Fifteen years ago, American comedy was taking a more embittered, caustic turn thanks to comedians like Louis C.K., Marc Maron (CAS’86), and Bill Burr. Old tropes were dying, and darker themes—addiction, self-loathing, and fear of aging—emerged in their place. But across the Atlantic, a sense of possibility was blooming. Sebastian Marx had recently moved to Paris and was working on creating something fresh: a comedy scene for English-speaking expats living in the City of Light.

“There was hardly anything [for non-French speakers], so I started a weekly English comedy night,” says Marx (CGS’99, COM’01). “Now in Paris, there’s a comedy show in English pretty much every night of the week in pubs or bars or theaters. Every major city in Europe has some English comedy going on.”

Marx studied in the Film & Television program at COM, but spent his evenings bartending, and occasionally performing, at the Comedy Connection in its former Faneuil Hall location. He’d gotten the bug in high school back in Manhattan, where he had taken a stand-up class his senior year.

“It was a weekly class where we’d work on developing a five minute set, and then, at the end, we’d present at an open mic with all the other students,” he says. “It went well—partly because I invited half of my high school class and they were very supportive. But it also gave me the taste of what it feels like to be on stage and tell jokes. I was hooked.”

At the comedy nights he hosted and performed in Paris, Marx was bolstered by the fact that the audience and talent could be from anywhere—France, the United States, England, Guatemala, Hong Kong—and still be likely to know a little English.

Comedy is so fickle; it’s so dependent on who is in the audience. That’s also part of why I try to stay personal. In that way, when you talk about yourself, it also becomes universal.

Sebastian Marx

“I would have 60 percent French people and 40 percent Americans, Spanish people, or Polish people—and they may not know enough French to follow a French comedy show, but they do know enough English to follow an English comedy night,” he says.

As the unofficial lingua franca of the world, English is a safe bet for performers anywhere. But that didn’t stop Marx from launching a comedy career en Français. 

Le Comédien Bilingue

“To be honest, my English comedy has never earned me much of a living,” Marx admits. “It’s more the French stuff that I do that’s been the reason I’m able to live off of stand up comedy.”

In his early days as an English-language performer, he says he got a sense that his French audience wanted to watch him “struggle with their language,” New-Yorkais accent and all. Maybe it was a bit of schadenfreude, maybe pure fascination, but these Parisians were transfixed by the prospect of hearing words and culture refracted through an American perspective.

“The French just want to hear an American talk about them—I guess that we’re all egocentric in that way,” Marx says. “The foreign point of view on the way French people are seems to be the material that works best. If I stay on the cusp of the major strokes of American culture, they’ll be on board.”

Marx still performs in English, typically for a tourist and expat crowd. Some of his material works in both languages—but rarely gets an identical reaction. 

“I’m with a French woman. I have one joke where I say, and she smokes a lot by American standards, but by French standards, she’s just breathing,” he says. “That one works better in English…it [plays on] that American cliché of French people smoking, but the French don’t necessarily see themselves as big smokers. They’re comparing themselves to other European countries, and [they see] people smoking more in Italy or Spain. The joke still kind of works in French, but not as much.”

Culture Study

As an American, there are some bog-standard jokes Marx could be making to his French audience: about big cars, cheeseburgers, politics, or guns. It’s not his shtick, though.

“I like shows that are timeless, and I try to stay relatively personal,” he says. “I talk about my experience as an American living in France.”

His first touring show, Un New Yorkais a Paris (A New Yorker in Paris), was all about his experiences with cultural dissonance, getting his footing in a new country, and learning a finicky, frustrating language. The second show, On Est Bien Là (We’re Good Here), was more personal, more autobiographical. At its heart is the familiar parable of the Ant and Grasshopper, the industrious worker and the idler. In France, the tale is known as La Cigale et La Fourmi (the cicada and the ant) and is standard fare for children under 10. For Marx, they’re stand-ins for the hyperproductive Americans and the work-shy French.

“It was about how we’re split into two categories,” says Marx. “The people who think ahead and the people who are really spontaneous. I felt this was a parallel between America and France.”

Marx doesn’t just comment on the French as a whole. He tours nationally, and as he moves through the different regions in France, he’ll make sure to include some area-specific humor for the benefit of the local audience. On the way into town, he’ll look up local attractions, sample local food, and research regional languages—Occitan, Breton, Basque, Alsatian—and fold his observations into his set. He’ll often take out a list of peculiar local words and run through them onstage, asking the audience’s help in understanding them. 

“Even a New Yorker performing in Dallas is going to have to see what material works in that city,” he says. “Comedy is so fickle; it’s so dependent on who is in the audience. That’s also part of why I try to stay personal. In that way, when you talk about yourself, it also becomes universal.”

Marx will occasionally perform outside of France, often in Francophone countries like Switzerland, Belgium, and Canada. He’s even been back on the American stage once or twice—speaking French. In 2023, he performed on the West Coast through French Talent USA, an organization whose mission is to bring French culture and language stateside through live performances and film screenings.

“I was very happy to have an excuse to go back to the States, but I kind of laughed on the inside, because I never thought I would be invited to perform on the West Coast—in San Francisco—but in French,” he says. “It’s really strange. But I think it’s also pretty funny.”