COMEDY REVIEW : Dana Gould Exposes Himself : His Comic Self-Psychoanalysis Makes Some Uneasy, but His Uncommon Humor Prevails

Dana Gould first fretted, then got a little cranky when the audience at the Brea Improv Tuesday night seemed unsure about his material.

Gould, who looks like fellow comic Rich Hall by way of playwright-actor Wallace Shawn, shook his head and muttered, “All these jokes are really for me,” reminding everybody that at least he was trying to enjoy himself. A few beats later, he was stomping between tables, yelling with mock anger, “I’m trying to give, and YOU GIVE BACK!”

A few laughs. A lot of nervous giggles. They weren’t sure what to expect from Gould, a talented and uncommon comedian who presents his own misery like burnt offerings. He comes at you, intent on intimacy. It’s funny and cathartic, for both Gould and us.

It’s also a bit disturbing; that may have been what put the Brea crowd off. Gould, who continues at the Improv through Sunday, dredges up characters and events that are as dark as they are candid, strange as they are amusing. A lot of people didn’t seem quite ready for all his comic self-psychoanalysis, such as when he talked about his mother and a distant family Christmas right out of a Sam Shepard nightmare.

Gould recalled how she entered the living room, against a backdrop of mistletoe and colorfully wrapped presents, completely smashed on cooking sherry and provided a heartwarming moment for her kids. “I have a Christmas secret for you . . . your father won’t touch me any more!”

He went on to act out her staggering around the room, eventually picking a fight with a relative, while the children watched, horrified. After things calmed down, everyone joined together to sing the Gould family rendition of a popular holiday tune, this time with young Dana as the centerpiece: “Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh, Christmas Tree, Dana is adopted . . . . “

What made the routine work was the honesty, and the recognition of how warped the family structure can be. No idyllic scenarios of a supportive dad and a nurturing mom for Gould. They metamorphose into domestic mutants, getting on each other, getting on the kids, bitter about this and that.

The self-exposure continued in Gould’s segments about his experiences with telephone “party lines” (he calls near dawn and tries to start a discussion about death) and his problem with hearing voices (someone or something keeps telling him to “kill your boss”; Gould answers: “But I’m self-employed”).

Don’t get the wrong idea. Despite all the neuroses on parade, Gould’s act is not a downer. He eases us into his black material with strong acting, an element other comics often fail to exploit. Gould showed a flair for mimicry and an ability to enliven a bit with rich characters throughout his set.

A good example was a parody of those Quaker Oats commercials where actor Wilford Brimley gets a little too homespun. Gould got homespun, too, gabbing about how great oatmeal is and what a wholesome thing liking it can be.

But that was just the setup; it didn’t take long for his Brimley to wax about what he really likes about oatmeal. Gould, his voice heartland sincere, rhapsodized about “putting on a pink taffeta nightgown, filling it with oatmeal” and then just sitting around, enjoying himself.

That bit said something about the strangeness lurking just under the most placid, reassuring surface. There’s not much hidden with Gould, though--the kinks are right out in front.

Dana Gould performs tonight through Sunday at the Improvisation in Brea, 945 E. Birch St. Shows are 8:30 and 10:30 p.m. tonight; 8 and 10:30 p.m. Saturday; and 8:30 p.m. Sunday. Tickets: $7 to $10. Information: (714) 529-7878.