This week, we’re highlighting 25 talented writers and performers for Vulture’s annual list “The Comedians You Should and Will Know.” Our goal is to introduce a wider audience to the talent that has the comedy community and industry buzzing. (You can read more about our methodology at the link above.) We asked the comedians on the list to answer a series of questions about their work, performing, goals for the future, and more. Next up is Sabrina Wu.
Tell us a story from your childhood you think explains why you ended up becoming a comedian.
When I was growing up, my parents would often get together with other Chinese parents on Saturday nights to have a big potluck and play poker. The kids would be forced to tag along and hang out. There was one night where me and three other kids didn’t know what to do while our parents gambled upstairs, so we decided to scroll through Netflix and we stumbled on the special Hot and Fluffy by Gabriel Iglesias.
We were all so giggly after watching the special, I thought I would tell my own “funny” story. I went into graphic detail about the time I first put in a tampon. The big reveal is that instead of inserting my tampon into the correct hole, I actually didn’t stick it up any hole. I was sliding a tampon in between my butt cheeks for a whole week. For the cultured readers of Vulture magazine: It was like my tampon titty-fucked my asshole. When I finished, one of the kids told me he thought I was just as funny as Gabriel Iglesias and should totally do stand-up. So I guess that’s why I became a comic. A man told me to. This is also why my stand-up is so famously similar to Gabriel Iglesias’s. In fact, before every performance, I ask myself: What would Fluffy do?
What unscripted or reality series do you think you’d excel at? What archetype do you think you’d be?
Dancing With the Stars. I still watch YouTube dance tutorials to this day in case I ever find myself in a dance circle. My archetype: strong guy who cannot move his hips in a fluid fashion because he has not properly embraced his feminine side.
What’s your proudest achievement of your comedy career so far?
I’m really proud to be a part of the movie Joy Ride. It is a huge feat for a feature film with a primarily Asian American cast and creative team to get a wide theatrical release. This film could only get that far because it is so genuinely funny and bold.
I feel lucky the creative team took a chance on me. I was a total nobody and this was a studio film. And I feel proud that I pushed myself so hard during the audition process despite that fact. I did over 100 takes when I sent in my initial self-tape. I had no previous professional acting experience — no following on social media — but I still let myself really want it. And it was so worth it.
Recently, I went to see a movie at Alamo Drafthouse in Brooklyn. There was a bin in the theater lobby that had “FREE. PLEASE TAKE” written across the front. It was a junk bin full of items the theater wanted to dispose of. There was a giant poster rolled up inside. I unfurled it, and it was literally a massive picture of my face. A Joy Ride character poster of Deadeye, whom I play.
What have you learned about your own joke-writing process that you didn’t know when you started?
Disclaimer: My answer might be about style more than the joke-writing process. I realized that I kind of hate “jokes.” Puns give me a headache, and misdirects make me feel hollow inside. And I especially hate when a comedian uses a hot-button issue like trans rights or abortion as a cheap setup for some stupid take that I know they don’t actually believe in, but they tell the joke anyway just because they think it could get a laugh. “Abortion is actually just like pooping because …” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
I prefer watching comedians who are giving me their honest take on things. I think it’s so rewarding to watch a comedian who is really giving part of themself to you. When I was just starting out, I spent a lot more time with pen and paper trying to force out setup and punchline. These days, I generate a lot of material through gossiping and ranting with my close friends. I feel like the stuff I care about enough to talk about offstage tends to make more compelling material onstage.
Tell us everything about your worst show ever. (This can involve venue, audience, other comedians on the lineup, anything!)
I’ve actually never bombed.
Let’s say we live in a “Kings of Catchphrase Comedy” alternate dimension where every single comedian is required to have a hit catchphrase. What’s yours and why?
“U-S-A!” I don’t think it helps to explain this one.
Nominate one comedian you don’t know personally you think is overdue for wider recognition and why you’re a fan of their work.
I am a massive fan of Francesca D’uva. Her comedy is unpredictable, and her presence onstage is warm, captivating, and one of a kind. I saw her solo show last year at Abrons Art Center and it remains my favorite performance of any comic … ever? It was so smart, honest, novel, and deeply affecting, and I don’t know how Francesca did that while still being one of the most self-deprecating and least self-serious performers I’ve ever seen. Love.
When it comes to your comedy opinions — about material, performing, audience, trends you want to kill/revive, the industry, etc. — what hill will you die on?
Crowd work is cool and impressive. I know that viral TikToks have made it not cool, but I’m still in awe of anyone who can be flexible and quick onstage.
If you had to come onstage to just one song for the rest of your life, what song would it be and why?
“Townie” by Mitski, because it’s what I’ve listened to before every good show I’ve had. Honestly, the sadder and/or angstier the song I hear, the better I do. I’m too anxious to listen to a “pump-up” song that might fill me with even more adrenaline. Any song that reminds me that life is full of pain and disappointment is the perfect downer I need to take the edge off. I imagine it’s what mixing ketamine with coke is like? Vulture readers … Is this resonating with you?
What is the best comedy advice, and then the worst comedy advice, you’ve ever received, either when you were starting out or more recently?
Best: “You should try stand-up in Brooklyn, since you’re gay.”
Worst: “You should do comedy in Boston, Massachusetts, for ten years before moving to New York City.”
