Inside the Strange, Sincere Comedy of Kyle Mooney and Dave McCary
Kyle Mooney and Mark Hamill in Brigsby Bear. Credit: Sony Pictures Classics
The S.N.L. vets and lifelong friends talk going deep in their first feature, the wonderfully odd Brigsby Bear.
Back in 2008, YouTubers Dave McCary and Kyle Mooney caught the attention of Steven Spielberg. After his daughter showed him one of their videos—a parody of Spielberg’s own Hook—he sent them an encouraging note that Mooney kept in his wallet for years. They also sent a response to the filmmaker: “Steven, seems like you’re on the right track too. Keep making videos.” He took their advice.
And they took his. In 2013, Saturday Night Live hired the pair—McCary as a writer-director and Mooney as a cast member. Then at Sundance this January, they premiered their first feature film, the dark but whimsical Brigsby Bear—directed by McCary, starring Mooney—to standing ovations, positive reviews, and a $5 million deal with Sony Pictures Classics. It opens in theaters July 28.
Tall, urbane, self-effacing McCary and rumpled Mooney—who shows up for our interview wearing a vintage sweatshirt covered with purple seals—have been a package deal since childhood. They grew up down the street from one another in San Diego; they shared nerdy obsessions, collaborated on a rap album in high school, performed “indie electronic dream pop” together in college. And, even as their stock rises, they’ve remained disarmingly modest. “We kind of decided we’re really going to spill the beans with you,” Mooney deadpans. McCary interrupts: “This is the one where all the secrets come out.”
They like finishing each other’s sentences. And they like authenticity. Their comedy celebrates the little guy, the one wrestling with personal demons: an overzealous roommate who alienates potential friends; a rebellious teen badass aching for his father’s attention; an old-school stand-up comic whose humor tries to hide a lifetime of pain. Social angst is their palette.
“We see the worst versions of ourselves—things we did or could have done—in the characters who inspire us,” McCary says. “That motivates us. We want people to be more self-aware, to see how strange we all are, how delusional. And how wonderful.”
Their best bits are deep character portraits, what McCary calls “our little stories.” Mooney elaborates: “Vulnerability makes us uncomfortable, but it’s exactly what we need to connect with one another.” “It’s cathartic,” McCary adds. “Not just for our audience, but for us.”
McCary went to film school, but left after two years. Instead, he hung out with Mooney, Beck Bennett and Nick Rutherford at U.S.C., where the four of them launched the comedy team GoodNeighbor. They soon followed in the footsteps of The Lonely Island—three high-school friends who caught mainstream comedy’s eye by posting their work on the Internet in the early aughts—and began producing videos. “I was the only one who knew how,” McCary says. “It was kind of a serendipitous thing where we were in the right moment, had the right creative mix.”
Gradually, GoodNeighbor’s sketches grew deeper and richer; their zany characters began to feel real. “We started exploring the importance of backstories,” McCary explains, “and then applied what we knew about comedy to dramatic narratives.”
In 2013—again following in the footsteps of The Lonely Island—they were invited to join S.N.L. Suddenly, they went from cult heroes to not-ready-for primetime players—but after a year, Nick Rutherford left the team. Even though he and Bennett (who is still a Saturday Night Live cast member) both have cameos in Brigsby Bear, the GoodNeighbor brand no longer exists—a disappointing outcome for their original fan base.
“Our fans want us to keep doing GoodNeighbor sketches, but that’s no longer possible,” McCary explains. “On YouTube, we were our own masters. We could sit on an edit until we got it right, we could choose quality over quantity.” Mooney chimes in: “We were constantly learning and trying new things—oh, maybe this will work—and we want to keep doing that. But now there’s more pressure.” They know that their tone is off-center, not fully in line with the classic S.N.L. formula, and that weekly output is key. This clearly bothers McCary: “At S.N.L., we don’t have the luxury to perfect things. However a video turns out, that’s what we have to present.” Even with four seasons under his belt, he sounds apologetic. “There’s a number of things that I’m super embarrassed by and wish didn’t air.”
Self-examination is an essential element to their comedy. “We are always asking ourselves, is our laughter misguided? Have we seen past the pretense, have we found a real truth?” explains McCary. “I have to fight my own fears and delusions.”
“I have an alcohol problem,” adds Mooney. “But flaws are what make us special.” Then they both grin.
Though the vehicle for their work has changed, the approach hasn’t. Their process is still trial and error; their priority is still to make themselves laugh. They just hope that others are also in on the joke.
Enter Brigsby Bear, the feature-length narrative that is more like a GoodNeighbor “dramedy” than any of their S.N.L. videos. McCary and Mooney hope it will surprise their fans. “We’re actually terrified about people knowing too much about the film. We’re afraid it might spoil the journey,” says McCary.
You can, at least, know this before seeing the film: Brigsby is a coming-of-age story that will strike a chord with anyone who grew up watching screens. On its surface, it’s about a man-child who uses filmmaking to face his own fears—after learning that he was kidnapped as a baby, and everything he thought he knew is a lie. On a deeper level, it’s about lost innocence, perseverance, and respect for passionate outliers—the ones with the crazy ideas. It’s very implausible, but thoroughly convincing.
It’s also surprisingly intimate. Mooney’s character, James, channels his trademark naiveté and fish-out-of-water persona, but with a level of depth that transcends McCary and Mooney’s past efforts. In many ways, the project mirrors their journey as artists.
“The reality is, we’re not brilliant filmmakers. We’re actually full of fear,” McCary explains. “In Brigsby, the things that happen to James have a harsh parallel to our own lives—the pain that comes with lost illusions; the fear of disappointing an audience. But that’s only part of the story. We hope people absorb the film’s positive energy, its nostalgia for a time when people were just flat-out good to each other.”
He looks at Mooney for confirmation, then nods. “And, yes: on a deeper level, we hope it helps us face life’s darker stuff too. These aren’t easy times.”
Originally published in Vanity Fair on July 24th, 2017. You can read the original here.