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    Four Specials Take Outdoor Comedy in Unexpected Directions

    Vir Das, Brian Regan, Erica Rhodes and Ester Steinberg each find new ways to make a virtue out of the necessity of performing al fresco in a pandemic.Laughter doesn’t echo off clouds. That’s the first challenge of outdoor comedy. According to common wisdom, the ideal conditions for stand-up — small dark room, low ceiling — are pretty much the opposite of al fresco comedy. There was actually a history of such performing, before the pandemic, with its own street-comedy legends. But in the past year, a niche became mainstream, and now, there’s a new genre of special, tried by Chelsea Handler, Colin Quinn and others. Four more funny comedians have recently gotten laughs taking the special outside, and considering the loosening of rules for indoor performance, they could also be the last of their kind.Vir Das, ‘Ten on Ten’Stream it on YouTubeNo artist embodies the globalization of stand-up over the past decade like Vir Das, the prolific Indian comic currently shooting a new Judd Apatow comedy. This role might be a breakout if Das hadn’t already broken. With six specials and nearly 8 million Twitter followers, Das is a massive star, just not yet in America. But his savvy, charismatic comedic style seems perfectly suited to cross cultures. In videos shot in a forest in the southwest of India, he has been releasing chunks of jokes monthly this year (he took a break in April for filming). Each takes on a meaty subject big enough to be of interest across the world (religion, freedom of speech, the relationship between East and West).He’s quick to tie together different cultures, making connections, for instance, between supporters of Trump, Brexit and the Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi. But this sprawling ambition doesn’t lead him to make the mistake of avoiding specificity. His comedy is filled with references to Indian culture that I didn’t understand, but he manages to explain quickly or provide enough context for me to appreciate the joke.You don’t need to have seen a speech by Modi to find Das’s imitation of his speaking style funny. Das is particularly sharp on accents throughout the world and their meaning, perhaps second only to Trevor Noah, another digitally savvy comic who’s adept at jokes that span continents. Poking fun at how Indians adopt American or British accents, Das points out that they never pick up German or Mexican ones, joking that Indians are “aspirational” in their accents. But his local jabs lead to a larger critique of the West. After a reference to Harry Potter, he points out that the books are popular in India. “We love British magic here,” he says. “Remember that trick where they made all our resources disappear?”Brian Regan, ‘On the Rocks’Stream it on NetflixRegan specializes in escapist observational humor.Leavitt Wells/NetflixAt the start of his latest special, the venerable stand-up Brian Regan draws attention to his suddenly gray hair. “Covid hit,” he said. “I went into hibernation and came out a senior citizen.” And that is the last topical note of this finely crafted hour of minor-key observational jokes. Regan has always been good at escapist observational humor, and he doubles down on lightweight fun, exploring standard subjects like animals, food and language. (“Orchestra pit. Those words don’t belong together.”) There’s one elaborate, standout bit about his O.C.D., but his work is far from personal. It’s old-school joke-telling, with broad mugging and utilitarian transitions (“I like words”). And while he’s outdoors with a masked crowd, the sound design and camerawork do not emphasize anything different from a prepandemic show.Many will find something refreshing about entertainment that feels from another, more carefree time. Regan (who contracted Covid-19 in December) is the rare comic who regularly tells jokes you will have no trouble letting your quarantined kids overhear. His rhythm is most similar to that of Jay Leno from the 1980s, and while they both are workaholics, Regan has proved more consistent. It’s easy for the casual observer to overlook the considerable technical prowess that Regan has honed over decades (his patience with setups, the spot-on word choice). Even with his clowning physicality, eyes popping, darting, brows raising, he makes stand-up look effortless.Erica Rhodes, ‘La Vie en Rhodes’Stream it on Apple TVRhodes finds the humor in malaise, an incongruity that holds promise.Comedy DynamicsA honking car is one of the ugliest sounds of everyday life. We’ve been conditioned to associate it with anxiety, error, even danger. Expecting it to stand in for laughter at a comedy show is like replacing kisses with coughs and hoping romance will continue just fine. So pity comics like Erica Rhodes who have been making the most of performing at drive-in theaters. “The good news is the numbers are finally going down,” she says in her intermittently amusing hour, holding the beat before the punchline, “Of people pursuing their dreams.”Rhodes makes comedy out of malaise, plastering on a smile after jokes about depression, horrible dates and the disappointment of having one towel in your 30s. There’s a tension in this incongruity that makes for a promising stand-up persona. But too many of her more ambitious bits, like the one about dating online, seem unfinished, starting strong, gaining momentum, then petering out casually. In some cases, it’s the reverse. She has a very sharp bit about how ending digital conversations these days results in an arms race of emojis that frustrates everyone. But she starts with a sentence about the end of the period that doesn’t entirely land. It’s a good joke looking for a better setup.Ester Steinberg, ‘Burning Bush’Rent or buy it on AmazonThe new special is a breakthrough for Ester Steinberg.Comedy DynamicsIn her persistently funny new special, Ester Steinberg declares that she found the perfect guy, before listing the three things he has that she’s always wanted: He’s tall, he’s Jewish and he has a dead mom. It’s one of many new spins on old Jewish jokes in a set that represents a breakthrough for this skilled comic. It’s notable less for the freshness of the content (weddings, motherhood, strip clubs) than for the giddy gusto of its delivery.Steinberg, who gave birth only six weeks before shooting this special, has been a charismatic sparkplug of a comic for years, but there’s a nimbleness here that is the work of someone who has come into her own. Layering jokes within jokes (at the same drive-in where Rhodes performed), she gets laughs without wasting words, veering from a flamboyant whine to vocal fry to deadpan dry. Her physicality somehow manages to evoke Bill Burr and Kate Berlant. She weaves in references to the pandemic without derailing her mischievous spirit and defuses the ridiculousness of performing for cars right away. “I’ve been doing comedy for many years,” she says, “and I finally realized my fan base is Kias.” Then after some honks and laughter, she turns to the audience and says with a straight face: “This car knows what I’m talking about.” More

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    Performing Arts Make a Cautious Return in New York

    More than a year after the pandemic abruptly shuttered theaters and concert halls across the city, limited audiences were welcomed back inside.The days are getting longer. The sun is out. The number of vaccinated New Yorkers continues to grow every day.And now, more than a year after the coronavirus pandemic suddenly brought down the curtain at theaters and concert halls across the city, darkening Broadway and comedy clubs alike, the performing arts are beginning to bounce back.Like budding flowers awakening just in time for spring, music, dance, theater and comedy began a cautious return this past week as venues were allowed reopen with limited capacity — in most cases, for the first time since March 2020.Many did.Audiences came back, too. With face coverings and health questionnaires, they returned to an Off Broadway theater in Union Square, streamed into the Comedy Cellar in Greenwich Village and took in live music at the Shed. Broadway was lit up again with the dancer Savion Glover and the actor Nathan Lane performing inside the St. James Theater; the Green Room 42 hosted cabaret; Jerry Seinfeld did stand-up in Chelsea. And more events, including a concert by New York Philharmonic musicians that will inaugurate Lincoln Center’s outdoor programming, are coming soon.At the Shed, people who came for a concert by Kelsey Lu avoided the lobby and entered from doors leading directly into the McCourt space.Dina Litovsky for The New York TimesBut the pandemic remains unwieldy in New York, and across the country. New York City is still a coronavirus hot spot, with new cases holding stubbornly at around 25,000 a week. Alongside a rush to vaccinate, variants persist. And at least one set of performances have already been postponed because of positive tests.All of which leaves arts institutions seeking to strike a delicate balance between persistent public health concerns and the desire to serve wearied New Yorkers eager for a sense of normalcy.Reporters from The New York Times visited some of the first indoor performances, and spoke with the pioneering audience members and staff who took them in. Here is what they saw.March 31Dance at the GuggenheimThe group Masterz at Work Dance Family performed in the Guggenheim Museum’s rotunda, for an audience spread out along the museum’s spiraling ramp.Dina Litovsky for The New York TimesIsaac Alexander, 25, was walking to the Guggenheim Museum on a drizzly Wednesday evening with headphones in, dancing to the beat of Byrell the Great’s “Vogue Workout Pt. 5” and casually voguing as he passed apartment buildings on the Upper East Side.He was on his way to support a friend in Masterz at Work Dance Family, a performance group led by Courtney ToPanga Washington, a trans-femme choreographer from the ballroom scene. Once Alexander reached the museum, he was directed into the Guggenheim’s rotunda and shown a spot to stand along its spiral ramp. Like other audience members he was masked, and was asked to leave immediately after the show as a safety measure.“You can take any venue, put a stage in it, invite people, and you can make it a ball,” said Alexander, an artist who dances in the ballroom scene himself.The dancers quarantined together for two weeks to prepare the performance, which was presented by the Works & Process series.Dina Litovsky for The New York TimesThe show — a fusion of street dance, ballroom, and hip-hop — was allowed in the rotunda after the state had inspected it and given the Works & Process series a special dispensation to hold socially distanced performances there. The cast of nine, along with Washington, had spent two weeks in a quarantine bubble together in upstate New York, their housing, meals and coronavirus testing paid for while they rehearsed.With a pounding beat in the background, the dancers moved through intricate formations, some waiting on the outskirts as solos and duets took the spotlight. There was popping and locking, pirouetting, somersaulting, duck walking (a low, bouncing walk) and cat walking (a stylized walk with popped hips and dropped shoulders) in exacting synchronicity.Looking down from his perch, Alexander cheered the dancers on through the 30-minute work. He said that he had not seen a show since January 2020, before the pandemic shutdown. As an artist who gets ideas from watching his peers, he felt joy at the sight of a live performance.“Now that we’re opening back up, I feel my wings coming back,” he said. “The inspiration is coming back.” JULIA JACOBSApril 2A Sound Show Off BroadwayAt the Daryl Roth Theater, seats were arranged in socially distant pairs for an immersive audio adaptation of the novel “Blindness.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIt was the middle of the afternoon on a Friday, an unusual time for a show but nonetheless the opening of “Blindness,” at the Daryl Roth Theater. Only about 60 people were allowed to attend. Bundled in the parkas, they lined up on the sidewalk along East 15th Street, standing on green dots.Mayor Bill de Blasio arrived, adding an element of pomp to what was otherwise an Off Broadway sound show. Staff members at the theater donned emerald green jackets and matching green face coverings — “Green for go!” one employee said — that hid the smiles their eyes betrayed. For about 10 minutes, the scene near Union Square felt like a cross between a political campaign event and a Hollywood premiere.“This is a really powerful moment,” de Blasio said on the steps of the Daryl Roth’s entrance. “Theater returns to New York City. The curtain goes back up, and something amazing happens.”He and the producer Daryl Roth, the theater’s namesake, greeted patrons waiting to be let inside. A few thanked the mayor for helping ensure that the performing arts return. Some asked for a selfie; others exchanged wrist and elbow bumps. There were theatergoers celebrating birthdays, people eager to post on social media, and one artistic director from San Francisco who had come to do some research on safety for whenever his playhouse reopens.Mayor Bill de Blasio and the theater producer Daryl Roth, behind him in the black coat, greeted audience members as they waited to enter the show.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAs members of the audience entered the theater, they held up their wrists to a machine that checked their temperatures. An usher led them to their seats, which came in pods and were spread out under a maze of fluorescent tubes. Once everyone was settled in, a welcome message sounded from speakers; it was greeted with a cheer.The small crowd took out headphones, from sealed bags hanging on their chairs, and fitted them over their ears. One couple held hands. A man closed his eyes. And “Blindness,” an immersive audio adaptation of the dystopian novel by the Nobel Prize-winning novelist José Saramago, began.For the next 75 minutes, the audience members heard of a city plagued by an epidemic of blindness. For long periods, the people in their seats were plunged into total darkness; but toward the end of the show, there were glimmers of light.“It was bracingly familiar,” Dean Leslie, 58, said after the show. “One of the moments that really resonated with me is now — when I got back on the street.”“It’s poetic,” he added. “It’s is something we’ve all lived. This is something we’ve shared now.” MATT STEVENSApril 2Sets at the Comedy CellarAbout 50 people were allowed inside the Comedy Cellar for its show on Friday. Most of them were 20-somethings who had quickly snapped up tickets online.Jeenah Moon for The New York Times“Make sure they’re practicing social distancing!” one security guard called to another as people descended into the Comedy Cellar’s dimly lit basement.About 50 audience members — a crowd of mostly 20-somethings who were savvy enough to snap up tickets online — settled around their tables for the club’s first live show in over a year.Outside, two 23-year-olds waited on the sidewalk hoping in through the waiting list; they had moved to New York City in the fall and had chosen to live together in the West Village because of the nearby music venues and comedy clubs, none of which they had been able to visit until Friday.John Touhey, 27, who was lucky enough to snag tickets for this first show, said that his reason for coming was simple: “Just to feel something again.”Down in the club, the show’s host, Jon Laster, hopped onstage with a triumphant yell, “Comedy Cellar, how you feelin’?” Some audience members had taken off their masks immediately when they reached their tables; others waited until their food and drinks arrived.The show, hosted by Jon Laster, had an inevitable theme: the pandemic.Jeenah Moon for The New York TimesThe pandemic was an inevitable theme of the night: It had dominated the lives of everyone in the room for the past year. Laster quizzed the mostly white crowd on where they had escaped to during the pandemic months (Kansas City, Mo., Savannah, Ga., Atlanta). As he introduced each comic onto the stage, he unplugged his mic, allowing the performers to insert their clean microphones, whose spherical tops had disposable covers that looked like miniature shower caps.Only a third of the space’s capacity was allowed in, but the small crowd’s laughter filled the room. And the comedians talked to the audience members like they were old friends catching up after a year apart. Gary Vider joked about his new baby; Tom Thakkar recounted his drunken celebrations when President Biden won the election; Colin Quinn wondered why the subway still stank without crowds; and Jackie Fabulous told stories about living with her mother again for the first time in 20 years.Partway through her set, Fabulous paused and took a breath.“I feel the adrenaline,” she said. “It’s finally calming down.” JULIA JACOBSApril 2Music at the ShedAt Kelsey Lu’s concert at the Shed, even the performers were distanced onstage.Dina Litovsky for The New York TimesToward the final third of a performance that had mixed ambient sound, classical cello, operatic vocals, pop music and more, Kelsey Lu emerged in a pink, floral costume and offered a proclamation: “Spring has sprung.”The crowd of about 150 inside the Shed’s airy McCourt space chuckled. And when Lu’s performance was over, audience members did something they have not been able to do indoors for more than a year: They gave a standing ovation.At the Shed, the audience of about 150 entered in timed waves.Dina Litovsky for The New York Times“You could feel it,” said Gil Perez, the Shed’s chief visitor experience officer. “The excitement, the fun, the energy of a live show — there’s nothing like it.”The McCourt, the Shed’s flexible indoor-outdoor venue, touts a cavernous size (17,000-square-feet) and a high-quality air filtration system. Attendees entered from doors that led directly into the space, and their temperatures were checked immediately. Digital programs were summoned on smartphones using a bar code on the arm of the seats, which were arranged in singles and pairs spaced roughly 12 feet from the stage, and six feet or more from one another.Staff checked in the audience with tablets. Ticket holders were required to show proof of vaccination or a negative Covid-19 test; they scrolled through their phones to bring it up. Once cleared, they stepped into a timed-entry line: one for 7:40 p.m., and another for 10 minutes later.“I’m an essential worker,” Roxxann Dobbs, a 37-year-old letter carrier, said as she waited to be let in. “I’ve been working this entire time, so it’s nice to be able to go out and have fun.”Ian Plowman, her husband, added: “I feel like we’re on the edge of the next time in New York, the next period.”Before and after the show, people caught the glances of old friends and stopped by their seats to chat. One woman congratulated another on getting a coronavirus vaccine. A person leaned over to a friend and remarked: “This is so nice!”Alex Poots, the Shed’s artistic director and chief executive, said he got “quite emotional” as the evening came to a close and he thought about Lu’s description of a spring awakening.“Very beautiful,” he said. “I missed this so much.” MATT STEVENSAs a safety measure, microphones at the Comedy Cellar were covered in what looked like little shower caps.Jeenah Moon for The New York Times More

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    A Stand-Up Set at the Swipe of a MetroCard

    For about three months, an Upper West Side comedy club has been organizing Saturday-night shows on the 1 train.Rachel Lander, a Brooklyn stand-up comedian, was in the middle of a joke about the 2020 presidential election — her audience’s ears perked for the punchline — when the train reached its final stop.“I’ll finish this later,” Lander said into the mic. “We need to transfer.”Six comedians, a comedy club booker and eight audience members disembarked from the downtown 1 train and walked down the platform like schoolchildren on a field trip to the aquarium. As they passed people waiting for their trains, heads turned toward the group — a strangely boisterous one for a mid-pandemic Saturday night. Two M.T.A. workers glanced at each other quizzically but didn’t ask questions.When the group reached the last car of the uptown train, they piled in and arranged themselves as before: a comic standing at one end of the car, mic in hand and portable speaker on the floor, and the audience seated nearby.“All right, I’m going to finish that story about the election,” Lander said as the passengers settled in.The Stand Up NY group heading to the show, a.k.a. the subway, starting at the 72nd Street station on the 1 line.Adam Powell for The New York TimesFor about three months, New York’s comics had been preparing sets to perform Saturday nights on the 1 train. It may not have been the most glamorous of gigs, but as a comic joked last Saturday, at least it was cleaned regularly. The relentless screeching of the subway had a tendency to drown out punch lines, but a few of the comics agreed that wasn’t so different from the hum of activity in a typical club — the clinking of glasses, the waiters whispering, “What can I get you?”“I need all the live shows I can get to shake off the rust,” said Jeff Scheen, who closed out Saturday’s show as the train reached 42nd Street.The weekly subway gigs are arranged and advertised by Stand Up NY, a club on the Upper West Side. Since it closed last March because of the pandemic, the club’s co-owner, Dani Zoldan, has been inventing ways to keep comics performing in front of live audiences, instead of in stilted Zoom shows. The club has put on about 500 outdoor shows in parks and on rooftops across the city over the past year, Zoldan said. Last June, there was an invitation-only indoor comedy show at the club itself without a formal audience — which was undoubtedly against the rules intended to keep people from gathering, but the police never intervened — and in February, it held comedy shows disguised as weddings (one couple actually got married).Paying patrons and regular passengers alike were on hand Saturday for Alex Quow’s set.Adam Powell for The New York TimesWhen winter came, Zoldan had to get creative again.“I was just wracking my brain,” Zoldan said. “What else could we do? We couldn’t have shows in the club, we couldn’t have outdoor shows anymore.”His solution was the subway, which singers, dancers and musicians have long treated as a stage (comics, less so). At the first subway show in late December, Stand Up NY’s chief of staff and booker, Jon Borromeo, recalled that an M.T.A. conductor approached them and said, “Are you guys doing comedy?” The group braced for a reprimand, but instead the conductor said, “That’s awesome,” gave a thumbs up, and returned to his post.“I was like, ‘Yes! Yes! We have approval from the M.T.A.!’” Borromeo remembered.On Saturday, audience members and comics, who are paid $25 each to perform, met at 72nd Street and Broadway, outside a Bloomingdale’s Outlet store. Carrying the speaker and hand-held microphone, Borromeo led the group to the 72nd Street station, where they swiped in and waited for the downtown 1 train to South Ferry. (Tickets for the show are $15 each, plus the $2.75 fare, but the rules are as loose as the surroundings.)The audience of about eight was lighter than usual, probably because it was a warm spring night and the Passover holiday was beginning. Furqan Muqri, a 33-year-old surgeon from Syracuse, was visiting his brother, Hasan Muqri, a 25-year-old medical student, in the city. The brothers — who were both fully vaccinated — had long attended stand-up comedy shows together, and when they searched the internet for shows during the pandemic, this was what they found.Comics and others took in the stand-up sets on Saturday.Adam Powell for The New York TimesVictoria Ruiz, 25, and Raymond Gipson, 26, showed up after dinner in the West Village, all dolled up for date night. Robert Brock, 38, had visited the club on West 78th Street for years and had brought his 22-year-old daughter, Adonnis Brock, to the show.Under the glaring subway lights, each audience member was a target for crowd work — there was no hiding in the shadows of a club. Pointing to Gipson, who had cozied up to Ruiz, the comedian Alex Quow joked that he was certain that Gipson had received a pandemic stimulus check, based on the fact that Ruiz’s arm had not left his.“My brother right here, he got his stimulus,” Quow said, “His girl has been on him all night!”Then, there were the audience members who did not ask to be audience members. There was the man who rolled his eyes when the show started and did not look up from his phone for 17 stops; the woman who entered the car, glanced at the spectacle and immediately moved on to a new car; the young couple who put up with multiple comics asking them questions about where they were from with good humor.“Hello, welcome to a comedy show that you wanted no part of — I’m so sorry,” the comic Adam Mamawala said as a man wearing a Yankees cap entered the car.The show had the chaotic air of something that could get shut down at any moment by a strict police officer who was not in the mood for a joke. A few people sipped beers, but everyone wore face coverings, making reactions to jokes harder to decipher. Still, the comics said they could tell from crinkled eyes and body language.Jon Borromeo, the Stand Up NY booker and chief of staff, laughing during Rachel Lander’s performance Saturday.Adam Powell for The New York TimesOn the uptown train at the Franklin Street stop, Erik Bergstrom joked about a vegan woman he dated who railed against the unhealthiness of eating cheese, then happily snorted cocaine.At 28th Street, Scheen recounted the evolutionary tale of how male birds lost their penises, holding onto the metal subway pole for stability.Often, the amplified voices of the comedians clashed with an M.T.A. employee reminding riders about transfer points.“He’s making an announcement,” Scheen said. “It’s probably very important and we have no idea. He’s like, ‘Everyone get off the train, the Slasher’s here.’”During the pandemic year, as artists and performers were deprived of their passions and their income, Zoldan has made himself into a determined advocate for the survival of stand-up comedy. He has toed the line for pandemic performances rules (and sometimes brazenly jumped over it); the club has sued the state over rules limiting comedy clubs from welcoming audiences; he even went up against a New York stand-up behemoth, Jerry Seinfeld, whom he accused of not doing enough to support New York’s comedy industry.But, come Friday, there won’t need to be any complicated machinations or creative thinking to get comics in front of a live audience. On April 2, the state said, arts venues will be allowed to hold plays, concerts and other kinds of performances at 33 percent capacity, with a limit of 100 people indoors or 200 people outdoors, and higher limits if patrons show they have tested negative for the coronavirus.Stand Up NY plans to hold its first club shows on Friday evening, with a maximum of 40 audience members. Still, on Saturday, it plans one more night of subway performances, just for fun. More

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    Is Livestreamed Stand-Up Here to Stay?

    Two online business models see a future post-pandemic, but success might depend on cooperating with actual clubs.The cultural legacy of the pandemic may not only be shows canceled, careers derailed and theaters and clubs closed. There has also been innovation, like the emergence of the virtual comedy club.What began out of desperation has matured into a new digital genre that has drawn sizable audiences in the habit of buying tickets to livestreaming stand-up from the comfort of their own homes. As clubs now start to reopen, and comics and patrons return to their old haunts, the next few months will be a key test of this business. Was it a pandemic-era fad or will it be an enduring part of the landscape?On a video call from her San Francisco home, Jill Paiz-Bourque, the chief executive of RushTix, perhaps the biggest digital comedy club, made the case that the lockdown only accelerated an already inevitable revolution. “Why did Netflix eclipse television?” she rhetorically asked. “It’s streaming, unlimited, global. Why did Spotify eclipse terrestrial radio? It’s streaming. It’s global. It’s unlimited. And that’s why livestreaming with RushTix eclipses Live Nation eventually because it’s streaming, it’s global, it’s unlimited.”Many are skeptical, including fans who badly miss being surrounded by echoing laughter and stand-ups who are exhausted by performing for screens and who widely prefer telling jokes in the same room as crowds. While conceding that nothing replaces the traditional comedy format, Paiz-Bourque said the doubts will look as shortsighted as early mockery of Twitter, podcasting and so many other now common internet forms. She has good reason for such swagger. Paiz-Bourque’s business, which she calls “a Silicon Valley start-up,” regularly sells over 1,000 tickets to see comics like Sarah Silverman, Patton Oswalt and Maria Bamford. In February, she sold 15,000 tickets to eight shows, bringing in close to $280,000 in revenue.“Once we got our first taste of 5,000 ticket shows, that was intoxicating,” Paiz-Bourque said (Colleen Ballinger, the popular YouTuber best known for “Miranda Sings,” was the breakthrough artist).As touring resumes, Paiz-Bourque is tweaking her vision, moving away from a tight focus on those headlining and radically increasing volume. By the summer, her goal is to produce five shows a day, every day. In other words, to live up to the slogan that appeared on her site before a recent show: “The biggest comedy club on the planet.” She said she wasn’t worried about clubs reopening because “I have way more supply than they have access to.”Laura Silverman and Jonathan Katz from “Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist.”RushTixIn the next month and half, she’s rolling out nine original, interactive series, including competitions (“Very Punny With Kate Lambert”), a cooking show (“Baking It Better with Tom Papa”) and a dating one (“Find Your Boo With Reggie Bo”). She’s also adding closed captioning, a subscription package and new technology that allows patrons to move around the “club” and hear different levels of laughter.The overall vision is to produce new work with emerging artists during the week while doubling down on headliners on Friday and Saturday nights. How will she compete when stars are eager to tour and return to live stages? Simple, she says: Make comics offers “worth their while.” After previously offering 80 percent of tickets sales, she’s recently started guaranteeing up to five figures. She says six figures will become common among an elite few. “I’ve gotten pushback on this from Day 1,” she said about enlisting comics. “Then you start wiring thousands and tens of thousands of dollars and they were like: I get it.”RushTix is hardly the only player in this market. Nowhere Comedy Club, a smaller, scrappier operation that was started by the comedians Ben Gleib and Steve Hofstetter, has booked a stellar lineup of comics, including Mike Birbiglia, Gilbert Gottfried and Nikki Glaser. In something of a coup, Bill Burr recently performed in a benefit production from a studio that Gleib built in his home, a booking that Paiz-Bourque said she was “devastated” she didn’t get a chance on. (She just announced that Burr will be appearing at RushTix on May 16 in a live version of the animated TV show “Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist.”)Gleib, who began Nowhere after ending a presidential campaign in 2019 that left him nearly broke, also performs his own show online every week. And while he is optimistic about the future of livestreaming, he sounded more anxious than Paiz-Bourque about losing comics to touring. “I think we can peaceably coexist,” he said. But as he approaches Nowhere’s anniversary next week, his strategy is not to rebrand or recast so much as make Nowhere fit more seamlessly into the existing ecosystem.He recently started geotargeting, a technology that restricts consumers from certain areas from buying tickets, a tactic he called potentially “game-changing.” This enables a comic heading out on a tour to block the places he’s visiting so as not to depress sales there.Emilio Savone, the co-owner of the New York Comedy Club, which begins indoor shows on Friday, when the city will begin allowing indoor shows at 33 percent capacity with a limit of 100 people, said such digital theaters have a future. “Do I think it can sustain as a seven-night-a-week type of thing? Maybe not?” he wrote in an email. “But I do think it’s a good tool for comedians to work on material, and it offers another way for the comic to engage and reach their audience.”Ben Gleib in soundcheck on Sunday.Nowhere Comedy ClubFelicia Madison, who runs the West Side Comedy Club in Manhattan — which will begin outdoor shows on April 14 but not indoor shows until the city allows for 50 percent capacity — also sees a future involving a hybrid of traditional and digital clubs. “If they’re smart, they’ll work with clubs” to livestream from there, she said.RushTix is already doing that, with the stand-up comedian Godfrey performing from the Gotham Comedy Club on April 7. But neither Paiz-Bourque nor Gleib sound enthusiastic about the economics of such arrangements. Gleib argued that strength of Nowhere was in the relationships it has developed with new comedy audiences. “We’ve reached huge demographics that have never been serviced by comedy clubs,” Gleib said, pointing to patrons who live in remote areas or those with disabilities or social anxiety. “Then there’s the lazy,” he added. “We’re great for lazy people who don’t want to go out.”Nowhere puts fans’ faces onscreen and allows everyone to talk, laugh or even heckle (though they can muted for that, too). This creates a freewheeling show that emphasizes the community of audience and performer. By contrast, RushTix keeps the audience to a chat room and limits laughter to 20 people. Gleib called this “elitist,” saying the RushTix approach didn’t resemble live stand-up.Paiz-Bourque doesn’t argue, saying that since no online show can duplicate a live one, her goal is to produce the best experience. “We gave up on trying to emulate the live experience and the more we gave up on that, the more we started opening up barrels of creativity,” she said.Maria Bamford on her livestream show, “Vindicated.”RushTixIf anything, she wants to move away from a dependence on conventional stand-up, while still booking big names. It’s why one of the first comics she recruited was Bamford, a natural experimentalist who is putting on an unusual show on April 17: after doing a set, she will film herself sleeping for the next eight hours. You can watch and join her for breakfast the next day.Bamford already has a dedicated audience that will follow her wherever she goes. The real test for these clubs will be whether they can develop enough loyalty to get audiences to try less established talents. These platforms tend to benefit those who already have large and engaged online fan bases. When clubs and theaters return, they are going to be booking acts that they know can sell tickets, which may make them more wary of adventurous or emerging comics.There is a real danger right now that we are entering a very cautious moment in comedy as institutions struggle to rebuild, and Paiz-Bourque, a former comic gifted in the art of selling a premise, argues now is the moment for her to fill another niche.Pointing to a logjam of early- and midcareer stand-ups whose careers have been slowed by the pandemic, she said, “Not only is this going to be a business that works. It needs to creatively for all these comedians.” More

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    On ‘S.N.L.’, Maya Rudolph Hosts a Unity Seder as Kamala Harris

    The “Saturday Night Live” alumna reprised her role as Vice President Kamala Harris in a sketch that also featured Alex Moffat’s return as President Biden.This weekend, “Saturday Night Live” added one more question to the four that are customarily asked at a Passover Seder: Why wasn’t this sketch chosen as the cold open?You had to wait until just before midnight for the topical, politically themed satire that usually kicks off an “S.N.L.” broadcast — this one featuring the host, Maya Rudolph, in her recurring role as Vice President Kamala Harris. Her task? To M.C. a Passover meal intended as a call for unity.“This has been a difficult year for all of us,” Rudolph’s Harris said. “But I really do feel that we are about to see some light. And what better night to celebrate a new beginning than Passover — or as my adopted people call it, Pesach.”Rudolph explained the four questions that would be asked at this particular Seder: “How’s school? Did you eat? When are you giving me grandchildren? And what’s with the haircut?” Then she introduced the man she described as “my rock, my everything, my Semitic smokeshow, my stepbaby-daddy” — Doug Emhoff, the second gentleman, as played by Martin Short.In customary “S.N.L.” style, they were joined by various cast members playing prominent political figures, including Aidy Bryant as Senator Ted Cruz, who brought Israeli-flag cupcakes and pigs in a blanket. (“Well, we can’t have pork or bread, so thank you,” Rudolph told her.)Chloe Fineman appeared as Ella Emhoff, the second daughter, model and fashion designer. “Am I breaking your eyes?” she asked. “Good. You may think I look insane, but I assure you, I’m the most normal looking girl in Bushwick.”Kenan Thompson arrived, playing Senator Raphael Warnock, and was asked by Rudolph to make certain that Georgia remained a blue state.“That won’t be easy,” Thompson said. “They’ll do everything they can to keep Black people from voting. We wouldn’t vote on anything if they had their way. Not even ‘American Idol.’ Jennifer Hudson would have been knocked out in the first round.”The group was then joined by Alex Moffat as President Biden, a role he had played on only one previous occasion, in December. In this appearance, Moffat portrayed Biden as brimming with confidence after his first formal news conference on Thursday.“It was so easy,” Moffat said. “A lot of critics thought I wasn’t mentally prepared enough but I think I” — he paused here to look at a note card — “proved them all wrong.”Moffat then informed Rudolph that he was giving her the responsibility of handling immigration conditions. “Thank you for the opportunity,” Rudolph said dryly. “Such a fun, solvable problem.”Moffat also reintroduced his colleagues to his not entirely tamed dog Major. A few prerecorded growls played, and that was Short’s cue to wrestle gamely on the ground with a stuffed dog.Beyoncé impersonation of the weekIf you’re going to bring Maya Rudolph back to “S.N.L.”, you’d better have her play Beyoncé Knowles-Carter in preposterous circumstances. This time, that setting was “Hot Ones,” the streaming talk show in which celebrities answer questions while trying to eat spicy food.Mikey Day played the role of its host, Sean Evans, and even he seemed confused as to why Beyoncé would appear on the program. “I feel you,” Rudolph said. “I still can’t tell if this is beneath me. But my sister Solange loves this show, so I said I’d do it.”Rudolph didn’t answer many questions, but she did successfully embody an overheated Beyoncé, sweaty and with tears streaming down her face after sampling a sauce that was too hot even for her.Music video of the weekNow that more than 39 million Americans age 65 and over have received at least one dose of a Covid-19 vaccine (according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention), what are they going to do with their new status?Why, rap about it boastfully, of course.As Chris Redd raps in this video, playing one such cocky vaccinated senior:Baby boomers, greatest generationGot all the money, now we got the vaccinationCrashed the economy three whole timesAnd when it comes to the vax, we’re the first in lineWeekend Update jokes of the weekOver at the Weekend Update desk, the anchors Colin Jost and Michael Che riffed on possible new White House efforts at gun control after shootings in Atlanta and Boulder.Jost began:Well, this week kind of felt like Biden on those stairs. You thought it had to get better, but then it repeatedly got worse. In the wake of the Colorado and Atlanta shootings, President Biden called for universal background checks for gun purchases. And background checks are a great start, but shouldn’t we also do current checks? Like, what are these guys up to now? How much “Call of Duty” are they playing? Have they recently DMed a girl “hey” 30 times? Or, how about this: If you want a gun, the gun store has to talk to at least five people from your life who agree it’s a good idea for you to have a gun. It’s not really that much to ask. You’ve got to list three references on an application to work at Foot Locker.“And Republicans,” he added, “please stop pretending this is a Second Amendment issue and just admit:You love guns more than people you don’t know. These are your political ads; look at them: [Here a composite image appeared of several Republican figures posing with guns] “You look like you’re running for president of ISIS. If you actually cared about the Second Amendment, you’d also care about the well-regulated militias part. And I don’t know if you noticed when they almost hung you two months ago, but our militias aren’t super well-regulated.Che picked up the riff, replying: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just bought a gun last summer when all those white kids started talking about getting rid of the police.”He then switched gears to Biden’s news conference, saying:President Biden gave his first press conference, which lasted for over an hour. Wow, shout out to Fixodent! At the conference, President Biden was asked if he plans to run for re-election in 2024, which is probably the nicest way to ask him if he plans on being alive in three years.Weekend Update deskside segment of the weekThough Bowen Yang is often seen here playing characters like the Chinese trade minister Chen Biao, this week he appeared as himself to address recent efforts to reduce anti-Asian hate and attacks. Yang read from what he said were calls to action he had seen on Instagram, with titles like “Six ways you can check in on your A.A.P.I. friends and tell them they’re so hot,” using the abbreviation for Asian-American and Pacific Islander people, and “Call your Senators and demand that they know about the lesbian characters in Sailor Moon!”Acknowledging that he had no easy solutions to these problems, Yang asked, “What can I say to help how insanely bad things are? If someone’s personality is Punch an Asian Grandma, it’s not a dialogue. I have an Asian grandma. You want to punch her. There ain’t no common ground, mama.”All work and no play of the weekIf you’re a fan of precise parodies of Stanley Kubrick films, or you just like seeing past “S.N.L.” stars reunite with their former castmates, there’s something here for you. In this filmed segment called “The Maya-ing,” Rudolph goes wandering through Studio 8H as if it were the Overlook Hotel from “The Shining.”But no one gets his brains bashed in with a bat — it’s just a clever opportunity for Rudolph to cross paths with old pals like Tina Fey (playing the ghost of an original “S.N.L.” writer) and Rachel Dratch (as herself, in a bathtub). Enjoy your stay, Maya, forever and ever and ever. More

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    Jay Leno Apologizes for Years of Anti-Asian Jokes

    The comedian said it was not “another example of cancel culture but a legitimate wrong that was done on my part.”Jay Leno, the longtime “Tonight Show” host, apologized for a history of making anti-Asian jokes, saying that at the time he “genuinely thought them to be harmless” but now hopes for forgiveness from Asian-Americans.The comedian said in a joint statement with the Media Action Network for Asian Americans, a watchdog group that tracks anti-Asian comments and incidents in the media and entertainment industries, that he had an attitude at the time that “some group is always complaining about something, so don’t worry about it.” Whenever the show received a complaint, he said, the response was divided into two camps: “We need to deal with this” or “screw ’em if they can’t take a joke.”“Too many times I sided with the latter even when in my heart I knew it was wrong,” Mr. Leno said. “That is why I am issuing this apology. I do not consider this particular case to be another example of cancel culture but a legitimate wrong that was done on my part.”It was a recent realization. In 2019, Mr. Leno, who hosted “The Tonight Show” from 1992 to 2014, made an offensive anti-Asian joke while filming a commercial for “America’s Got Talent,” the actor and producer Gabrielle Union told Variety.MANAA, the watchdog group, had complained for decades about Mr. Leno’s jokes that relied on stereotypes of Asians, to no avail. Rob Chan, the president of the group, said in the statement that he was “happy that Jay came around, and that we will be working together in the future.”Mr. Leno is slated to host a rebooted game show, “You Bet Your Life,” starting in the fall.Mr. Leno’s apology came as Asian-Americans have endured rising discrimination and racist language during the coronavirus pandemic, while also processing the trauma of a recent mass shooting in the Atlanta area in which six of the eight victims were women of Asian descent. Mr. Leno said he would be “deeply hurt and ashamed if somehow my words did anything to incite this violence.”Some Asian-Americans have long argued that their concerns about anti-Asian speech are frequently dismissed as trivial. Asian-Americans have historically been underrepresented in Hollywood and in comedy, and in 2016, a bit by the comedian Chris Rock that relied on Asian stereotypes made it to the Oscars ceremony.While late-night comedians pick a variety of targets, it’s not the first time Mr. Leno has been criticized for jokes that got laughs at the time. Recently, a documentary about Britney Spears by The New York Times brought increased scrutiny to jokes by several late-night hosts about her mental health. Mr. Leno has not apologized to the singer, though others, including Justin Timberlake and some publications, have said they regret their behavior.Azi Paybarah contributed reporting. More

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    For Eddie Izzard, a ‘99’ Ice Cream and a Waterloo Sunset Are Wondrous Things

    The star of “Six Minutes to Midnight,” opening Friday, tells why Elgar’s “Enigma” Variations, “Great Expectations,” David Bowie and London landmarks hold meaning for her.Eddie Izzard, the British comedian-actor-writer-activist-endurance runner, tends to push herself to the limit. And then some.“I do find — because I had my sort of 10 wilderness years before things took off — that I’ve tried very hard to stay four steps ahead of where I need to be,” Izzard, who is transgender, said in a video interview from London.She performs stand-up in English, French, German and Spanish. She channels 21 characters in a one-person show of Charles Dickens’s “Great Expectations.” She runs multiple marathons for charity — clocking 32 in 31 days in January, each followed by a comedy routine, for her Make Humanity Great Again campaign, which supports global unity and tolerance.And still, Izzard found time to co-write, executive produce and star in “Six Minutes to Midnight,” set in 1939, about a teacher at a finishing school in the south of England whose students include the daughters of high-ranking Nazis. The film, out Friday, based on a true story she learned about from a museum curator in Bexhill-on-Sea, where her family is from, was a 10-year process: five to develop the characters and five to get her acting to a level where she could play a lead, alongside stars like Judi Dench.Catch her while you can: Izzard hopes to go into politics in the near future as a member of Parliament for the Labour party, during which she’ll take a hiatus from performing.With her career in high gear, the timing may not be perfect, but she’s not worried. “There’s the critical momentum you need when you’re going in,” she said, “but that will stick around for when you come out.”Izzard channeled her trademark whimsy into her list of 10 cultural essentials — from the fantasy world of the Narnia books to the simple delights of an ice cream cone — which she wrote herself. KATHRYN SHATTUCK1. Edward Elgar’s “Enigma” Variations My mum used to love to listen to classical music. My mum and dad were married in ‘Adan (Aden) in Yemen and Dad talked of her liking to go up onto the roof of a local hotel and play classical music from a gramophone record as the sun set. I think that, amongst others records, she would have played Elgar’s “Enigma” Variations, as it was one of the classical albums that was often played in the house. My mum died when I was only 6 years old, but I do remember hearing different albums played at home in the years she was alive, and this one stuck with me from an early age. The fact that he was called Edward, and so was I, didn’t hurt.2. “30 Rock” “30 Rock” is just gold dust. If you have a brain and a sense of humor, just buy the first episode. If it grabs you then just do what I did and download the whole box set. The height of great comedy is to be as intelligent as it is bonkers, and this is it. It’s the kind of sitcom that probably only could exist in a post-“Seinfeld” America, and it probably had to fight just as hard as “Seinfeld” did for its own existence over its first few seasons.3. “David Bowie: Finding Fame” The key thing in this documentary to take home to your brain is that it shows the 10 wilderness years before Bowie took off with Ziggy Stardust in 1972. One needs to know that he was in his first band in 1962, when the Beatles were just taking off. So the stamina that 10 years adrift taught him, and also the few times when it looked like things were taking off but then didn’t, must have informed the rest of his career. I didn’t realize until I watched this that he was at times, in the early days, way off course but he kept regrouping and coming back.4. “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” by C.S. Lewis It is a great mystical adventure story to feed the imagination of kids. You have to understand that I’m dyslexic and so read very few books, but I read all of the seven Narnia ones when I was young. I later found out that Lewis was lacing in religion to the series, and this made every feel a little hoodwinked about the whole thing. But later, I realized you could just ignore the symbolism if you wanted to.5. “The Great Escape” A classic war film and one I’ve watched many times. The fact it is based in truth, when a lot of war films in those days were not, makes it even better. I like the film so much, I’ve even watched it in German. As I do my stand-up in German, I was playing Berlin, and I bought the DVD of the film there. If you switch on the German audio track and just have English subtitles, it is a different film. Suddenly they’re all talking German, and so it just becomes a battle between an extreme right regime and people fighting for a return to humanity.6. “Waterloo Sunset” Written by Ray Davies of the Kinks and performed by them. It’s a song that I’ve always thought was accidentally perfect for me as I knew exactly where to see a Waterloo sunset. Waterloo Bridge is my favorite London bridge (we have many). When I was a street performer at Covent Garden, I used to walk across the bridge to perform in front of the Festival Hall on London’s South Bank. And at some point soon after Covid, I will perform inside the Festival Hall. And then I’ll watch another sunset and I will play “Waterloo Sunset” again.7. “Pogles’ Wood” If you search for “Pogles’ Wood: Honey Bees” on YouTube, you can see an episode of this early animated TV series that I was mesmerized by when I was about 5 years old. Normally if you watch back at TV shows that you found entertaining at that age, you will find them tired and old-fashioned in modern times. But “Pogles’ Wood” still holds up with its mixture of animated characters, weirdly beguiling music and short pieces of live-action documentary that showed and taught you things from the real world.8. The “99” Ice Cream What did people do before ice cream? Nobody knows. But the “99” is a staple of the British ice cream world. It is just a basic wafer cone with soft white vanilla ice cream swirled on top of it, but the crowning difference that makes it a thing of genius is a chocolate Flake stuck diagonally (always diagonally) into the side of the vanilla ice cream.Once you buy your “99,” experienced users will have their own eating ritual to perform. Mine is always to push the chocolate Flake with one finger so that you push it down into the center of the cone. Then you close the hole in the ice cream over with your tongue and carry on eating the cone as if it never had a chocolate Flake. Then, when you are down to the final handle part of the cone, you have a heady mixture of wafer, vanilla ice cream and flaky chocolate to feast upon.9. “Great Expectations” Charles Dickens was born on Feb. 7, 1812, and slightly bizarrely, I was born on Feb. 7, 1962, 150 years later. Having never read a great work of literature, I thought I should start with a work of Dickens due to the weird link. I chose “Great Expectations” to firstly read and record it to become an audiobook (which I have now done), and then I thought I should turn it into a solo show. So I commissioned my older brother, Mark, to adapt it down from over 20 hours of book into a 90-minute solo performance.Apart from it being one of Dickens’ more mature books and a great story of Pip, Magwitch, Miss Havisham and Estella, “Great X” is also interesting for me as it starts off down to the South East of London, along the river Thames towards the mouth of the river. This is the Chatham, Kent area of England and was where Dickens grew up, and the book starts here in about the 1820s, which is when he was there as a child. So you hear about “the marshes” direct from his childhood, a place that was barren in the winter and glorious in the summer.10. The Parks of London I do find them a joy. Are they culture? I think so, for they can inspire. Two of our biggest are slap bang in the center of London. They are Hyde Park and Kensington Park. They are essentially one large park, but they have West Carriage Drive running between that separates them. The ancient Serpentine River runs through them, which was long ago turned into a boating lake. Speakers’ Corner, where anyone can pull up and hold forth on any subject, is in the northeast corner of Hyde Park — which is right by the beginning of the old Roman road of Watling Street. I encourage anyone to take a walk from the bottom corner of one park to the top corner of the other park on a warm and sunny day, and it will feel like a walk in the countryside. More

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    Can You Love a Stand-Up Special About Loathing?

    James Acaster’s “Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999” is an outstanding show about the worst year in his life. (His girlfriend left him for Mr. Bean, and it went downhill from there.)In his superb new stand-up special, “Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999,” James Acaster describes the worst year of his life: After a shattering breakup, suicidal thoughts and a mental breakdown, he started seeing a therapist for the first time. “Because I’m British and that’s what it takes,” he says. “My whole life had to fall apart before I’d talk about my feelings.”Acaster’s show, which toured New York several years ago but only became available for purchase on Vimeo recently, takes aim at England’s famously stiff upper lip. The theme that emerges after two sprawling, ticklishly funny hours of his new show is not just the challenge of talking about mental health but also the perils of stoicism.There’s nothing worse than sweeping generalizations about the difference between American and British comedy, which is my way of excusing myself for making one: There’s a narrative and thematic ambition that you find in British comics like Daniel Kitson, Josie Long and Acaster that is less common among comics here. Perhaps it’s because they cut their teeth putting on hourlong shows at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe as opposed to doing short club sets. In any event, Acaster packs his jokes into a tricky structure in which ideas cohere through metaphors and digressions.In the first act — this is a special with an intermission — he tells of mentioning an emotional breakdown on his “Great British Bake Off” appearance that went viral. He mocks how quickly mental illness turns into entertainment in a way intended to make the audience laugh, and when they do, he gets angry at them. Then they laugh at that.There’s a self-awareness to the way Acaster needles the crowd, which he does repeatedly, mocking his fans and describing his relationship with them as demeaning. His irreverent comedy delights in insulting the audience. “Night after night, I’m the one in the room who knows the most about comedy and I’ve got to win your approval?” he says exasperatedly.There’s purpose to turning his British fans into part of the show. English icons are regular targets of his. He makes the sharpest comic attack on Brexit that I’ve seen and his agile skewering of the transphobia of Ricky Gervais has also gone viral. Acaster already has an almost stereotypically English brand of comedy: cerebral and word drunk, wrapped inside layers of irony and biting sarcasm. It’s rare to see a stand-up show filled with intimate stories that have the feel of a State of the Nation special.Until “Cold Lasagne,” Acaster was best known for four Netflix specials that he released on the same day in 2018. The first and best episode described a girlfriend leaving him after saying: “I love you but I don’t feel like I know you.” It’s the skeleton key to that show, and many of the rest of its jokes provide evidence for her claim. His playful observational comedy keeps the audience at a distance, even claiming at one point that he was actually a police officer in disguise as a comic, a line he stuck to throughout the show. Such commitment to ridiculous conceits is part of the fun of his work.His new special also finds laughs in personas, strutting onstage at the start in sunglasses and knocking cups off a table, swearing at the crowd before grabbing the microphone in a spoof of swagger: “Let’s start with the headlines: I curse now.” He describes another girlfriend’s explanation for a breakup, but this time, the reason is about his refusal to get help, how his sadness spreads. This show is far more confessional than the previous ones. Whereas his past work avoided his private life, this one digs uncomfortably deep.In the second act, Acaster tells three stories of unhappily severed relationships: with his agent, his therapist and his girlfriend. Each is a virtuosic set piece that leans on a certain anxiety over whether he is going to say too much.The highlight is the breakup, a tale that focuses on how his girlfriend went on to date Rowan Atkinson, the comedian best known for playing the English comic institution Mr. Bean, a specialist in bumbling physical pratfalls. In a sad-sack sulk, Acaster describes the peculiarly hilarious horror of being a young comic “left for Mr. Bean,” a phrase he says over and over again with the urgency of violins in a horror movie. It’s a masterwork of cringe comedy, one he consistently digresses from to anticipate the criticism that he is being bitter and petty.Acaster is no truth-telling comic who doesn’t care what people think. He seems concerned about coming off well, but uses his own sensitivity to add another layer of tension to his stories. In explaining the fallout with his agent, he makes a big show of being fair, so much so that he says he will only tell the story from his point of view. It begins: “The first thing you have to know is I ruined everything and I did it for a laugh.”It’s a familiar trick, making someone look ridiculous by imagining the terrible logic of their thinking, but few have committed to it so fully or for as long. Many of Acaster’s jokes have a theatrical quality, and he incorporates not just act-outs, but also elaborate pantomime with props. He even makes a short play out of ordering food at a restaurant to illustrate his opinion on Brexit.He acts out his fights with gusto, and in his dispute with his agent, he reminds you of his struggles with mental health that led him to the therapist, which results in the show’s most explosive fight. When he takes out his phone to read her private text messages to him, he smiles like someone enjoying the pleasure of playing dirty.This is a show that clearly has gone through many incarnations, which may be why with your purchase of “Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999,” you also get another 40-minute performance on similar themes. Cold lasagne is actually never mentioned but even “hate myself” seems odd, since there’s so much other loathing going on here.Muffled anger is sometimes a setup, other times a punchline, but always essential to this show. At one point, Acaster says he has toured all over the country, adding, “Let me tell you: I hate Britain, absolutely hate it.”Then he pivots, apologetically, ever alert to the precise arrangement of words. “I phrased that wrong,” he says, pausing. “I hate British people.” More