How I got my comedy superpower

Growing up, I lived in Walt Disney Village. My father worked for Hilton for 41 years and, for much of that time, he was a general manager, required to live on-site with his family. 

I’m a commercial director, mostly in comedy, and I wouldn’t do what I do if I had grown up any other way. In essence, I grew up on a set that never wrapped.

Every day, I’d walk through the conference centre on my way to the school bus. Every day there’d be a new group of people: Nabisco conventioneers, American Football Coaches of America, Lockheed Martin, and sometimes a junior beauty pageant, all of whom would wonder if I was lost. 

I grew up on a set that never wrapped.

When I got home, I’d head to the arcade. There, with the help of a butter knife, I’d pry tokens out of jammed-up arcade machines. If there were tourist kids around, I’d try to sell them six tokens for a dollar. To note, I wasn’t hustling them, that was a fair deal. 

Above: A young David Shafei 

Besides those tourist kids, there were few children around. It sounds lonely, but everybody wants to be the hotel boy’s friend. At a young age, I figured out who liked me and who liked the Olympic-sized pool and room service sundaes. It helped that my dad was unintentionally intimidating. To kids, he was like an Arab Darth Vader. He didn’t mean to scare them but, once, he made one of my friends cry simply by offering him another helping of his homemade chili. 

The fact that my normal was different from everyone else’s ultimately became the foundational element of my work as a director.

All of it was normal to me. And the fact that my normal was different from everyone else’s ultimately became the foundational element of my work as a director, an altered view on the world that was never intentional - it just was. It’s how I see things, a point of view that I find to be an asset. 

I would observe the tourists to see how other people lived their everyday lives and learn how I could be more like them. But - try as they might - a Disney vacation in Orlando, Florida, is nobody’s 'normal'. I observed that vacation can bring out the best and worst in people. The pressure of having a good time combined with the heat, the lines, and the sugar creates a heady blend that can jack people up - kind of like commercial production. 

Above: Shafei and his dad, the hotel's General Manager who was, says Shafei, "like an Arab Darth Vader".

My philosophy as a comedy director came from observing these 'normal people' in and around Disney World. For example, I’d see a kid who should be smiling, hiding under the table so that Goofy doesn’t notice them. Inevitably, when Goofy came over, it would set off the kid’s mom, who’d start arguing with the dad about the camera he left in the hotel room, who’d then start yelling at his teenage daughter to go up to the room and grab the aforementioned camera. Then the daughter would start yelling at her brother for hiding under the table and making her go upstairs in the first place. Suddenly, it’s World War III, all because Goofy showed up. Hilarious. 

“Why is this happening? Why does Goofy scare this kid? Why does this kid’s parents want to capture his terror on film?” 

Conflict is comedy. My favourite thing to do when making a comedy spot is to create a backstory for every character: a reason for them to be there, to be at odds, cheerful or in a hurry, distracted or desperate. I use that story to inform the actor’s performance, influencing the comedy. 

“Why is this happening? Why does Goofy scare this kid? Can Goofy read social cues? Can Goofy move away from this table? Why does this kid’s parents want to capture his terror on film?” 

I made an IHOP spot with Droga5 years back about a wanderer who finds a fork in the road and must choose between an omelet or pancakes. I made the comedy of that moment work by telling the actor that it was really about making the impossible choice to go one direction to save the love of his life or go the other to save a family member. It seems ridiculous out of context but the right actor, with the proper context, can make something genuinely absurd from that. Absurdism works best when something silly is endowed with real-life high stakes that can tear a man in two. Thanks, Goofy. 

Above: Shafei's exposure to and study of peoples' behaviour while living at the Disney Hilton helped him when prepping actors for his commercials. 

Often, we only see these people on screen for five or six seconds. The more complete we can make their presence, the richer their relationships with the other characters can become, the more memorable the spot will be. Viewers connect first with the people in your spot. It doesn’t matter how clever or beautifully crafted the work is; if, at the centre of your project, is a premise riding on the shoulders of an actor who can’t connect to the stakes, the spot won’t connect. People watch people and check in with them for permission to laugh at the joke. 

A hotel runs like a production; there are different departments that come together to create the guest experience. It’s difficult for that experience to be great if one of those departments is off.

Growing up at the Disney World Hilton also gave me a genuine appreciation for the team, a virtue I try to bring to set. As a kid, I was surrounded by hotel staff, who were an incredible group of people from all over the world. Starting at 15, I worked at the hotel as a pool attendant, babysitter, bartender, short order cook, banquet server.... you name it, I did it. 

A hotel runs like a production; there are different departments with different roles that all come together to create the guest experience. It’s difficult for that experience to be great if one of those departments is off, or neglected. The hotel I grew up in worked because everybody cared and worked hard. So, I arrived at my career in production with a true respect for each department’s contributions. I learned early on that you have to listen to people and respect their opinions and expertise.