Not long after settling in Melbourne, we caught up with the annual comedy festival. The entire comedy festival lasts for 12 days, and many comedy artists and stand-up performers from all over the world come to Melbourne to perform. On the last day of the comedy festival, my wife and I happened to be near a breakout venue, and we had nothing to do, so let's go in and have a look.
There are still a few minutes before the opening, we bought tickets quickly, trotted all the way in, only to find that there were only two of us in the entire auditorium. The young performer was packing up and preparing to leave. When she saw us coming in, she looked at each other awkwardly, and then put the packed microphone in her hand back on the stage stand, and the performance started embarrassingly.
Limited by the language, we really can't understand her jokes, but she is like a performance machine that has been tempered. Whether we laugh or not, we are immersed in our own performances and make ourselves laugh from time to time. Out of courtesy, we laughed along too.
During the intermission, the little girl came over to chat with us and asked how we were feeling. We pretended to praise her, and she laughed even more. "Is this your first time performing?" I couldn't help asking her.
She showed a proud expression: "No, I have been performing on this venue for 6 consecutive days."
I asked again: "Then the content of each performance is the same?"
"Yes, but every time the audience It's different, this time you're a 'VIP'." She pointed to the empty auditorium. This time, my wife and I laughed heartily.
"I feel like you are doing a comedy for the first time because you have a good laugh."
"Because every time my performances are successful! And I do find it funny, I am really happy.
" , but how could she feel that a performance with only two audience members was a success? The little girl's Ah Q spirit is really strong, and my wife and I looked at each other.
I became more and more curious: "Then did your performance a few days ago have a large audience?"
"The maximum number of people was seven, and other times there were only two or three people." When she said it, her face was not red or her heart skipped a beat.
My wife and I looked at each other, for fear that it would be more embarrassing to ask. But I couldn't help it, and continued to test on the edge of embarrassment: "The audience is not very large, why are you still performing for several days?"
She seemed a little surprised when she heard me say this: "I am very happy when I perform. Ah, no matter how many audience members there are, since some people come to watch, why not continue the performance?"
I probably understood, Ah Q felt that she succeeded because she lied to herself, and she was really happy. She walked back to the stage and could see her smile from a short distance.
At the end of the show, we helped her pack up the props, and she explained to me that she didn't make a lot of money at the comedy festival, but every time she performed in front of a few people in the audience, she could make herself laugh, and she had a lot of fun. sense of achievement, that's enough.
She did not regard the 3 hours of a performance as a waste of time, but regarded the stage of the venue as a place to show her happiness. As long as someone is watching, she is willing to perform.
I remember watching a talk show, an actor joked on the stage: "Who really loves acting? It's just for a living."
Obviously, she is not.
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