Wally Baram knows just how to make you laugh

Actor and writer Wally Baram knows a thing or two about overcompensating. It’s something she did chronically at university (Barnard College, to be precise – she dropped out after a year) before cutting her teeth in stand-up comedy, and later, TV writing (Shrinking, What We Do in the Shadows).

Fitting, then, that the 27 year old’s first screen role should be in a show that’s actually called Overcompensating, Benito Skinner’s A24-produced, biographical comedy about a jock who slowly finds his way out of the closet at university. Wally’s character, Carmen, is key to this process: as she befriends Benny almost immediately, what starts off as a prospective romantic partnership (much to his horror) soon becomes an iron-clad friendship. Carmen should’ve known Benny was gay from the jump, really: his complimentary comments about Lorde’s songwriting abilities were a glaring clue. But she gets there in the end, and that’s what matters.

​“Carmen is very much me: an awkward, frizzy-haired girl from New Jersey who just wants to find her people but can’t quite get it right,” Wally says, calling in from her grandparents’ place in New Jersey. She isn’t quite sure where she’s based these days because she travels so much, but we settle on New York. ​“Carmen can’t speak this fake language everyone else is speaking, so you’re rooting for her, even though she’s kind of failing in her attempt to be a part of something.”

Wally originally came onboard the project as a writer – given the story mirrored her own experience so closely, she knew she had a lot to bring to the table. After a stint in the writer’s room, the casting team asked her to submit a self-tape. ​“It never felt like something that could actually happen,” she says. ​“I’ve been in awe at every step.”

We mentioned this was Wally’s first ever screen role, which isn’t strictly true. ​“My true first role was in a Comedy Central sketch where I had to run and push someone to the ground, and I didn’t know I was supposed to fake it,” she says. ​“So I really pushed them to the ground and everyone was rather upset.” Given that was the extent of her acting career up until this point, she’s done alright for herself.

​“Playing Carmen,” Wally continues, ​“felt like a beautiful, crystallised ode to the person I used to be – the person who was constantly trying to be an inauthentic version of herself and never getting rewarded. It was cathartic, and now I have closure.”

You’re a seasoned TV writer. What was your trajectory up until Overcompensating?

I started out back when everyone and their mother was trying to create a streaming service. Snapchat and YouTube were doing narrative content – they were all hiring really green, non union writers that were willing to work really hard and pump a lot of stuff out. That’s kind of what I was doing, and it’s where I learned not to be precious about my writing. I also learned things like how not to run a writer’s room before I learned how to do it. From there, I was fortunate to get reps and then work my way up under some really great people that had a really strong understanding of the creative process.

How did your friendship with Benny develop?

He’s a really remarkable person. Genuinely, even if we were off the record, I can’t say a bad word about that guy. He’s so impressive as a friend, a boss and a creative, and you never get all three. He always has the energy to be your friend, he always has the professionalism to be your boss, and he always has the openness to be creative. He’s deeply inspiring and skilled. I’ve worked on a couple of first season shows, and show creators can be so precious because they’re praying the concept will work. But Benny trusted everyone, which was flabbergasting, because it was a level of comfort that felt like it came from someone who had done this before. Our friendship, as a result, developed a lot like you see on screen. I felt like I was always very much a part of the crowd and comfortable, like Benny really saw me, and I am very grateful for that.

When did you first realise you were funny?

In high school. I was chronically shy, and I participated in a public speaking programme, where I was somehow able to make things really funny. I was like, wow, I love this! I felt empowered. As a socially anxious person it was a rewarding way of engaging with other people, feeling heard, and expressing myself.

What was your most excruciating uni experience?

I struggled socially, and I thought that if I could provide a service to others, I could ingratiate myself. I went to college in New York and it is so hard to get a fake ID, so I thought if I brewed beer that everyone would like me. Which is crazy, because it’s not like I can brew beer, but I bought this giant, jug-like thing and went on a chemistry wholesale website and got tubes and a loft chamber. And so I tried to brew beer in our common room, and it just turned into this heinously stanky jug. It was so smelly and I kept it in my closet. Everyone would come into my room and be like, why does it smell like yoghurt? When I tried to have a sip in the common room, the jug was so heavy that it spilled all over the floor and I got into a ton of trouble for like, having beer, but not drinking beer. I don’t even think it was fermented alcohol. It was yeasty soup.

What would you tell your college self now?

It’s so hard because I was so miserable, but everything got me to where I am now, and I’m really grateful for my journey. I probably could have done without some of the romantic encounters, though. I should’ve figured out how to be a single girl. It’s okay to be alone, lady! That’s what I’d say. And I think that’s in some ways, you know, Carmen thinks that her value is greatest romantically, and that was definitely something that I struggled with. I had a great pet snake at the time – Goose. So maybe I’d tell my college self to just hang out with her more. Saturdays are for Goose, okay?

What makes good stand-up?

I can’t say what it is to other people. I can say for me, my stand-up is best when I’m able to express myself, basically. When it comes from the most individual place, that’s when my stand-up feels good, even if I’m being a little gremlin.