Fame can be a walk through a carnival fun house: for a short time, the world consists of laughs, haze, glamor and sparkle. But before you know it, you’re back out in the harsh daylight, the door slams behind you and disillusionment sets in.  – by Melanie McFarland
 

That cold realization destroys many hopeful actors, but not Margaret Cho, a comic who enjoyed a wild ride to fame with her short-lived ABC sitcom, “All-American Girl.” She’s also had a fair share of film roles, including a part in John Woo’s smash “Face/Off.” Cho’s brief, heady romance with fame left her hungry, even after Hollywood stopped returning her calls. This isn’t to say that it is easy to recover from having the wind knocked out of her, particularly after the cancellation of “All-Amer-ican Girl.” In the years that followed the sitcom’s demise, the cutting-edge comedienne says she found herself in a dark place. “My life was in a turmoil,” Cho admitted in a recent interview. “I had a really hard time after the show, a really rough four years, and there were a lot of reasons externally for that, and internally.” Without missing a beat, she dis-plays the honest, sharp candor that gives her comedy bite: “I had a really bad problem with alcohol and drugs, which you can have in Hollywood and survive.” Survive she did. At 30, with a year’s sobriety in her grasp, the woman once known for being a youthful ingenue is smarter and more in control of her life than she’s ever been. She’s rebuilding her career, focusing on her stand-up, film roles and hoping for a return to TV. When Cho unveils her latest routine at Giggles Comedy Club Friday and Saturday, fans will be introduced to a cheerier version of her stand-up – a small adjustment from the bitter, brash humor that remains her calling card. “What I’m doing is more life-affirming and happier,” she said. “It’s not as sick and sad as it used to be.” Cho still pulls jokes out of hard places. Before, she laughed about her body image and how it didn’t fit into the cultural norm. Talked about strad dling her Korean-American heritage, with her traditional parents on one side and a culturally confused, P.C.-strangled public on the other. She still does, but now she weaves her routine with stories about sobriety. “If you’re going to be an alcoholic, you should be a comedian because it’s just awesome,” she joked. “My life was really crazy. And even though it was really fun, and really wild, and I got to do some really crazy things people only dream about, it was really an empty life. I wasn’t happy with what I was doing, I wasn’t happy with my work, I was really freaked out, and I didn’t have a really strong sense of myself or any confidence.” Cho credits her youthful fearlessness for helping her jump into stand-up at a small club above her parents’ bookstore in San Francisco. She said her comedic leanings were revolutionary for someone of her heritage. “What I do is kind of against the notion of what Korean women are supposed to be like. You’re really not supposed to talk about personal things, and that’s what my whole thing is about ... because my life is really like a carnival.” Other gigs at clubs such as the Improv and the Punchline followed. Soon Cho became one of the most recognized comedians on the college circuit. An ensuing stint on “Star Search” resulted in cable and broadcast television specials and a small feature film role in Geena Davis’ film “Angie.” Then, at 25, Cho was set to star in “All-American Girl.” Borrowing from her stand-up routine, the plot portrayed the humorous struggles of a Korean-American “valley girl” trying to negotiate her parents’ world and that of her American friends. This was where Cho’s life became a distorted, fun-house mirror image. The show was the first focusing upon an Asian family, with a mostly Asian cast, and expectations were high. Many times, so was she, she admitted. Every newspaper wanted to talk to her. The hype machine was in overdrive, and Cho, who marveled at seeing her face on a huge billboard during a press junket, became the subject of much scrutiny. That distortion soon warped “All-American Girl,” Cho believes. Writers struggled to make it “genuinely Korean” while not offending any-one, and diluted the humor. Network officials attacked Cho’s weight as critics panned the show and cast. Cancellation was inevitable, and soon the young sitcom star was struggling for work in a town that quickly forgot her name. “Fame, in itself, is a drug, too. And when you’re jonesing for it, it’s the worst feeling in the world. I think that I just really was not ready to do the show initially, but I learned from it ... Nobody knows what they’re doing but the artist. The whole experience helped me trust myself.” It’s been a four-year struggle to reach recovery, both in life and in her career. But Cho is still very much in the game. In addition to numerous film roles, including the yet-to-be-released “Can’t Stop Dancing” with Janeane Garofalo and “Fakin’ Da Funk” with Pam Grier, Cho is co-writing a stage piece called “The Energy Club” with Karen Kilgariff, who opens at her Seattle appearance. If it’s successful, Cho plans to pitch it for a television run. Even if a network doesn’t pick it up, it won’t faze her. Cho is finding her unadulterated reality far too intoxicating to give up. “I think what I do every day in my work is constant rebellion ... and exhilarating.”•