in

Best Comedy of 2023: Jim Gaffigan, Beth Stelling and More

It’s time to stop taking Jim Gaffigan for granted, and more surprising takeaways from specials, stand-up sets and other funny moments this year.

Comedy didn’t boom or bust this year. It sprawled. There seemed to be many more specials than ever, most self-released. Yet Netflix still reigned, dominating the conversation with event specials from John Mulaney and Chris Rock. Twitter (now X) became old news for jokes, while TikTok and Instagram bustled with young performers. Here are a few highlights.

It’s easy to take Jim Gaffigan for granted. His consistency can become boring, and his interests (food, religion) tend not to draw headlines. Over the years, he’s been pigeonholed as the clean comic or the Hot Pockets one (because of a signature bit). But while he’s not flashy, each year he gets a little better, figuring out new challenges that fit his everyman aesthetic. With his 10th special, “Dark Pale” on Prime Video, his comedy has become so skillful, varied and pleasingly prickly that it demands closer attention. Leveraging his benign dad persona, he paints a scathing portrait of our culture post-pandemic that makes you laugh at our cruelty, haplessness and delusions.

Beth Stelling is a meticulous professional in “If You Didn’t Want Me Then.”Netflix

“You have to be careful with pedophilia,” Beth Stelling says in her wry new hour, “If You Didn’t Want Me Then” on Netflix, pausing for a precise beat, “because you catch it just by touching a kid.” After this risky joke, she picks up a cup of tea and sips, daintily. Then she sticks her pinkie out, as if she’s a member of the royal family. It’s one of many small perfect moments in her comedy, which can be as warm and loving as it is crass and ruthless, that reveals her as a meticulous professional in her prime.

It’s exciting to come across a comic who resists comparisons. In his fascinating special “The Domino Effect Part 2: Loss,” on YouTube, Ali Siddiq tells childhood stories with a jaunty delivery that has a different pace than anyone else’s. Is he even a comic? He’s telling high-stakes, dramatic tales of heartbreak and run-ins with the police, but with the lightness and ease of someone just filling you in about their day. Sad and thrilling, odd and straightforward, rambling and intentional, these are yarns that grab your attention, then toy with it.

John Early (with Will Lawrence) mixes satire and cover songs in “Now More Than Ever.”HBO

John Early is a forerunner of, and the gold standard for, the fashionable genre of musical comedians (Catherine Cohen, Caitlin Cook, Sophie Zucker, Leo Reich) parodying millennial and Gen Z vanity. His long-awaited special, “Now More Than Ever” (on Max), is a mix of stylish satire, soulful cover songs and occasional observational humor. At its high point, he takes a conventional premise, about how Apple manipulates users to collect their data, and transforms the idea into a comic tour de force centered on the ugly phrase “Ask app not to track.” He repeats it so memorably that it’s been lodged in my brain ever since.

Like many funny duos, April Clark and Grace Freud of Girl God look and sound nothing alike — one a lanky slacker, the other a more fiery baritone — but they riff so effortlessly that they seem to merge. In videos announcing themselves as joke writers for Dave Chappelle or in shows raging sarcastically about their Uber driver asking how they are (“Google: The news”), they favor fabrication and transgression, accumulating momentum out of pingpong conversation more than conventional jokes.

Even an act-out is haunted by death in Marc Maron’s special “From Bleak to Dark.”Oluwaseye Olusa/HBO

What would suicide by bat look like? Only a comedian would think long and hard on the subject. In “From Bleak to Dark” (Max), Marc Maron imagines it as pitiful, anguished and riotously comic. This act-out, coming at the end of a special haunted by death, operates like the scene in Hunter S. Thompson’s book on the Hells Angels in which Thompson, after spending months hanging out with the biker gang, describes getting beat up by them. It’s a perverse catharsis.

The arch-elitist Dan Rosen has created his own critical beat on Instagram, doing stylish and ruthless insult comedy on tasteless interior design, hack décor and shallow architecture. Projecting his face over photos of celebrity homes, he displays an acute eye for overdone trends (anyone with a green kitchen should be ashamed) and a knack for the perfect put-down (“the granny couch”). He compares Chris Brown’s floors to a bowling ball, then says: “I would say it’s the worst crime he ever committed” before a pause.

“I moved to America this year,” Sophie Buddle said at the start of her “Tonight Show” set in April. “I wanted to see it before it ends.” Then she sucked in her bottom lip and giggled. This chirpy, comic maintains a steady nervous chuckle while joking about masturbation and annoying Los Angeles types. But she knows what she’s doing, finding fresh spins on familiar subjects. She is part of a long line of cheerfully raunchy young comics, and her sneaky jokes are full of sharp elbows. When talking about the United States, there’s pity in her voice that feels like revenge for so many years of American comic condescension toward our northern neighbor.

In a short Netflix set commemorating the 60th anniversary of the Improv club, Deon Cole lays into how comics repeatedly ask audiences to do things like “give it up for the ladies.” Looking besieged, he says, “Got me wasting my claps.”

Upon hearing that familiar sound during his recent hour, Joe Pera responded in a deadpan, “You just ruined my life,” then kept it moving.

That the John Mulaney special “Baby J” (on Netflix) manages to live up to expectations is a feat, considering he addresses his much-publicized stint in rehab and, less so, his equally talked-about divorce. His re-creation of his star-studded intervention shows off a multitude of niche accents. And yet, he gets the biggest laughs going broad and traditional with his Al Pacino take. One distinctive voice nails another.

Diana Morgan as Philomena Cunk in “Cunk on Earth.”Jonathan Browning/Netflix

In the grand British tradition of Alan Partridge and Borat, Diane Morgan’s long-running character, Philomena Cunk, finds laughs through the bloviating of a self-assured idiot. Her comic documentary series, “Cunk on Earth” (on Netflix), finds her in tasteful clothes, inside museums and outside ruins, asking intellectuals questions like, “Is there a great roof of China?”

A highly competitive category. Never have there been more funny people putting out specials on this platform. Django Gold’s folksy screwball jokes, Chase O’Donnell’s deliriously ditsy act, Seaton Smith’s sneaky Madison Square Garden show and Joe List’s hilariously straining efforts to prove that he is fun are highlights. But Nathan Macintosh’s “Money Never Wakes” stands out for its exasperated comic laments about the cocooned lives of the 1 percent. His jokes are tightly constructed, and what makes them sing is his nervy voice, which starts to squeak when he gets worked up, almost as if the sound is coming from a record speeding up.

Gary Gulman’s new special, “Born on Third Base” (due Dec. 21), is filled with the intricate, language-drunk jokes that have built him into a critical darling. This is his most political and pointed work, focusing on the inequities of class. He uses many subjects to illustrate his point (his take on dentistry is very funny) including the disparity in comedy, with Jerry Seinfeld as an example of the elite. Gulman’s consideration of Seinfeld’s wealth will get attention, but what stands out more is his strong series of jokes on Pop-Tarts, a subject Seinfeld has owned for years and is making a movie about for Netflix.

If the next David Lynch comes from TikTok, where a Dada aesthetic reigns in many of the short comic videos, keep an eye on Savannah Moss, a cheerful young Arizona absurdist who is just getting started. She produces, edits and stars in cartoonishly bizarre videos featuring milk spilling from the sky, goofy puns, jump scares and prop humor, along with Moss herself leaping and spinning in the air for no reason. She calls these quick hits of nonsense fever dreams, and they resist logic, though they have circular narratives that work well on repeat. And while these bits remain raw, watching her slowly but prolifically develop a distinctive handmade visual vocabulary gives me hope for this digital medium.

Source: Television - nytimes.com


Tagcloud:

BBC Breakfast’s Jon Kay compares presenter shake-up to ‘speed dating’ as co-star missing

Amazon Neighbours’ Toadie and Melanie ‘likely’ to get back together in dramatic twist