I love my industry but it contains people who leave a secret trail of pain and devastation totally at odds with their stage and screen personas
Sarah Solemani is an actor, writer and activist who starred in the Bafta-winning comedy Him & Her
I’ve worked in comedy in some capacity for several decades, and I include in that a year in a call centre in north Finchley run by a man who embraced the early stages of hair transplant technology, which was serious LOLS until the company was shut down by HMRC. Acting funny and writing funny has got me far. From winning the best sitcom Bafta for Him & Her, to playing Bridget Jones’s best friend, to writing monologues for Goldie Hawn, who held me like a newborn in her house and insisted we had met in a previous life. I also get to work on new projects with my favourite directors, such as Tom George of This Country, where we make each other laugh from the beginning of the day to the end. Lucky me.
Unluckily, working in comedy has also, for some strange reason, brought me into the close orbit of more than your average number of sexual predators, several of whom are still merrily working. Recently I had to pull a project from a company when I was informed it was common knowledge that a high-level exec was known for allegedly raping a colleague. Another famous comic had to pull a project when I informed them a legend they were working with was also an alleged rapist. That was two rape-related conversations in the same week without a punchline.
If you think there’s dissonance in the pursuits, you’d be right. On one level – the higher level, you might say – we are trying to make work that brings joy and amusement to the deserving masses. Then, in the secret, unfunny world, we are sending clandestine, time-consuming warnings about rapists and trying to covertly deal with the fallout. Are male comedians more likely to be rapists than say, firefighters or coastguards? We don’t have the data on that (but you can bet some poor, out-of-work female comedian is researching it as we speak instead of what she should be doing: WRITING JOKES).
View image in fullscreenRussell Brand performing in Beverly Hills, California, November 2012. Photograph: Chris Pizzello/Invision/APBefore he was a conspiracist YouTuber or even a Hollywood star, Russell Brand was a comedian, taking shows up to Edinburgh and building a following on the comedy circuit. For years, it has been common knowledge in comedy circles and beyond that he hurt many, many women. Brand has now been found guilty of raping a fan and sexually assaulting three other women. Thanks to the gargantuan bravery of the four women who came forward, he is unlikely to harm again. From my understanding it was those within the comedy community, and one famous female comedian in particular, who helped the survivors bring about justice.
Brand will serve a “significant custodial term” but the British comedy community knows there are more sexual abusers working on sets right now. They may not be tried in their lifetime. But we know. And they know. Female and working-class young talent have also only been made more vulnerable by slashes to comedy budgets and a dearth of TV commissions. I will never forgive myself for introducing one comedy producer to promising new talent, only to find out he had abused them in his flat, offering them London accommodation for their gigs and auditions.
The criminal justice system served the victims of Brand. For the majority of others, it does not: it’s “he said v she said”, and he said wins because the burden of proof is not on him. The informal network of reporting and taking action are crucial to protect women and vulnerable people.
Brand has been brought to justice, but his damage to the culture runs deep. If only he had been the ultimate radical comedian and admitted the harm he had done. If only he had led the way through remorse and rehabilitation, rather than doubling down and putting the women through the pain and humiliation of a criminal trial. If only we had been spared the changing of his shamanic cloaks, and him settling on his current Christian charade, and instead witnessed a man surrendering to true repair and redemption. That would have finally been an act of his worth watching.
Sarah Solemani is an actor, writer and activist
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