An interview I did In E-town AB with Olivia Cheng.

 
Punk'd vet hones chops at WEM: Ashton-endorsed homeboy rocks the mic before Comic Strip crowd

Edmonton Journal
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Page: C1 / FRONT
Section: Culture
By-line: Olivia Cheng
Dateline: EDMONTON
Source: Freelance

EDMONTON - What does it take to make it in Hollywood these days?

If you're Mill Woods-reared comedian Rob Pue, and you have three minutes to devise an impromptu audition for the producers of MTV's hit show Punk'd, it takes acting like a freaking lunatic.

For the audition, Pue pretended to be a deranged fan desperate to meet Punk'd host Ashton Kutcher.

"I went into an office and I shut the door and I locked it," he laughs. "I put myself in a chair, wrapped my arms and my legs around it, and started yelling, 'I'm not coming out!'"

Security didn't realize producers were testing Pue's practical joke chops and they threw him out. The indignity was worth it; what happened next was the Hollywood dream: "The producer called me on my cell phone and said that I had the job."

The self-described "drama geek" and J. Percy Page grad has since played elaborate tricks on Hollywood A-listers like Julia Stiles, Matthew Perry and rap star Eve. As a cast member of the show's third season, Pue quickly learned that "nothing ever happens the way you think it's going to happen."

But that's a lesson he learned eight years ago when he debuted on Edmonton's stand-up comedy circuit, to which he returns tonight and Boxing Day at the Comic Strip on WEM's Bourbon Street.

"I blanked out on all my jokes," he says, cringing at the memory. "It was horrible. It was the worst feeling ever but you can't do anything but go up from there."

Go up he did, and Pue's relentless persistence in honing his funny business paid off last October when he beat out hundreds of competitors to earn bragging rights and $5,000 in prize money at the San Francisco Comedy Competition. His winning act landed him a spot in HBO's Aspen Comedy Festival and, shortly after, Los Angeles casting directors sent him to MTV for his fateful audition.

Of the 18 jokes he's since played for Punk'd, his favourite involves starlet Jennifer Love Hewitt. Pue at first poses as a director promising her a role in a movie with Brad Pitt, but the schmooze session takes a turn for the worse when Pue confides he's lost $20,000 betting on the Super Bowl and begs Hewitt for money.

"Then my bookies show up to collect the debt, and they effectively scare the crap out of her," he says. "She ends up calling Jackie Chan's bodyguard for help.

"You know, I got her to agree to go out on a date with me and they didn't air it!"

Pue gets serious, though, when he's asked about future endeavours. He pulls a plastic punch card out of his wallet and explains it's the key to his room at the L.A. hostel where he's been living for the last year. The message is clear: His struggles as an aspiring comic are far from over.

"The only difference between me and homeless people is that my friends have couches," he says.

Yet he's determined to head back to L.A. after the holidays, where he'll gear up for pilot season, work a number of comedy gigs and do a screen test for a feature film.

"Comedy's in my blood now," he shrugs.

 

San Francisco Comedy Competition 2003

Youthful Rob Pue, a 25-year-old from Edmonton, has become the second Canadian in a row to take the coveted crown of the San Francisco INTERNATIONAL Stand-Up Comedy Competition. He did so by displaying the type of undeniable charisma perhaps not seen in the event since Robin Williams was a contestant. But where Williams is the essence of hyper activity, Pue is cool and relaxed as he delivers routines on such subjects as how he would win "Survivors," the drawbacks of picking up dates in bars and the plight of his country's military. It wasn't so much his material as the way Pue acted out his bits and highlighted them with excellent sound effects that won approval. He had to be on the top of his game to beat back a strong challenge from hometown favourite Joe Klocek, a self-proclaimed "34-year-old trapped in the body of a 12-year-old Nazi." Klocek found humour in thoughtful, topical material about American bombing practices in Iraq. He was quick enough to successfully enlighten audiences about the downfalls of political correctness, even in such liberal hotbeds as Berkeley and Santa Cruz. And when he placed first at the penultimate final round show at the Fox Theatre in Redwood City, it was "Here comes Seabiscuit!" Pue had to place first at the final performance to hold Klocek at bay.

Third place finisher Darryl Lenox, as a seasoned pro and past finalist in the Comedy Competition, came in as the man to beat and the one the other contestants measured their acts against. Too proud to bring any attention to his impaired sight, Lenox may have suffered a bit in the eyes of judges when he did not use the stage to the fullest extent. Nonetheless, his philosophical, "can't we all just get along" attitude was inspiring and his Morgan Freeman impression a classic.   Lamont Ferguson from San Diego turned a lot of heads with his fourth place finish. He went to great pains to let audiences know he was distinguished from his fellow competitors, even entering the stage from a different direction at each venue. Ferguson made it clear he had some miles on his tires and as such looked at the world differently than his younger colleagues. His message connected with many a grouch in the audience. Rob Little from Detroit came in fifth but contended for the title right up to the end. Unfortunately, he showed the strain during his last couple performances when it became clear he would not take the crown. A "person of size," Little was like a human cartoon as he acted out routines about his dysfunctional family. Constantly moving and giggling, he rounded out a field that was one of the most dynamic ever. The finalists maintained a high level of camaraderie even though they were competing against each other for $20,000 in prize money. Their professionalism speaks well for the future of their unique art form.   -- Jon Fox