Wareheim, who grew up in Audubon, met Allentown's Tim Heidecker more than 20 tims and eric sports live ago when the two were rebel film students at Temple University. And then "our teachers would give us A's for it. Going to school at Temple — which in those days, he said, "was like a war zone, just getting to class" — taught him that "you don't get anything for free. Our fans have wanted [it], and Tim and I, we've always kind of worked under the rule of don't do things unless there's some real inspiration there. So this year, we just kind of felt that we had something to say.
CreditCreditMichelle V. On a recent Friday night at Town Hall, the audience seemed confused by this spectacle.
Was the show over? Should they leave?
Some did. Others watched the gesticulating comic until Mr.
Heidecker returned and escorted him offstage. It was classic Tim and Eric: remixing the tropes of stale show business, gleefully baffling the audience and throwing spitballs at comedy. Wareheim, 41, said backstage before the show.
Heidecker and Mr. Wareheim said.
Their bursts of deliriously random nonsense evoke Monty Python, and their preference for eccentric amateurs instead of comics is similar to the inclinations that turned Larry Bud Melman into an unlikely star on late-night television.
What makes Tim and Eric truly innovative, however, is the process and delivery system for their giddy style, generating jokes as much in the editing room as on the page. But some comics did.
Their quick-hit sketches are filled with cartoonish noises squishes, snaps , abrupt edits, star wipes , zooms held seconds too long and freeze frames emphasizing contorted faces.
Tim and Eric mock clumsy cable access, for sure, but also venerate the possibilities of terrible acting or the kinds of mistakes that reveal an honest moment in the middle of the artifice of show business.
One of their most distinctive sketches began when they realized that the scenes they were shooting about an indifferent student at a Roman Catholic school were not working. Reilly, compares their process to the comedic version of a D. Just do the wrong thing. But it has to be the perfect wrong thing at the right time with a rhythm to it.
They are just as likely to abandon a premise abruptly or embrace confusion.
Is this acting or not? This truly disgusting sequence helped earn them a stampede of walkouts at Sundance, but also the kind of notoriety with a shelf life among fans of cult film. People are screaming. We always wanted our show to be like that.