The illustrious Montreal company behind the much-beloved Just for Laughs comedy festival has pulled the plug on the 2024 edition, citing financial woes that are apparently more severe than the punchlines at your cousin’s awkward birthday party. They’ve filed a notice of intention to make a proposal to creditors, which, by the way, is the Canadian equivalent of saying, “Help! I’m drowning in red ink!”
In a dramatic twist more unexpected than a comedian’s punchline, 75 staff members were laid off on a typical Tuesday morning. A spokesperson for the festival declared the company’s financial situation “unsustainable,” as if we didn’t already assume that organizing a comedy festival didn’t involve printing money from a clown’s pocket.
The company blamed their fiscal freefall on lost revenues over two years of pandemic shenanigans and, oh, the usual challenges bedeviling the media landscape. You know, like thinner wallets at network and streaming platforms. Because when it comes to entertainment cuts, **comedy** is evidently—drumroll, please—first on the chopping block.
In a news release that likely included more excitement than the festival itself, Groupe Juste pour rire Inc. stated that they plan to continue operations in a “scaled-down format.” So, think less festival, more sad karaoke night in a dimly-lit basement bar.
Tuesday came and went, with Julien Provencher-Proulx of JPR (whose name sounds like it could be a character in a French farce) claiming Toronto’s Just for Laughs festival would still happen this September. But then Wednesday arrived like a pesky hangover from the previous evening’s antics, bringing the announcement that the Toronto festival would **not** occur. Surprise! Now, where’s that punchline?
Once the organizational restructuring is through—watch out for the jargon—the company *hopes* to resurrect this festival from its financial grave in 2025. In the meantime, Montreal’s artsy crowd will have to brainstorm other ways to be creatively miserable without their beloved festival. The canceled shows already include a delightfully eclectic mix: Messmer, Neev, Mélanie Couture, and Waitress. Because who doesn’t love a good dose of disappointment?
Ticketholders can seek refunds either from the venue where they made their purchases or by charming their credit card companies—because who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned chat with customer service? All that’s left is for local comedians who thrived because of the festival to wander the streets like forlorn clowns without their circus.
Sid Khullar, the owner and president of MTL Comedy Club, called the cancellation “devastating.” It seems that the absence of the festival might throw a wrench in the business economy, with some claiming a 10 to 20 percent boost during the festival. “Without JFL in the mix, it might be a bit harder,” he said, adding that they will still give it a try—likely involving rock-paper-scissors for who gets the stage.
As if things couldn’t get worse, local comedians are crying foul, with rising star Mike Paterson lamenting the loss of opportunities for newcomers, saying, “It really sucks for people who have to rely on this stuff.” And you thought promoting local talent was a given that could be whimsical, not tragic.
Lastly, Montreal Mayor Valérie Plante is feeling the pinch too and is asking city workers to contact JFL and assess its plans for this “flagship event” of Montreal’s cultural scene. “We will miss the Just For Laughs Festival this summer,” she posted online, as if we weren’t already aware. Comedy is indeed critical in Montreal, and without the festival, locals may find themselves laughing at their own tragic financial situations instead.
