Ask a Ninja Live
by Titus Gee
The El Rey Theatre on Wilshire is a few blocks south of the Hollywood strip — if ya know whatta mean. It’s a good spot to find bands like the Squirrel Nut Zippers, or throw a serious private party, if you have the cash. The exterior has what some would call “character, ” or perhaps a “fine patina.” Inside, the place is nicely appointed — polished wood in all the right places, tables and chairs and a bar at the back — and offers the cozy intimacy common to small theater spaces with attentive owners.
In short, it’s the perfect place for one of the inventors of YouTube celebrity to take his show live — still a stone’s throw from mainstream fame getting close to the neighborhood. That pretty much describes Ask a Ninja. The YouTube phenom started with a goofy guy, a ski mask and a blue background, but clawed its way to mass attention by dint of raw wit and a knack for timing in the editing suite. “The Ninja,” as he is known, copped some sponsorships, sold t-shirts, started his own homepage. He became a pioneer. A guy can hardly say the word “ninja” without clarifying whether he means ‘The Ninja.’ (A problem that afflicts a limited demographic, I know)
On Wednesday, The Ninja celebrated Day of the Ninja (a holiday invented for a spoof website about ninja fast food) with a rare live appearance at the El Rey.
The audience consisted of equal parts slightly
soft guys with beards and glasses –>
wearing t-shirts from the Ninja Mart Store, teenagers with superfly goggles on their heads and parents in tow, stray Hollywood hipsters looking slightly bewildered but shrugging it off when they found the bar,
and slightly soft guys who usually have glasses and beards doing their best Hollywood-hipster impersonations . . . and also finding the bar.
Seriously, in one of the great triumphs of the internet revolution, this “Hollywood” party left the “cool kids” standing self-consciously near the walls with their arms crossed while the guys on stage cracked jokes about Star Wars and debated the attributes of superheroes. (Nerdfighters for the win!)
Two acts opened for main-Ninja-vent — a hopelessly non-stage-worthy duo called Hard N Phirm and Patton Oswalt, most recently famous as the voice of Remy the Rat in Disney’s Ratatouille. Hard N Phirm should stick to the very small screen where the slight air of awkwardness that imbues their goofy music videos might have some hope of seeming funny. Oswalt managed genuine comedy between spurts of vulgarity that tended to fall flat (remember: teens and their parents). His most successful moments blossomed out of improvisations — playing with the stationary spotlight or answering a heckling hipster who apparently found the bar a little early and wanted some spotlight himself.
Improv also worked pretty well for the Ninja — which is good because that’s all he did. In the comedy equivalent of an Evil Knievel stunt, the Ask a Ninja team invited audience members to do just that. The Ninja appeared on a large projection screen, a wise nod to the challenge of bringing the YouTube experience to a live audience. Coupled with some slick work on a multi-camera setup, the screen helped put him in a familiar context.
Most of the questions fell into two genres — stock who-would-win-in-a-fight joke prompts (Q: Squirrels or Monkeys? A: Squirrels, ‘cause they have the tag team action goin’ on) or convoluted treatises laden with insider references (A: Is the question over yet?) Most of the askers dared a net-born familiarity that sometimes bordered on rudeness. And some clearly thought themselves as clever as the Ninja himself. (They’re not. Just as they are not capable of ending the show by walking across the stage on their hands) A few of the questions spawned long, sweaty silences or lame attempts at coaching by the Ninja’s partner and microphone-man Kyle. But for the most part the man in black pulled it out of the fire
The whole thing had an oddly-appropriate informality reminiscent of a parlor game with one very talented guest — entertaining, but a little uncomfortable. And yet that only served to underscore the nature of this new kind of celebrity. We are YouTube and so its stars are ours in a very special way, no makeup artist necessary. Ask a Ninja understands and embraces that bond.
I mean, what ‘real’ celebrity would end the night by killing his partner for the sin of insulting the audience? (Sorry Kyle) That’s loyalty.
And one walked away (promptly at 10 p.m.) with the impression they gladly would return the favor.
