLLOWS
Stinson Liles’ new history podcast Southern Hollows peddles in the grim and the inhumane — all of it a particularly Southern shame: a man is set on fire, babies are stolen, a mob breaks into a prison, a town is flushed of its black citizens.

One could argue that it makes all the sense in the world that this masterfully done podcast with its focus on long-ago bad deeds done south of the Mason-Dixon line is a result of current events. 

“Right up to the election, I was listening to a lot of current events podcasts, and I kind of burned out on them. I needed to take some time for myself,” Liles explains. “That’s when I found myself listening to more and more humanities, storytelling, and history. That’s when I got this idea together.” 

Liles had a vision: a single-voiced, little-known history story, one with a moral that didn’t have to be spoon fed to the audience. That “hollows” angle intrigued Liles. 

“Given where we are in the world, I’m really interested in the history we intentionally mislead ourselves on,” he says. “I just thought there was a real opportunity, and maybe even coming from the voice of a Southerner to, you know, own up to a lot of this stuff. I think we’re really conflicted as Southerners in a lot of ways because everyone needs lore, family lore, regional lore.

“When it’s conflicted like that, it’s hard to separate ‘how can I love old grandpappy but find the history of my entire surroundings an abomination?'”

Southern Hollows is now four episodes into its first 12-episode season, with each episode averaging about 1,000 downloads. Liles had hoped to release episodes every other week, but stuff (like straight-line winds) got in the way. He was also worried that he wouldn’t have enough ideas for season two, but his notepad is filled. — Susan Ellis

www.southernhollows.com

BLACK NERD POWER
Richard Douglas Jones is one of the funniest people in Memphis. He’s the new host of the P&H Cafe’s popular Thursday night open mic, and Patton Oswalt has personally asked him to be his opening act twice.

Jones is also the creator and co-host of the Black Nerd Power (BNP) podcast, and its corollary stand-up showcase the Black Nerd Power Comedy Hour. Both were developed, in part, as a response to the isolation he felt as an African-American comedian and media consumer who wasn’t all that into the Def Comedy Jam model. He liked comic books, and science fiction, and animation, and video games, and — you know — nerd stuff.  

“You can be a nerd about anything,” Jones says, and BNP proves it by addressing obvious topics like superheroes, less obvious topics like romance novels, and completely unexpected topics like office supplies. “People completely nerd-out over office supplies,” he says before nerding out over his favorite office supplies. “You get people talking about pens, and pencils, and stationary, and you can just see their nips protruding through their shirts.”

While touring America as a comic, Jones came to feel less alone, finding more folks like himself. Within their home comedy scenes, they were what Jones described as “the only Klingons on the Enterprise.” So Black Nerd Power became like a very funny message in a bottle — written in Klingon. Its theme: “You are not alone.”

“My plan right now is to evolve the podcast into a live show,” says Jones, whose guests have included comedians like Paul Mooney, David Alan Greer, and John Witherspoon.

On the nerd front, Jones takes a controversial position on Wonder Woman, giving the film two thumbs down and describing it as “Captain America set during WWI.” He’s excited about Spider-Man: Homecoming and Black Panther. He wants others who thought Aisha Hinds was sexy in her performance as Harriet Tubman on the TV series Underground to know it’s okay to feel that way. 

“Harriet was a powerful woman,” he says. “And power is sexy.” 

Black Nerd Power has broadcast 140 episodes. They are all archived and available at the OAM network. — Chris Davis

www.theoamnetwork.com/bnp

NEIGHBORHOOD CONNECT
“It’s going to be the bomb-diggity.” 

That’s a phrase you’ll often hear from Joyce Cox, co-host of the Neighborhood Connect podcast from the city of Memphis’ Department of Housing and Community Development (HCD).

Cox, HCD’s manager of communication and civic engagement, hosts the show along with HCD director Paul Young. He says the show is designed to create a platform for the city to communicate happenings and efforts made in various neighborhoods, as well as be a medium for members of the community to talk about the initiatives, opportunities, and obstacles in their neighborhoods.

“We [HCD] want to continue to be involved in larger projects, but our focus is on neighborhoods,” Young says. “The lifeblood of the city comes from the neighborhoods, and we want to elevate things happening in them.”

There have been six episodes of the podcast to date, with topics ranging from urban art to home ownership to removing blight to more complicated topics, including how HCD is funded. 

“We give insight to different things in different ways,” Young says. “It’s a lot easier when you are listening to someone explain something.”

The show has had around 4,500 downloads since its inception last November. Although listeners tripled in the spring, Young says one of the biggest challenges in getting more listeners so far is the podcast’s irregular schedule.

Over the next month, Young says the goal is to “freshen up” the podcast and increase listener rates. One way he plans to do this is by incorporating and engaging more youth with topics ranging from struggles common among young people to opportunities for youth and crime rates in their generation.

“Most neighborhood leaders aren’t young people,” Young says. “So we want to give the youth a space that allows them to have their voices heard.”  — Maya Smith
Neighborhood Connect can be found on iTunes or Stitches.

Justin Fox Burks

Sonosphere

SONOSPHERE
Amy Schaftlein, who produces the Sonsphere podcast with Christopher Williams and engineer Zach Losher, attributes the current boom in podcasting to its ease of use. 

“The medium is just so convenient,” Schaftlein says. “It’s like the DVR of radio. You can put it on your list, and if you are about to go on a long car ride or a long walk or something, you can just put it on.” 

Sonsophere is “an exploration of sound in music and art movements through history.” Williams saw the word in the book Sound in the Margins and thought it was perfect for the show.

“It encompasses our tagline,” Williams says. “The ‘sounds all around you.'”

Schaftlein and Williams began Sonosphere in August 2015, with a show about Detroit-based industrial noise band Wolf Eyes but quickly found themselves headed down a research rabbit hole. 

“I approached the podcast from a place of curiosity,” Schaftlein says. “How did we get from classical music to electronic noise?”

Even though the abstract music covered by Sonsosphere isn’t burning up the charts, these musicians’ theories and experiments have had a lasting impact on hip-hop, rock, and EDM. Much of the podcast’s audience is listening in Europe, such as the Vienna experimental music collective, which recently sent thanks for inspiration. 

“Most of the podcasts in Memphis are Memphis-specific,” says Losher. “I like this, because is it Memphis-based but it has international appeal.” — Chris McCoy

www.sonospherepodcast.com

You Like Hoops?

YOU LIKE HOOPS?
Chase Lucas hosts a podcast that is ostensibly about sports but is really about life, Memphis, and what it means to be a fan of something. 

You Like Hoops? is available on the GBB Live feed, the podcast of Grizzlies blog Grizzly Bear Blues. Since launching the show in February (full disclosure: I was a guest on episode 4), Lucas has taken the conversational format of many podcasts and applied it to a field more driven by talking about stats and scores.

What makes You Like Hoops? such a breath of fresh air in the sports vertical (where everyone has a hot take about everything usually just for the sake of having an opinion) is that its roots aren’t really in sports media at all, but other shows Lucas enjoyed.

You Made it Weird with Pete Holmes is a wide-ranging, in-depth conversation where you come away feeling like you really know the guest,” Lucas says. And it’s not just the format, but the method of production as well: “[Holmes] always records in-person, which I attempt to do whenever possible.” 

Because Lucas has done the same, the format lends itself to an intimacy in the conversation that isn’t the norm among sportswriters. There’s no sense of the hosts and guests as personae — they’re just people talking.

NBA culture is an odd, precious thing. It’s maybe the only community left on Twitter that’s still driven by enthusiasts watching and discussing something they enjoy as it happens. 

“I wanted to try a spin on that but within this crazy basketball culture that exists so far outside of what happens during the actual games,” Lucas says. — Kevin Lipe

www.grizzlybearblues.com/you-like-hoops-podcast

Michael Donahue

Dinner With the King

DINNER WITH THE KING
Hosting his podcast, Dinner with the King, each Wednesday on Pod Avenue is a natural for Jerry “The King” Lawler. 

He wanted to be a disc jockey before he decided to become a professional wrestler. In the late ’60s Lawler entered some of his drawings and won second place in a WMPS radio contest. But it was radio announcer, Scott Shannon, who made him want to become a deejay. Lawler was at the awards ceremony at Southland Mall. 

“Scott comes out and he’s got on almost like a white jumpsuit like Elvis,” he says. “It’s open up all the way down. No shirt. He’s got a white scarf around his neck. And he’s got this long, long blonde hair and everything. Like a rock star.

“All the girls went crazy. They started screaming. Right then at that point I said, ‘That’s what I want to be. A radio deejay.'”

Shannon invited Lawler to the station. He asked him to draw weekly Scott Shannon caricatures for the station’s Top 10 records flyer. Lawler told Shannon he’d love to try to be a deejay. Shannon helped Lawler put together a demo tape, and Lawler got a job as a deejay at WMQM.

When he was asked to host a podcast, Lawler said he’d do it as long as he didn’t have to feature guests each week. 

“They said, ‘You don’t need to have a guest,'” Lawler says. “‘Just do it yourself. You just go on and talk every week. Tell about what you’ve done, and tell old stories from Memphis wrestling.'”

Lawler and cohost Glenn Moore have done 16 episodes, which can be found at podavenue.com/king as well as iTunes, Sticher, Google Play and other podcast apps. 

“We are close to 800,000 downloads so far,” he said. — Michael Donahue

www.podavenue.com/king

Categories
Cover Feature News

You Look Like a Cover Story

So a gaggle of comedians from Memphis walk into a bar in Western Arkansas …

No, this isn’t the beginning of a joke. It’s an origin story for Memphis’ most popular monthly, game-based comedy event. You Look Like — so named because the competition’s mean-spirited jokes all begin with the words, “You look like” — recently tickled film and television director Craig Brewer’s funny bone, so now it’s being developed as a streaming digital series.

You Look Like is beginning to look like a comedy institution in the making, but back in the summer of 2015, the embryonic thing that rapidly evolved into You Look Like (YLL), just looked like local funsters Katrina Coleman and Benny Elbows swapping off-the-cuff insults to pass time over a long, boring haul to Fayetteville. Once the other comedians on the evening’s bill were introduced to the concept, they jumped right in and started playing along, too, saying terrible things to each other, such as: “You look like you really believe you’re going to get custody this time,” or “You look like the youth minister who needed a talking to.”

Amanda Walker and Craig Brewer in the bar that inspired Brewer’s The Poor & Hungry

“One time somebody told me I look like Malcolm X-Man,” says Black Nerd Power host Richard Douglas Jones, an early YLL player and convert.

The seminal Arkansas, gig at Nomads Music Lounge (regrettably titled “Memphis in Fay”) started late, in part because the Bluff City comics couldn’t stop playing their fun, new game. When the comedic bloodsport finally broke up, comic and YLL co-founder Tommy Oler grabbed Coleman by the elbow and told her the silly, mean, hilarious thing she’d started needed to grow into something bigger.

“I wasn’t sure. I just thought it was a thing I like to do,” says Coleman. For her, You Look Like was a warm-up exercise — the funny person’s equivalent of a gymnast stretching before a tumbling routine.

Oler took the idea to the P&H Cafe, where he was already hosting a popular Thursday night open mic. The idea was instantly green lit, and it wasn’t long before the eclectic Midtown bar famously associated with poor and hungry artists had to reconfigure its seating to accommodate bigger and bigger crowds turning out for comedy.

“I remember when I’d have 10 or 15 people at one of my shows, and I’d think it was the greatest thing,” Coleman says. “I’d get all excited and call my mom. Now, if there are only 50 or 75 at a show, I wonder if there’s some big concert at Minglewood Hall or something.”

Now, when episodes of the accompanying YLL podcast post late, out-of-town subscribers send grumpy messages. “It’s this really weird show that audiences seem to like and that the comics love to do,” Coleman says, floating a theory: “If you really love somebody, you’ll cut their heart out for a giggle.”

For all the terrible things being said on stage, the love inside the P& H is thick and sticky when, over the course of a week, Brewer and his local production team shoots the entire pilot season for a digital You Look Like series.

“You got robbed,” the winner of one round calls out, chasing down his opponent. “I know. I totally beat you,” the loser shouts back. Nobody’s angry. They’re all in this together.

“I’m not drunk enough to cry,” Coleman announces from the stage as the camera crew prepares to shoot the last five episodes of the 10-episode trial season. “But set your watches.”

Coleman, who certainly looks like the person most responsible for assembling the current big tent of modern Memphis comedy, then gestures to a ridiculous, clearly homemade crown spinning on a turntable just offstage: the winner’s prize.

“It’s still the You Look Like show,” she assures the “studio audience,” acknowledging that, in spite of the many physical upgrades to her show’s homemade aesthetic, “I made that motherfucker in my living room.”

A machine pumps fog into the room, standing in for the P&H’s famously thick cloud of cigarette smoke. Local writer/director Morgan Fox orders the cameras to roll, and the games begin in earnest.

The rules for You Look Like couldn’t be simpler. Two comics stand face to face, trading appearance-based insults: “You look like heroin might improve your life.” Or “You look like the Sorting Hat put you in House of 1,000 Corpses.” Like that. The meaner it gets, the more respect you can feel radiating from the combatants. When a round ends, the audience chooses a winner, and the loser has to gaze into a mirror of shame and play the game over again, solo, hurling insults at him/herself.

Brewer encountered the You Look Like Show while attending the 2016 Memphis Comedy Festival. The Hustle & Flow filmmaker had no idea that such a mature comedy scene had grown up in the artsy little beer joint at the center of his own filmmaker origin story.

For that festival, the show was moved to the Hi-Tone, and Brewer had initially assumed it was put on by a visiting troupe of comics from Chicago.

“I was like, ‘Wow, it’s so great that this touring group came in and did this,'” Brewer says in a phone interview from Los Angeles (where he recently added a new credit to his resume: co-executive producer of the hit show, Empire). Brewer was immediately corrected by fans who told him it was, in fact, a Memphis-based show that had been running for about a year at the P&H.

“Do you know where the P&H is?” someone asked. “Yeah,” Brewer answered. “I think I might know where that is.”

Seeing Brewer at work again inside the P&H causes epic déjà vu. The Madison Avenue bar, with its rotating cast of oddball regulars inspired his first movie, The Poor & Hungry. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, when he was still an aspiring filmmaker and part-time bookstore employee, Brewer would go to the bar to write his screenplays, shoot scenes, or screen daily “rushes” on the P&H’s ancient TV.

Although The Poor & Hungry never received wide theatrical distribution, the award-winning digital feature, shot on an impossibly low budget of $20,000 with a two-man crew, became Brewer’s Hollywood calling card. When other wannabes were slinging pitches, he was mailing out VHS tapes of a little movie about life at the P&H Cafe that arguably helped step up Hollywood’s digital shift.  

“I felt like grandpa,” Brewer says, shocked but not all that surprised by the revelation that he and YLL shared a creative womb.

The following June, two-months after the comedy festival, Coleman received an unexpected voicemail: “Hi, this is Craig Brewer. I make movies. I saw your show and was wondering if you’d maybe like to get together and talk about it.”

Like any any mother faced with sudden, unknown change, Coleman’s initial response was caution. “Please, please, Hollywood, don’t take my ugly baby away,” she pleads emphatically, recounting her initial worry. “But Craig was great. He walked me through the whole contract and explained everything.” All Coleman really needed was assurance that the live show would be always be hers to do with as she sees fit, which had been the plan all along.

“See, the whole live show fits in this little, pink duffle bag,” Coleman says, giggling. As long as she could continue running it out of the P&H and taking it on the road, Coleman says she was up for just about anything else that might happen.

Brewer has always scouted opportunities for exporting Memphis talent and weirdness. In the 1990s, he shot footage of the city’s burlesque scene, resulting in his early short, Clean Up in Booth B. His team-up with MTV on $5 Cover resulted in Midtown’s rock scene playing a semi-fictionalized version of itself.

Unlike earlier projects, where Brewer was starting from scratch, You Look Like was complete and alive. Adapting it as a digital series was additionally enhanced by an all-local crew he’s been collaborating with for a decade and an uncommonly united comedy scene that’s spent the last five years learning to work together.

It’s like what comic Josh McLane says, making his way from the stage to the writers room: “I get paid the same if I win or lose. All that matters is if it’s funny.” That was the dominant attitude backstage during the YLL shoot, giving the whole event an old-school Memphis wrasslin’ vibe. Unlike wrasslin’, outcomes to the matches weren’t predetermined, but the beefs aren’t real, and everybody’s working together to bring serious pain from the top-rope.

“I’m addicted to this feeling now,” Brewer says, remembering the electricity in the room when the comedians hired to write jokes between rounds gathered around the P&H’s pool tables and built their insult database.

Richard Douglas Jones described the writing process as “completely organic.” When one vein of material ran dry, somebody would open another. “I will reinvent the wheel and run you over with it again and again,” he said. Brewer had one big concern. “There needed to be something positive coming out of You Look Like,” he says. “If you were looking at comedians tearing each other apart, you need to feel that they are friends. So, in a weird way, it could be inspiring.”

The backstage cooperation insured that that would be the case. “I left the experience asking, ‘How can I create that again,'” Brewer asks. “Can I go narrative with it? If we did a TV show, what would it be? And what are the jokes?”

That wasn’t the only feeling Brewer left with. He’d drifted away from the P&H after the passing of its colorful proprietress Wanda Wilson, the big-wigged protector of artists, misfits, and backgammon gamblers. “For a while that place lost its energy,” Brewer laments. Working on YLL assured him that the bar’s original spirit is alive and well under the current management.

So what’s next for YLL? The live show continues as usual but now with a new guest host every month. What happens with the pilot series is anybody’s guess, but there are some interesting possibilities: Maybe it gets snapped up right away by a streaming content provider. Or maybe the original series, like The Poor & Hungry, simply becomes a calling card — something Brewer can screen on his phone when he’s pitching ideas. Maybe a producer likes the web series but wants to know if the show can be adapted as a reality show or narrative comedy. “So many times you walk in with a pitch document, and you just don’t know how it’s going to turn out,” Brewer explains. “The network might say, ‘Oh, that’s great, but we want it with Snapchat stars.'”

YLL was a perfect catch for Brewer, who’d been actively looking for right-sized projects for his Memphis-based company BR2 and longtime collaborators like David Harris at Gunpowder & Sky, a production company co-founded by Van Toffler, a former MTV executive instrumental in purchasing Brewer’s Hustle & Flow at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival. He sums up YLL‘s appeal — particularly for companies looking for unscripted material — in one exclamatory sentence: “Oh my God, you can highlight 20 comedians per season, and it’s already a living thing!”

Brewer thinks a few scenarios seem more likely than others. “These days, there are celebrities who want their Facebook page — or whatever — to be a channel. So there are comedians and celebrities who might buy it just to put on their channel,” he explained.

“And there are networks who might say, ‘Okay, this works on the digital level; what does this look like on the network level?’ But what I really wish is that we can take what we’ve made and just keep making more of that. We just made 10 episodes this first time, but if we do it again, we can make 50. Just plan for three or four solid weeks of work, where we just go in and bang it out.”

Oler, who no longer hosts the live show but remains affiliated with the digital project, says it’s exciting to imagine what YLL might be like as a movie or a sitcom. But he can’t shake the joy of knowing, wherever it goes, it started with a bunch of knuckleheads insulting each other on the patio at Nomads Music Lounge in Fayetteville.

“I’m just really thankful to have had a chance to work on this,” he says. Oler and Coleman are funny co-founders; they don’t agree about much. But they do agree that, given an opportunity to show its stuff, the Memphis comedy scene stood up.  

The You Look Like Show is the third Saturday of every month at the P&H Cafe. Doors at 8 p.m. show at 9 p.m.

You Look Like a List

What comprises a perfect you look like insult? It has to walk a fine line between credibility and the absurd. Some require context, some are just funny no matter who they’re aimed at. Here’s a completely subjective list of great You Look Like lines.

You look like:

You support displaying the Confederate flag, but only because you don’t have any other good towels.

You masturbate with ranch dressing.

People who look like their dogs.

The most well adjusted person here, surgically.

One more sandwich and that shirt’s over.

You ask to speak to managers.

You regularly delete your search history.

Your head mole makes all your decisions.

You think the Dakota Access Pipeline is a porn trilogy.

The target audience for Buzzfeed articles.

You pronounce the L in Salmon.

You grew up outside a trailer.

Your spirit animal is a chain wallet.

You fucked up the proposal because you left the ring in your other cargo shorts.

You don’t mind talking to people while they’re using the bathroom.

You broke someone else’s ankle auditioning for Grease.

You were designed by scientists for the purpose of disappointing women.

Birdwatching makes you horny.

Group photos are always your idea.

Your husband hides your yoga pants.

The side bitch of Frankenstein.

God swiped left.

The guy other guys are totally okay letting their girlfriends hang out with.

You’re still waiting to hear back about that job.

Your dad is more proud of his other family.