Dane Cook is a rock star

Woody Allen once opined that 90 percent of life is just showing up, which is certainly true as far as it goes. But how far you'll go comes down to that last 10 percent, which largely consists of moxie, self-confidence and nerve. All of which Dane Cook has in spades.

Cook just knows he's gonna make you laugh; and if he doesn't, well, that's your problem. Which is why he's headlining arenas and you're not. Love him or hate him (he's got legions of fans as well as detractors), he's huger than huge right now.

We caught up with Cook for a chat to preview his Sunday performance at Raleigh's RBC Center.

Q: How are you? I'm fantastic! I'm coming up on my 20th year of comedy, and I really feel like the heavyweight champion of the world. I think I've never been better or sharper, or felt closer to the fans. I wanted to do a massive tour and meet a lot of the people who've sent e-mails that started, "I know you'll never come here, but ..." So I'm having a blast; that's my fully locked-and-loaded answer.

Q: How much new versus old material are you doing this go-around? The 2007 "Rough Around the Edges" tour was kind of the greatest hits - stuff that fans never got to hear live, or only the edited version on Comedy Central or Letterman. So coming into this, I got a whole new hour-plus together. I'd turned a corner in my life and my career, taking on some stuff that was a bit different and not derivative from what people may have known about me from 10 years ago. At this stage of the tour, OK, I can do the new special. But I've also got a great new 20 minutes I've cultivated over the last few months. It's almost too much, trying to get a lot into a short amount of time.

Q: Your parents both died of cancer nine months apart in 2006 and 2007. Do you talk about that in the show? Yeah, I try to put the George-and-Donna stuff in anywhere I can. I feel good talking about Mom and Dad. They were big comedy fans and very funny people, encouraging in polar-opposite ways. They were absolutely my hammer and my shield, the way they protected me and also kicked my ass right out of the nest and into the path of going for my dreams. They were the perfect blend of what you'd want your folks to be, disciplinarians but also dreamers.

So it feels right to give them that shout-out. I lost them while I was hitting the first serious pinnacle of the beautiful comedy-tragedy roller coaster any entertainer goes through. I was hitting the top of the big hill, good times, while this personal trauma was happening. But what people don't realize is how much I laughed with them during that time. They had a way of taking the darkest moments and making them funny, which they did my whole life. So it continues through them passing away. I told them things I'd talk about, moments I was going to share with audiences, which would bring a smile to their face.

Q: Where do you draw the line over what's too personal to use? I don't! But where I draw that line is in deciding how much further something goes beyond those initial club sets no one ever sees - in the lab, as I like to call it. I've said everything onstage, mean-spirited and horrible things. I've been aloof, obtuse, awkward, gory, graphic, aired everything out. I don't edit or question it; I just get onstage and talk. I improvise and try to be spontaneous, with varying degrees of success and failure. Where the editing comes in is looking at it afterward to ask, "What's entertaining?" I want to put on an event people will remember 20 years from now. I don't want to be maudlin, the megamix dramatic version; I want to get down to the things that deserve their moment onstage. Now if you saw hidden-camera cell-phone footage of some of those old club sets, you'd probably say, "Good choice, cutting that from the final product."

Q: How do you vary your approach between performing in a big arena versus a small club? When you step in front of an arena crowd, it's an event. Your shoulders are not slumped. It's something you build up to; there is no 90 percent. It comes from years of grinding away, hoping, fingers-crossed dreams that it will take you there. So you're on the mound trying to throw strikes every single pitch, just nail it.

Yet I never wanted to be a "character." I learned that from years of watching Dice Clay and Steve Martin - a big influence. I wanted to be where the on-switch between who I am 10 minutes before versus who I am onstage didn't take much effort; so it didn't have to be, "Sigh ... Well, here we go." I didn't want to have to fake it till I make it. I had to figure out how to be "on" but also be Dane Cook.

So when you see that footage of me backstage 10 minutes before going on, that's very authentic, although there's a slight adjustment from the guy eating grilled chicken and asparagus in the dressing room to the guy who hits the stage. But I never put my head on the pillow going, "Oh, God, I'm still trying to be the same guy I was when I was 24!"

Q: Will you always do standup? This whole year has been replanting the comedy flag and letting fans know I'm not trying to be a movie star or disappear into that world. Standup is as glamorous and important to me now as when I first did it in 1990. I'm trying to hit every nook and cranny around the world - looking at South Africa, my first U.K. gigs, going back to Australia. I hope to go around the world in 2010, dancin' with who I brung.

Looking at what I've accomplished, I did it, man. I did everything I set out to do, then I did it again. Then I did it one more time. I am kind of champing at the bit to create some new ways of doing this. And I'm not saying I'm retiring, but I'm going to put the comedy mike down for a bit and live a different kind of life for a while after this. I know I'll come back. But I implore you: If you've ever wanted to see me live, now might be the time to catch it.

Latest Comment View all comments

Images