Craig Robinson: from The Office to Hot Tub Time Machine
Craig Robinson's ascent to comedy stardom began with some words of inspiration from his father. Or rather, some completely unintended words of inspiration. "When I was in college, I figured I was going to make a living as a musician," he explains. "Then comedy just took over. I couldn't stop joking around. My father, to his dismay, accidentally said, 'You play too much. You're silly. People get paid to be silly.' I was like, 'Whaaaat!?' He was like, 'Yeah, comedians, that's what they do.' So that kind of triggered it, right there."
Now, some 20 years later, Robinson is glad he paid attention. A member of Judd Apatow's big-screen posse – his scene-stealing turn as a club doorman led to parts in Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story and Pineapple Express – he also has a small-screen following thanks to his deadpan, hilarious appearances as warehouse foreman Darryl Philbin in the American version of The Office.
This week, the 38-year-old Chicago comic can be seen in Hot Tub Time Machine, in which Robinson, along with John Cusack, arrives in 1986 via the titular tub, and after that he'll appear in sure-fire summer hits Shrek Forever After and Will Ferrell's NYPD comedy The Other Guys. But as Robinson admits, this success didn't come overnight, and his shaky start still haunts him.
"I was at a New Year's Eve party," he recalls, "and there was this beautiful girl there. I said, 'I wanna do stand-up,' and one of her friends was like, 'There's an open-mic night on Wednesday. We'll all go.' Wednesday came around, and as I was driving to the club I realised I didn't have any jokes or anything to talk about."
But if you're thinking that the muse must have struck him at the 11th hour, you're wrong: Robinson died on his feet. "After that performance," he says, "there was no rhyme or reason to me ever getting up there again – except that I felt comfortable. I felt weirdly at ease on stage, even though I had nothing to say and I didn't get a laugh." And what about the girl he was trying to impress? "I'm pretty sure I never spoke to her again. I wouldn't have spoke to me after that show."
Craig Robinson as Darryl Philbin in The Office. Photograph: Rex
A decision to incorporate some actual jokes into his routine, delivered with the aid of a Roland JV-30 keyboard, paid off when a comedy talent-search in his native Chicago landed Robinson an appearance on Def Comedy Jam, HBO's boisterous black stand-up showcase. While choosing material for his TV debut was easy ("The producer told me to bring my best seven minutes; I only had seven minutes"), presenting his poker-faced act to the show's notoriously rowdy audience proved more daunting.
"It was extremely intimidating," admits Robinson. "Especially considering my style – just, you know, laying a joke out. I was relatively clean at that time, and Def Jam was mostly high-energy acts. So I was coming in with the whole reverse of that, sitting still at a keyboard, and I had no idea how they'd react. I did really well, but I didn't have a manager or an agent or a publicist, so I didn't know how to follow up and I kind of disappeared for a minute."
After a fondly remembered stint as a music teacher, Robinson finally broke through with a guest slot on HBO's Real Time show, invited by host Bill Maher. A role in The Office quickly followed, with Robinson proving so popular that his part was expanded and his character immortalised as a bobblehead doll. "It's cool," he enthuses. " A lot of people are in this game, but many of them don't have their own bobblehead dolls."
Unlike his collectable counterpart, however, you could never accuse Robinson of having a big head. He brushes aside any suggestions that, with his low-key Office antics and, in particular, his turn as Knocked Up's soft-centred bouncer, he's a master of milking small scenes for huge laughs. "I appreciate you saying that, but I don't see it like, 'I got these two minutes – it's on!'" he says.
Hot Tub Time Machine, though, gives the actor ample opportunity to stamp his personality on the gleefully ridiculous proceedings. A scene in which his cuckolded character reunites with his 80s bandmates allows the actor to indulge his musical talents – off screen, he's the frontman and self-professed "weakest member" of The Nasty Delicious, a nine-piece comedy funk outfit – and, of course, the 38-year-old funnyman was no stranger to its fashions, having come of age in the decade that taste forgot. "I had the skinny leather tie and I also had some black leather pants and a red silk shirt," he laughs. "I had the high-top fade. And my hair grows a lot, so my high-top fade was high."
And if he had his own hot tub machine, would he go back and change anything? "I would not get Chlamydia," he offers, that deadpan delivery in full effect. "Nah, let me see … The moment I started slipping and getting out of shape. That was probably in the 90s. I'd go back and be like, 'Hey! Hey! Get back in the gym!'"