JUST FOR LAUGHS
Ottawa comedian has audience rolling in the aisles at Montreal Fest

By Denis Grignon

It's a brass ring that sways above every standup comic's career. In most cases, mine included, its grasp is no nearer than the host chair of the Tonight Show.

So my professional jealousy was a given, then, knowing that Jeremy Hotz has clutched that ring in Montreal's Club Soda. The Ottawa native who made his standup début in the nation's capital, was one of the chosen performers at the Just For Laughs comedy festival.

It's the most prestigious event of its kind in the world. Each year, thousands audition, a few dozen make the cut.

Still, it's a pinnacle that comes with a price.

The performing angst, which only the festival can promise, dominated Hotz.

"You walk around here and your palms are sweaty all day." He says about the city that becomes comedy mecca for 10 days in July.

There were months of preparation including the painstaking process of picking seven minutes of jibes from hours of material and performing it on any available stage.

The festival, a shopping centre for industry decision- makers, can hand out stardom as though it were a business card. Conversely, a bad set can embarrass and impede any shot of fame.

"I try not to think of the impending doom," said Hotz, who took long walks to psych himself up. " I feel that the more you think about it, the worse off you're going to be."

The nervousness contradicts Hotz's track record. Less than four years into his career he was one of the top draws in the country.

At 28, he shared the festival billing with acts many years his senior, including Ottawa funny men Mike MacDonald and Norm MacDonald. A few months ago, he taped his first segment for an MTV comedy special.

He was also unfazed about sharing the spotlight with ­and being compared to the best of the best: "I've been chosen because I'm just as good and I belong with that ilk... I just have to really believe it now."

Huge Crowd

A guest spot at an intimate Montreal comedy club proved others did believe it.

In standup parlance, Hotz "killed" at the Comedy Works - rousing an applause the other acts couldn't match.

The festival show commanded a massive crowd, and the biggest audience he had ever performed for was 900 (and only once) Still, Hotz was unmoved. "I figure the only difference between 900 and 3000 is 2100."

Such cockiness is understandable. On the club circuit, Hotz kills more often than not.

And in an artform that today strives too often to shock with the offensive, or condescend with pretentious hipness, Hotz is unique to any size crowd.

There's no social or political agenda in his act. " I miss being a kid," is the cornerstone of his routine ­ a humourous telling of Saturday morning cartoons, board games, Halloween candy and superheroes . It's a clever blend of deadpan confidence and youthful innocence that endears itself to any audience: "My stage character is an extension of my true self."

Raised in Ottawa, Hotz said he was destined for the stage when his parents enrolled him in a Hebrew/English grade school-what he describes as the perfect apprenticeship for class clown." "It was a very small group of kids coming back year after year," recounts Hotz, who lives in Toronto and returns to Ottawa regularly to visit his family. " And I became known very quickly as the funniest guy."

This night though, a funny personal history will mean little to the discerning crowd at the Club Soda. His manager, Ann Campesi, mocks and challenges any potential cynicism by handing out "Who the Hell is Jeremy Hotz" buttons, Host Lorne Elliot introduces Hotz as the first guest, a spot most comics dread.

Timing is Key

Within a half-minute or so, Hotz is king of the mountain. His timing - likely his strongest artistic asset - is commanding no less than six applause breaks.

"...and the worst guy, the Friendly Giant, what was his problem?" Hotz asks his jury. "He kept a rooster nailed in a bag..."

There's another pause, a few more joke tag-lines, and Hotz walks off to cheers that challenge the "first is worst" comedian adage.

A subsequent spot later that week at the festival's Theatre St-Denis gala show bolsters his standing.

If Hotz impresses his other audience-from talk-show producers to movie casting agents, that brass ring gleams even brighter.

The aftermath of career offers is important, concedes Hotz: "You have to stay hungry. And so far, things have progressed rather rapidly for me..."

"The worst thing in comedy is having nothing to look forward to."

And how does he go looking for it? "You don't really." Pausing-after all, timing is everything ­ he concludes, "It just kind of happens."