Steen Raskopoulos: You Know the Drill

Steen Raskopoulos begins by warning the audience that our participation will be an unavoidable aspect of the evening's entertainment. Perhaps aware that there are those who regard this prospect with dread, Raskopoulos is more considerate than many standups, promising he would never ask anyone to do anything he wasn't prepared to do himself. While there might be some difference between what a professional comedian and an average Fringegoer is content to do onstage, for the most part (one simulated orgy aside) he remains true to the spirit of his promise. Raskopoulos wants us laughing, not humiliated, and his attitude is not dissimilar to the first persona he assumes: a drill instructor who practices relentless positive reinforcement at high volume.

Yes, many of Raskopoulos's skits require the participation of a few volunteers, and he's not above having some good-natured fun with them. But beyond his lack of cruelty, what justifies this comedic strategy is that he never uses his audience-plucked pawns as a cheap shortcut; Raskopoulos' characters are clearly the result of merticulous work, rarely feeling ill-conceived or underthought. And while he never allows the show to become overly sentimental—a radio DJ whose broadcast takes a grim turn shows the comic's edge—there is a sweet undercurrent of human feeling in much of his comedy. This culminates in the hilariously sad travails of a child dancer preparing for a competition, whose mother is definitely not coming to watch him. Squeezing sympathy from such a scenario is no great trick, but Raskopoulos, as he almost always does, finds the laughter.