Wearing a bow tie, handkerchief, crop top and shorts, Jenny Slate stands on a shiny circular platform on the dilapidated stage of the BAM Harvey Theater. It’s a picture stuffed with sharp contrasts, the type present in her comedy, during which common themes are imbued with a maniacal, absurdist charisma. Her relatable version asks, “You know that one feeling when you know you’re going to die?”
While her debut special had documentary elements, this hour effectively captures the improvisational eccentricity of her live performances. Slate is blessed with a spectacularly agile, comic voice. She’s also a deft physical comedian, and her best roles showcase each qualities. When attempting to describe the strangeness of childbirth, he compares it to the discomfort of being asked to audition for the role of the evil clown Pennywise. Shocked, she expresses her shame at being considered for the role, waving her arms and looking out embarrassed (“It can’t be a murderer, a kidnapping, and a balding clown, right?”), making a terrifying impression of the character, and a producers’ meeting that led to the creation of this offer. It’s a screaming, sputtering display of kvetching that creates uncontrollable comic momentum.
Dan Soder, “On the Road”
(Youtube)
While most specials are too long, this one, at 39 minutes, is good. Strong, distracting, diverse, it’s the right lunch snack. Dressed in clothes as casual as his delivery, Dan Soder presents himself as a laid-back guy who desires to please people, the kind of guy who targets a selected kind of idiot. As he puts it, he desires to see the trailer for the brand new Fast and Furious movie and be shocked that they found a option to go faster. But do not be fooled: its lightness requires quite a lot of effort. His comedic toolkit is filled with sharp impressions (Batman villain Enrique Iglesias), melancholic notes and clever phrasing. In a story illustrating the childhood joy of swearing, he utters this line with a real (and absurd) sense of nostalgia: “I was 8 years old and I just got out swearing.”
Cara Connors is a queer comic book story about millennials whose debut time shifts from divorcing a person to a really funny depiction of lesbian breakups (many thanks from either side). He says he’s afraid to get up, open his phone and see the message: “Elon Musk is bisexual.” Her face darkens. “Now I have to welcome him to the community?” Then he imagines the headline along with his own hands: “Jeff Bezos, Gender Fluid.” He bursts out in a baritone voice: “I can’t do this.” Connors appears to be searching for reasons to lose track. That’s where it is the funniest. Stalking across the stage with “the energy of a wedding mom who’s had too much to drink,” she offers a number of of the obligatory jokes (just like the opening of Standup 101’s analogy to how she looks to others: “I know I look like if they would let Timothée Chalamet start eating again ”) and a pair that ends when they should be building. However, he makes up for the rawness of his joke writing with his crazy charm and powerful voice that goes from giggling to laid back and demonic in the blink of an eye. It’s a promising debut.
Tig Notaro “Welcome Back”
he brought one into something special, as a type of joke to lift expectations. Rory Scovelwho has a brand new special on HBO Max, he used to do guy impression who can’t play the piano he rented to play in the hotel lobby, struggles. Notaro also dabbles in the comedy of make-believe, but as she rushes to the keyboard, in the middle of a story about volunteering to perform an Adele song at a party Adele is attending, her version is about the comedy of confidence when you shouldn’t have none. This fits her gift for weathering awkward situations with unfazed seriousness.
She has used this to take big swings previously, and each experimental and more personal. This special requires a more modest effort, and her personal anecdotes can’t help but name-call now that she’s more famous. At its center are embarrassing stories, such as a misunderstanding at a meeting with Reese Witherspoon or an awkward moment with a physical therapist, anecdotes that she twists into comic vignettes told from different perspectives. Her delivery is characterized by a pleasant calm that stands out in the scene of restless hams. But it can also be a little too loose, even underdeveloped. While playing the piano, he says, “That feels like something.” If you try hard enough, you’ll hear it.
David Cross “Worst Dad within the World”
(Youtube)
In his best stand-up since the Bush-era albums, David Cross dryly rages against rich kids, American Christians, and the Florida laws that prompted a textbook publisher to remove race from a lesson on Rosa Parks. His alternate history of how Florida taught about the assassination of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or about the Holocaust, is wonderful, over-the-top political humor that is in the tradition of George Carlin’s mocking euphemism. Cross is a consummate and funny hater, baroque, inventive and righteous. You’ll never think he doesn’t mean it – or that he’s been doing something for a while. And he does not spare himself contempt. He happily plays a jerk, calling his wife “my current wife” and getting defensive when anyone might object. (That’s accurate!)
What also distinguishes Cross from most political comics is his commitment to taking risks with form, playing with convention in his stand-up, just as he once did in the case of sketches for “Mr. Show.” He has a joke where he removes the punch line, and another one so esoteric that he pauses the show to give people a chance to understand. Some people won’t. But he doesn’t seem to mind.
Dave Attell, “Hot Cross Buns”
(Netflix)
“What does real loneliness appear to be?” – asks Dave Attell in his famous raspy voice. “I’ll tell you,” he says, building tension. “Your own reflection in the microwave door.” It’s a joke that reminds us that Attell is not only the quintessential New York club comic and a master of the pithy, dirty joke, but also has the soul of a grizzled emo singer. It’s been ten years since he released a stand-up special, much of it narrating his polished material in dark basements. If you want to hear a wonderfully melancholy joke about a Subway sandwich maker in the comfort of your own home, you’re in luck.
