Women Comics Connecting Feminism With Funny

Make room for the ladies.

In the last few months, women comedy duos have been taking Los Angeles by storm--from the recently departed “Canned Laughter” of Jeanette Collins and Mimi Friedman, to the current successes of Kathy Najimy and Mo Gaffney in “The Kathy and Mo Show: Parallel Lives” (at the Los Angeles Theatre Center through Sunday) and Janet Lazarus and Jill Wachholz in “Just Between You and Me and Everyone Else and Their Uncle Bob” (late-night at the Eagle Theatre through Saturday.

What do they all have in common? For starters, there’s a telling age factor. Friedman and Collins are 33; Najimy, 31; Gaffney, 29; Lazarus, 31, and Wachholz, 30. Although they have different styles, personalities, ethnicity and regional roots, they grew up in the same time frame. They watched the same TV (from “I Love Lucy” to “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”), listened to the same music--and the same politicians’ promises. Vietnam happened around them, as did Watergate, global terrorism and the women’s movement.

Yet as these pairs of women comics emerge, there are apprehensions. Can females be funny without putting themselves down? (Insists Najimy, “We don’t have to be stand-up comediennes anymore: say how ugly we are . . . how our boyfriends hate us.”) Will men be able to relate? Will the perception of an archetypal stony-faced, fist-raising militancy scare people away?

“In San Diego, where we started, the show never really went past the community of artists, alternative-y type people,” Najimy noted. “We didn’t have droves of La Jolla matrons. So when we opened Off Broadway (at the Second Stage), I was really surprised. There were all these yuppie couples, older people, and they liked it. Of course, we had a lot of opposition in the beginning to calling ourselves feminist. We were told, ‘People think it won’t be funny.’ Personally, I want people to change their ideas. If they don’t connect feminist with funny, maybe they should come see us.”

The resistance is well entrenched, even among fellow women. Says Wachholz, “My brother would call me a feminist, because in his mind I’m a career girl; I work. But I don’t think our show has the kind of cynicism, that chip-on-the shoulder thing that is often identified with the feminist community. They might get upset with me for saying it, but I think a large part of the population feels that way about them: that they hate men--versus just being women. We happen to be two people doing a show together. I don’t think we’re trying to make a stand. I know I’m not.”

Beyond the political dynamic, there are distinct presentational differences between the groups. Although both duos’ work grew out of improvisation, Lazarus’ and Wachholz’s material is more low-key, less pointed. Friendship is the theme that carries the actresses through “Just a Little Friendly Conversation” (where the buddies gift each other with everything from sweaters to kidneys), “Just Butt Out” (Lazarus, horrified at the sight of her derriere in the mirror), “Just Hold On” (the joys of call-waiting) and “Just Buying Time” (a tear-your-hair-out session with a saleslady).

In contrast, Najimy and Gaffney offer deft, charged characterizations in “Mrs. Kenny Rogers and the Prostitute” (on the difficulties of being beautiful yet natural, smart yet not threatening in the ‘80s), out-of-touch sisters (one of whom is battling bulimia) reconnecting at their grandmother’s funeral, “Sister/Woman/Sister” (set in a vegetarian lesbian cafe, where Najimy proclaims herself “w-o-m-y-n”) and somber confessions from a couple of very lapsed Catholics (“I had sex . . . I had sex with two people . . . I think I had group sex”).

“For me, the political message is No. 1,” said Najimy. “Things like human nature. Roles between men and women. Fear. Women’s self-esteem. Body image. We touch on things about homosexuality, sexuality in general.” The results are, she admits, highly personal. “I think more than any other production I’ve been in, people would know me from this show. It’s not objective. It has a point of view--and that point of view is ours.”

Both teams started out as friends: Najimy and Gaffney hooked up in 1982 after, respectively, a relationship breakup and an apartment fire; Lazarus and Wachholz met as cast members in the 1986 Odyssey production of “Johnny Johnson.”

“We turned to writing because we were sick of other people controlling our lives,” said Lazarus. “I felt like I was at the mercy of so many plays about men--with women being appendages. Like ‘Johnny Johnson.’ I went from ‘Becket’ to that. Everything was focused around the man in the play. This show was written for us, by us. So I think this is a subtle feminist play--because although we’re not talking about feminism, it is a feminist act to be empowering women and showing women characters as holding their own in life.”

From a business point of view, however, it’s not often easy. In Najimy and Gaffney’s case, the former does most of their business arrangements (“She’s sort of the brains, I’m the brawn,” demurs Gaffney). In spite of the show’s huge popularity over the last three years (since New York, they’ve toured to Chicago, Philadelphia, San Francisco and back to San Diego at the Old Globe), Najimy notes that people don’t always respond well to her authority.

“There’s a real reluctance in the beginning to accept that you’re in control and powerful in your own career, that you don’t have a male manager making your decisions, that you know what you want, that you insist everyone do their jobs the best they can.” She smiled. “Especially since we’re also actresses: People are used to actresses saying, ‘Thank God I’m in this play. I’ll kiss your feet, wear anything, say anything.’ We don’t feel like that. We feel like we’ve had a strong hand in our success so far, and we don’t owe anybody thanks but the universe--and ourselves.”