SNL writer isn’t afraid to make audiences laugh … and squirm

Calling from a North Carolina airport in a voice just above a whisper, Maddie Wiener sounds more like a thoughtful friend than a comedian whose act includes jokes about sex, depression, body image and questionable behaviour.

Beneath the soft-spoken delivery is a comedian who delights in making audiences squirm.

Whether onstage, in the writers’ room at Saturday Night Live or behind the microphone as co-host of the We’re Having Gay Sex podcast, Wiener has built a following by taking audiences to uncomfortable places and finding the laughs in what most people would rather leave unsaid.

“I do love a laugh that’s also a groan. Like, ‘Oh, I didn’t want to laugh at that, but that got me.’ That’s kind of my favourite button to push,” says Wiener, who makes her Rumor’s Comedy Club debut from today to Saturday.

She isn’t interested in easy punchlines. Much of her material starts with questions she’s asking herself, awkward truths she’d rather not admit, or thoughts most people would rather not expose for all to see — or laugh at.

“When it’s something where you’re like, ‘Oh, I actually am embarrassed to admit that,’ there’s usually something really funny on the other side of it,” she says.

That sort of self-examination runs through almost everything she talks about. During a conversation that bounces from free speech and comedy to Alzheimer’s, sexism and pet rabbits, Wiener seems to genuinely enjoy pulling apart ideas to see what makes things tick.

“I like thinking about stuff,” she says. “Human consciousness is this thing that happened to me.”

It’s not exactly the answer you’d expect from someone who spends her nights offering up self-deprecation as a means to make strangers laugh.

Growing up, Wiener wasn’t the class clown. She describes herself as a straight-A student, a teacher’s pet and a dedicated rule-follower.

Then she discovered standup at 16.

“I thought it was the greatest thing ever.”

Part of that attraction, she says, came from finally finding a place where talking too much was encouraged. She credits her father with helping shape the way she sees the world. He encouraged her to question authority and challenge assumptions rather than simply accept them.

“It wasn’t disrespectful to question authority,” she says. “I think it’s made me an adult who values questioning things.”

That instinct shows up everywhere in her comedy. Rather than telling long personal stories, Wiener says she’s more interested in exploring ideas and observations, which can sometimes come from difficult places.

Part of her current set focuses on her father’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, a topic she discusses with his permission.

“It’s obviously been a hard experience,” she says. “But we’ve been laughing a lot about it.”

She recalls an older comic telling younger performers there are no bad experiences in comedy because anything can become material.

“The worst thing in your life can happen and you’re like, ‘Well, I have this other thing that I can turn it into,’” she says. “It’s a really fun way to metabolize the world.”

Wiener is also candid about being a woman in standup. She says audience members have told her they expected less from her onstage.

“’You were actually really funny,’” she recalls being told. “I don’t think that’s a compliment. I mean, I’m glad I could win you over.”

At Rumor’s, she promises a mix of material ranging from pet rabbits to depression and suicide. The combination can sound jarring on paper, but the goal isn’t shock value.

“You can expect dark, you can expect weird,” she says. “But hopefully in a way that brings everyone on board.”

fparts@freepress.mb.ca