COMEDY REVIEW : Chong’s Stand-Up Stands Still : He Reaches Back Into Old Routines and Pot-Smoking Personae

In interviews, Tommy Chong doesn’t make it a secret that he’s foundered in his search for a niche in the entertainment world since his split with longtime partner Richard (Cheech) Marin in 1985.

On the evidence of his stand-up gig Sunday at the Coach House, his search will have to continue.

Granted, working alone on stage still is relatively new for Chong, who has played only a dozen or so club dates since his solo debut in June. He may come around. But there were no signs Sunday that he is moving in a worthwhile direction, in terms of either material or execution--no signs, even, that he has given a serious thought to the difference between stand-up and sketch comedy.

What we got was a rather wooden routine of tired one-liners and brief observational bits. About half the set consisted of witlessly crude sex jokes and brief forays into topical humor (the Clarence Thomas hearings, Pee-wee Herman) that were a couple of notches below the level of banter one finds around the average office water-cooler.

The other half was a perfunctory grab-bag of characters and routines based on the blissed-out, pot-smoking personae of his Cheech and Chong days plus a few seconds of the tyrannical Sister Mary Elephant, a longer stretch of blues singer Blind Melon Chitlin, and a too-long taste of the Shriner who has wandered into a porn flick and describes it (in detail) to his wife Margaret.

Chong proved infinitely more comfortable in character than he did just telling jokes, but there are only so many Cheech and Chong routines that can be resurrected for just one performer. Chong even pulled a woman from the audience onto the stage for the old “Ralph and Herbie” bit, about two dogs who, well, do the things dogs do. The volunteer played along gamely.

Cheech and Chong were two guys who came along with the right material at the right time, pushing drug humor and irreverence for authority figures (nuns, cops, parents) into the mainstream with a series of hit comedy records in the early and mid-’70s. The routines often were in unapologetically bad taste, but it was all in good fun--counterculture comedy without overt political edge.

The team parlayed its recording success into a hit movie (“Up in Smoke”) and a series of follow-ups that were progressively less successful. Cheech eventually took the hint and struck off on his own, finding some success with a change in direction. Chong seems intent on mining the same old vein, though it gives every sign of having played out long ago.

A lot has happened in comedy since Cheech and Chong came on the scene, and material that may have seemed slightly anarchic and anti-authoritarian then seems tired and anachronistic now, especially coming from a 53-year-old father of five.

For the record, much of the audience responded warmly to the stretch of Cheech and Chong oldies. Chong is working with the advantage of some residual goodwill, but that well may dissipate quickly if all he can offered is warmed-over Cheech and Chong nuggets.

What this man needs is an act. In his opening routine, he touched on a couple of issues that could be a rich field for comedic observation, but he dismissed them with easy punch lines.

The drug humor was mostly of the push-button kind (gee, doesn’t marijuana make you forgetful/hungry/lethargic?). But what about the way the entertainment industry, particularly TV and movies, suddenly purged drug references under pressure from the Reagan Administration?

Chong, of all people, should be able to give us a few observations from the front line, but the subject went unexplored.

He did talk briefly about the trials of a marijuana-promoting parent in the Reagan era, scoring with a bit about his youngest child, 11 years old, who has been inundated with the “Just Say No” campaign for most of her life.

“This little (noun deleted) is trying to bust me,” Chong said. Recalling his own youth, he noted that he had to hide his marijuana from his parents. Now, he said, “I’m a parent and I’m trying to hide it from my kid!” Chong said that another kid was caught stealing from Dad’s stash. But the matter was used only for a quick laugh; none of the contradictions of the situation was explored. Chong seemed only to be playing at the form of stand-up comedy and falling back quickly on past glories.

A final note: A passing reference or two to his former partner might be expected, but Chong seemed unable to let the subject go, culminating in a song performed during his encore (and introduced as a “tribute” to Cheech) in which a list of Southland cities was recited, each followed by the word “beaner.”