Laughter in lights

Ghada Anis stands on the stage of the DC Improv comedy club, blinking against the bright lights that illuminate her black-on-black outfit and slightly trembling hands. She surveys the crowd, takes an audible breath and plunges into her five-minute stand-up routine.

“My name is Ghada Anis,” she says. “I know what you’re thinking. With a name like that I must be from Nebraska. Well, I am.”

The crowd chuckles. Emboldened by the first laugh, Ms. Anis, a 41-year-old nurse from Southeast, is gaining confidence. She rips into her heritage, making fun of her matchmaking relatives, speaking Arabic and funny foreign accents.

“You wanna hear what ‘Happy Birthday to You’ sounds like in Arabic?” she deadpans. The crowd nods.

“Happy burrrrzzday tuuu yuuuuu, Happy burrrrzzday tuuu yuuuuu …”

By the song’s third line, Ms. Anis has brought down the house.

She knows how to get laughs, but Ms. Anis is no comedian.

Ms. Anis, along with 18 other novice performers who took the stage tonight, has just graduated from the Improv’s stand-up comedy class. The monthlong course led by veteran comedian Matt Kazam teaches the art of public speaking, crowd fusing and telling jokes.

A few of the students are serious about a career in comedy. Some registered on a dare from friends. Many are going through a major life transition. But every last person in the room thinks he or she is — or at least could be — funny.

But can you teach funny?

If funny had a formula, wouldn’t late-night TV have a lot more variety? If everyone could be funny, would anyone care if Dave Chappelle broke his contract with Comedy Central and fell off the face of the Earth?

“Some people are just naturally more funny than others,” says Flip Orley, a comedian and hypnotist who performed at the Improv late last month, “but almost anyone can learn to tell a joke in an acceptable way.”

Mr. Kazam agrees that he can usually tell right away if someone has the gift for comedy.

“The gift” is both the ability and the desire to make people laugh, but comedians say it often comes from a dysfunctional past.

“A lot of comics come from a fair amount of pain, and it’s sort of their way of dealing with stuff,” Mr. Orley says.

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