Aiming to provide Soundgarden-level alternative comedy at indie-rock prices, stumpy psycho-liberal Patton Oswalt hitched three fellow comics to an RV and hit the gas pedal, documentary crew in tow. They toured under the quotidian titular moniker, which somehow beat out “The Rodney Kings of Comedy.” Brian Posehn, Mr. Show alum and a regular on Just Shoot Me, is the homely, self-deprecating metal dork; that he’s married to an attractive woman is one of the film’s better jokes. Maria Bamford is no Sarah Silverman—and this movie has nothing on the spectacle of Jesus Is Magic—but her impeccable imitations are more spot-on than grating. Zach Galifianakis, a bard of non sequiturs, is the pearl, though. His conceptual, piano-driven “routines” are the Un Chien Andalou of the comedy circuit. (His failed VH1 show played like Matthew Barney hosting Letterman.) Like any concert film, The Comedians of Comedy only works when the subjects are onstage. Watching the quartet doing laundry, playing arcade games, or getting haircuts evokes the banality of road life far too accurately, and at 105 minutes, the film hardly leaves us wanting more. But if Zach’s unpublished script Schindler’s List 2: Let’s Get This Party Started ever gets produced, that’ll be an event.