COMEDY REVIEW : The Parts of Larry Wilmore’s Act Add Up to a Very Funny Whole

Larry Wilmore’s act is the comedy equivalent of adding two and two--and getting five. In developing a certain bit, Wilmore often strings together jokes that individually may not be particularly strong but cumulatively yield a strong piece--and a big laugh.

He’s also an enormously animated comic whose breezy manner of verbally punctuating certain bits (his acting work includes appearances on ABC-TV’s detective-spoof “Sledgehammer”) also tends to boost their impact a notch or three.

A strong case in point came early in Wilmore’s performance Wednesday at the Laff Stop in Newport Beach and also provided an example of the way he can juxtapose seemingly unrelated jokes for some bonus humor. He segued from some material on sounds into noting that dogs make a certain face when they hear an unfamiliar sound. Then he did that face.

OK, semi-original and semi-funny. But then he inserted the premise that Ronald Reagan displays a similar reaction when he hears something unfamiliar, except that Ronnie also stops shaking his head. Then Wilmore eased into a visual impression of Reagan, his noggin wobbling wildly--but stopping instantly upon hearing the phrase “compassion for the poor.”

From there, Wilmore, who is black (and who spins some unconventional humor off that theme, especially tied to being a light-skinned black) moved right into one of his longstanding, best bits: the commercial for “Black Away,” which begins with Wilmore as a jive-talking pitchman (“Say brothers, are you tired of white people making fun of you whenever you tawk,”) and goes on to detail the various drawbacks of sounding black.

The solution: Black Away. “One or two drops on your tongue . . . takes the black right out of your voice.” After demonstrating how to apply the product, Wilmore continued the pitch--but suddenly his voice was very deep, very smooth and very white: “Yes, revolutionary new Black Away . . . removes even the most stubborn colloquial slang and leaves behind clean, articulate WASP intonations. . . .”

With the one-two punch of the Reagan/canine connection and the Black Away commercial, Wilmore had an already enthusiastic crowd firmly in his pocket. Good thing too, because that offset the problem that his material rarely reflects a strong, firmly grounded point of view, and his observations rarely carry enough insight or poignancy to have much effect on your point of view.

He is really more intent on coming up with amusing, entertaining stuff--including a lot of TV references--than going after big game with sharp, well-aimed barbs. On the subject of that annoying guy who does the TV ads for Energizer batteries, he said, “Not only is this commercial obnoxious, but who would have thought that after only a couple of years Mary Lou Retton would look that bad.”

He shared other qualms about advertising, including the frequent abuse of language (“Isn’t this redundant: ‘Raid: Kills bugs--dead.’ ”) and threw some neat curve balls. (In a segment discussing animals’ supposed ability to predict disasters, Wilmore recalled that last October, a few days before the market crashed, his dog was saying “Sell, sell, sell!”)

Wilmore occasionally veered into political territory and, though he seemed reluctant to spend much time there, some of those visits were quite successful. Such as another staple of his act, in which he puts some former--or would-be presidents--in the position George Washington found himself after chopping down the cherry tree.

The last of these Wednesday was Jesse Jackson, who, in facing his angry father, said: “Well, Daddy . . . um . . . the question is not whether or not I chopped down your tree . . . as much as do I believe in the tree’s right to exist !”

For both the concept and dead-on impression of Jackson, Wilmore elicited a huge, loud response. And the fact that he managed to put together several such responses--in much the same way he assembles his jokes--probably explains why he was called back for an encore. Encores are extremely rare in comedy clubs, except for phony ones staged by some comics. But Wilmore’s appeared to be spontaneous, genuine--and well-earned.

Wilmore continues through Sunday at the Laff Stop, headlining a bill that also includes Dave Parker.

LARRY WILMORE

Friday, 8:30 and 10:30 p.m.; Saturday, 8, 10 and 11:45 p.m.; Sunday, 8:30 p.m.

Laff Stop, 2122 S.E. Bristol St., Newport Beach

$6 to $8