Call Me Lucky

I’m not a victim. I was but I’m not anymore. But I’m a witness. I’m my life’s testimony. Not only what happens to kids but what you can go on to; what you can become; no matter what they do unless they kill you. And that was close in my case. It was real close. But I’m here; I made it. Thus, call me 'lucky.'

Barry Crimmins is a comedian that has led a life; a life he'd rather not have lead. How he comes to terms with the situations thrust upon him is what makes the documentary so inspiring.

Born in Skaneateles, New York on the 3^rd July 1954, Crimmins was very nearly a 4^th July 'firecracker'. It’s prescient that a man like Crimmins would be born so close to America's pivotal date; for even as a boy, Crimmins was interested in his nation and the mythology surrounding it. Friends allude to how he was the brightest kid in town, someone who could turn the chalkboard on the teacher and run intellectual rings around them. Crimmins attests that his thirst for knowledge might have come from the moribund culture that surrounded him: everyone in his town was a church-going patriot, believing steadfastly in its institutions. Today, Skaneateles has changed: every year they have a Dickens festival - something Crimmins notes as ironic, given how 'most of the people (he) grew up with would have rooted for Scrooge.'

Skaneateles.

From a young age Crimmins lost faith in the institutes of church and state. Every week Crimmins would go to church, only to be admonished every week by the same Catholic priest. Crimmins was just a boy helping the Father with the rituals of mass; he had done nothing to warrant such treatment. Seemingly, the cruelty stemmed from an earlier incident where the priest attempted to fondle Crimmins’ hair, to which the boy responded by parrying the hand away. Smarting from a child's rejection, the priest made it his mission to make the child pay. In the face of this barbarism, Crimmins somehow managed to keep the wolf at bay, turning down ‘lifts’ on a number of occasions.

Outside the church he attended as a child.

Free from this adult tyranny, Crimmins was to face more. Raised by loving parents, the home was always a safe place. His parents nurtured his talents with his mum and dad encouraging his comedic and intellectual pursuits; they could not, however, discourage evil from invading their door. On the occasions that they went out they hired a babysitter, a respected local girl. Unbeknownst to them, this girl would invite around her mother’s boyfriend to help. Crimmins knew that the man was no good. In attending Mass each week, he knew what the devil looked like. Unfortunately, his sixth sense proved true: the man on a regular basis would take him into the basement and subject the child to vile rape. In safe suburbia suffering had become a daily occupation.

Understandably, Crimmins was desperate to get out of his hometown, to run from the scene of the crime. Fortunately, comedy offered salvation. On arriving in Boston, he founded the Ding Ho comedy club, which was attached 'Hong Kong', a Chinese restaurant. Starting slowly the club would go on to attract some of the biggest names in American comedy. Comics loved performing there because they knew that they would be paid well and be supported by comedy-literate fans. As well as establishing the club Crimmins performed too: an intense counterpoint to the frivolity of other acts.

An inauspicious building yielded great results.

 Watching the footage of Crimmins is redolent of Bill Hicks. Only it shouldn’t because Crimmins worked the same time as him. A lot of people wrongly believe anger started and ended with Bill. Crimmins had just as much fire. Whilst Crimmins was attending demos against American foreign policy, Hicks stood on stage speaking about it. If you like the words of Bill Hicks, then look to Crimmins, for he made them flesh. Like Hicks, Crimmins would take no prisoners when it came to the audience’s intellect: he wouldn’t play to the dumbest person in the room but the smartest, hoping the rest would keep up. When people didn’t get a joke, he would give them a history lesson until they got it. He was a teacher who talked in punch-lines, and if you didn’t like the lesson then be prepared because a tongue-lashing was on its way. This period for Crimmins was one of rage where he could fly off the handle at any given minute- a man made of raw nerves, a friend describes. This volatility, of course, was a manifestation of Crimmins’ childhood trauma: yes, he was genuinely angry over the direction America was heading, but his short-fused psyche owed more to that. 

Ultimately, Crimmins had come to the end of the line: he knew that he had to speak the trauma tumour out of his body, only then could recovery begin.

So the film, Call Me Lucky, is about Crimmins’ soul journeying out of the underworld into life. Along the way, he undergoes the torture of realising that his escape isn’t everyone’s escape; that children get abused every day, sometimes so badly it proves fatal. In the mid 90’s Crimmins was made aware of AOL chatrooms being used as a conduit for padeophiles to share child pornography; when he informed AOL of this they ignored his calls. As far as they were concerned, the chatrooms meant people stayed online longer, meaning money for the company. Crimmins wouldn’t let AOL close their browser to criminal activity so assisted prosecutors in taking the company to Congress. Seeing an alt-comic put the corporation on trial is something you would expect from Hollywood everyman James Stewart, not bearded Castro-a-like Barry Crimmins.

Crimmins testifies against AOL.

For everything Crimmins has had to go through in order to become a successful activist, comic and person; the film proves that good can overcome; that talk can lift you out of the wreckage; that for all the hell there is, this remains a wonderful life.

Call Me Lucky is available on Netflix.