Post by Brian Gruber

The Attic Space is up the stairs of a historic building in the center of Kyiv, occupying the entire 4th floor, the passion project of Vasyl Dvorko, who describes it as a “Loft with Soul.” Makeup and hair and costumes are worked as the group’s television series gets ready to shoot in front of a live audience through the side door. I wander from comic to comic with the help of Lana Chubakha. Anton Tymoshenko is one of Ukraine’s most respected practitioners of the craft. We explore the complex task of amusing Ukrainians during three years of Russian attacks. Watch the full interview on the video or read the edited transcript free on Substack. Just click the link. Brian Gruber: What’s your history with comedy in Ukraine? Anton Tymoshenko: I’ve been doing comedy for about ten years. I’m now one of the more well-known comedians here. I once filled a venue with 3,500 people — a huge show — but it happened during the war, so it didn’t feel as amazing as I expected. Brian: How is it different, performing during a war? Anton: Everything’s different. The war is everywhere. When you do something that doesn’t directly help fight the enemy, you can feel useless. But with stand-up, we raise money for weapons and supplies, so I see that as my mission — using my popularity to help the army and kill Russian invaders. Brian: Does your material change — your jokes, your writing — when your audience is living through such horrors? Anton: Not that much. A lot of my older jokes still work. Journalists often ask, “How does it feel to tell jokes during a war?” Of course, it feels different — you or your audience could die at any time. I have this joke where I ask the audience, “Who goes to the shelter when the air-raid siren sounds?” Out of a hundred people, maybe five clap. I tell them, “That’s great — that means I don’t need to write new material. I’ll just have a new audience every time.” Comedy during war is like dentistry or driving during war — it’s the same as before, except with the possibility of death. Naturally, humor becomes darker. People need to process what’s happening somehow, and dark humor helps. For more, visit the Substack. It's free, with voluntary paid subscriptions.