by James C. Martin

A caricature of New York comedian Todd Barry would most likely involve a giant forehead, squinting eyes and a pile of empty coffee cups.

On stage, Barry seemed at once weary and intense. He projected a mixture of hostility and a desire to entertain himself that reminds one of the early Dennis Miller.

Barry’s improvisation, in fact, showed respect for the audience.

Many comedians perform the same act every night, but Barry asked the audience questions and reacted to heckling with spontaneity and freshness.

His most brilliant moment of the night came when he planned to play a practical joke on a woman who had left for the bathroom.

When the woman returned, someone yelled out, “There she is!”  Quickly forgoing his joke, Barry paused and said, “In the future, if a comedian is trying to play a joke on someone, when she comes back in the room, don’t yell, ‘There she is!’”

The down side of his improvisation was that the end of his set seemed to peter out rather than to climax.

Someone should tell him that hearing a comic curse is no longer shocking. Barry swore so much throughout the night that started to weigh down on the bits.

It could be that life on the road is a bubble. Too many of Barry’s pop culture references were dated, such as the one on Sisqo’s episode of “Cribs.”

A reference to satellite radio, however, was up-to-the-minute.

And taken on a whole, Barry’s material was consistently terrific. But what truly made his act was his attitude toward the audience.

His mind was spinning bare and uncensored, at one moment sexually hungry, when asking women about their tattoos, the next, disdainful when criticizing those who boo any college they did not attend. Barry kept me uncomfortable, but riveted nearly all night.

Rusty Ward, also from New York City, preceded Barry. His young and eager demeanor contrasted well with his turns into dirty material.  Though some of the drama of those turns was undermined by following a first opener who swore more than he did, Ward’s act was satisfying and well-paced. Many of his excellent jokes can be read on his blog, rustyward.com.

Peter Dutton, the host his own comedy show every Friday night at Jimmy Tingle’s, was the first opener.

He had heavy sideburns and mussed hair and delivered his jokes in a slow, stoned voice with long pauses between them.

Though he made many jokes about pot, he seemed more in the influence of Steven Wright.
Dutton, who writes for “Steve Sweeney’s Neighborhood” on WZLX, made many clever jokes about musicians and was a strong beginning to a fine night of comedy.