Drama Beard

I still remember the first time I saw the movie AWAKENINGS with Robin Williams. I’m a little fuzzy on the chronology, but I think this was before DEAD POET’S SOCIETY. And if I’m wrong, it doesn’t matter—I saw AWAKENINGS first.

Williams plays a doctor who uses an experimental drug therapy to “un-freeze” these people afflicted with a neurological disorder that has literally locked them inside their own bodies. Now Robin Williams is a funny ass guy, and yet the whole time I found myself riveted by his serious dramatic performance.

What the hell? What’s the difference between say, GOOD MORNING VIETNAM Williams and say, AWAKENINGS Williams?

Two words: Drama Beard.

Ah, the Drama Beard. Could there be an easier way to be taken seriously? I don’t believe there is. I recently saw LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE and noticed that Steve Corell used a similar method of escaping his comedic roots. If you’re a comedian and you want to tackle a dramatic role, the best way is with the drama beard.

The equation is simple—your face is funny so cover it with a shit-load of hair. Also, other than George Carlin (RIP George) can you think of anyone with a beard who IS FUNNY? I can’t.

Biker dudes have beards—not funny.
Santa Clause has a beard—not funny (or real).
Charles Manson wore a beard—definitely not funny.
Fidel Castro has a beard—not funny.
I could go on, but I think I’ve made my case.

Having a beard means you’re not funny. You’re a serious, introspective thinker. While wearing a beard you’re so busy being serious that you don’t have time for trivial things, like shaving.

In an effort to boost my own seriousness, I’ve grown my own “drama beard.” So far I feel MUCH more serious.

Rather than cracking jokes and making witty observations, I find myself in serious contemplative thought. Of course, what I’m usually thinking about is my beard—and what’s gotten into it.


Mostly food, drink, and spit.

Beards are a magnet for food, drink, and spit (hence forth know as FDS). When eating, people don’t realize that small particles of food (called “crumbs”) often run down their faces. The man with a drama beard is acutely aware of these crumbs, however, because as they bombard his chin, and they become encrusted in the hair.

If there were any doubt about the effectiveness of the drama beard, let me assure you—I don’t laugh AT ALL while eating. Instead I’m constantly wiping my mouth, like I was an old person or a baby.

The drink part of FDS is mostly localized to the moustache region of the drama beard. When taking a big swig of water, I can feel the ‘stash absorb some of what I’m trying to drink (giving me what I like to call “wet stash”). Basically you’re forced to wring your face out over a sink after you’re drinking (unless you use a straw, but no man with a drama beard uses them—they’re just a little too humorous, and humor is NOT what we’re going for).

Spit is similar to drink in this equation. I don’t know about you, but my body produces enough spit for my own personal needs, as well as the needs of a small Nicaraguan village. I’m a talker. I like talking, and sometimes I get a little excited…and suffering succotash (as Sylvester the Cat would say) if that spit don’t come flying outta my mouth on occasion.

I know this is gross.

I know this probably makes a lot of people’s stomachs churn (my own wife detests my spit). And when I’m sans-drama beard, when these little “spit episodes” occur, I apologize and we all just move on.

BUT when you’re wearing a drama beard…things are more complicated. As spit is both very similar to water and food crumbs, it is both captured by the hair (like food) and absorbed (like drink). You have no idea how many times people have come up to me and said “what the hell is on your face?” 99.99% of the time it turns out to be spit, which is bad but not TERRIBLE so long as it’s MY SPIT.

But alas, this is not always the case. You see, the very instrument that is so adept at catching and holding MY SPIT is also very efficient at catching and holding YOUR SPIT.

I think the less said about this the better.

With all these pitfalls you can see why the bearded man is so damn serious. As you can imagine there are things we just can’t do—like work in cafeterias or chew gum. Imagine trying to be funny when you know that you can’t have any Double Mint.

The Drama Beard is one of the oldest acting techniques known to mankind. It has been utilized by jesters and other funnymen trying to go “straight” for centuries, and God willing it will continue to be used far into the future.

Think about it.