Videotape doesn't lie. Just ask Rick Perry. I hate to videotape my shows; it looks pretentious, it's painful to watch afterwards and there's a third reason which I can't recall. Oops!
Videotape taught me an invaluable lesson, though. For my entire life, I've been told I walk too fast and I talk too fast. My assistant at work dubbed me Speedy. I forced myself to tape a recent show which, it turns out, was not that well received. I privately blamed the lighting, the audience, the day of the week, the month, the year and my mother for giving me life. When I went home and watched the videotape, I had an epiphany --I was talking a mile a minute and not giving the audience a chance to react before bolting into the next joke. So, I tried an experiment the next time I performed; I spoke in what seemed to me to be slow motion and which, in reality, was the way that normal people communicate with each other. I also took some time to let the audience react before moving on. It worked wonders for the next show and I was glad that I forced myself to tape the previous one. Still, there's no use kidding myself. The positive result of any change to one's approach is ephemeral because comedy is like a golf swing: just when you think you've got it down pat, it eludes you and you throw your club in the nearest water hazard. Worse yet, the videocamera, bless its heartless soul, is useless once it hits the drink and there's no man in silly pants to fish it out.
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