ANTHONY JESELNIK SH*TS THE BED IN HIS NEW NETFLIX SPECIAL

ANTHONY JESELNIK PROVES HOW HARD IT IS TO SUSTAIN A ONE NOTE ACT.

Anthony Jeselnik who I’ve long been a fan of, shits the bed in his new, almost unbearable to watch Netflix special. It’s one retread version of his last batch of dark pithy well written jokes after another, done again darker, and this time not as well re-written.

STEVEN WRIGHT

My buddy Steven Wright had a similar problem in his early days. Writing genius one-liners like these guys do is grueling. It’s a demanding form of comedic pointillism. To string together enough of these 60-second wonders to fill a full set is a gift from the heavens. The idea of crafting an hour of them, each as strong as the last, is exhausting to even think about. The fact that Jeselnik, Wright, and a select few have managed to do it once or twice is a feat that places them among the gods of comedy.

But Wright has two things Jeselnik doesn’t: heart and humility.

Wright had the humility to recognize the limits of the form he was working in. He knew not to overdo it with specials and that this was perfectly okay. He allowed himself to grow in other ways, continuing to build his act without feeling the need to trot out new material hour after hour once his comedic voice was established. He respected his gift too much to run it into the ground.

What Wright also has is a profound appreciation for the art form and his fellow comedians. This comes through in an endless flow of respect, awe, and love—his heart.

AN IDIOT SAVANT’S SAVANT

Jeselnik, on the other hand, feels like an idiot savant—brilliant at one thing: standing there, delivering really clever, mean jokes.

He might be the best in the world at this right now. (Of course, Topo Gigio was the best in the world at hand puppetry for a moment too.) But the issue with Jeselnik’s latest special is that it’s essentially just the same mean, clever jokes he’s always told. They’re funny as hell, sure, but they’re just retreads of his earlier, cleverer, funnier material. He has nothing else to say—no light to share, no insight sprinkled between the cutting edges, no hint of emotion, no glint of intelligence or empathy.

And that’s fine. It’s just that this disappointingly weak special lays bare his lack of depth. If he were a bit smarter—or a tad more humble—he wouldn’t have released it. He didn’t need to. He’s already a superstar concert draw. Why showcase how thin the ice is now?

A MAGAZINE ARTICLE WITH THE ANSWERS

A recent magazine article provides some insight into these questions. Jeselnik reveals that the cold, creepy, ego-manical hate-monger character he plays on stage isn’t an act—it’s who he is offstage too. He attacks a slew of fellow comedians (myself included), which is fine—it’s his right—that’s not the issue. The problem is how he tears others down for doing things he’s incapable of while proclaiming himself above all others. The greatest of his time.

“There’s no comedian who tells me what their life is like where I give even the slightest semblance of a fuck. I do not care. You’re wasting time. It’s not what I do. I have an hour up there; I pack that hour with pure ingenuity and brilliance,” he says.

He’s brutally honest about his views on the state of stand-up comedy: “I would guess that most of my comic friends think I’m a better comic—that I’m more pure, that I do things they would not try to do.”

He also criticizes the current wave of indie-clowning comedians: “One of my gifts is that I’ve never tried to make it easier. I’ve always kept it hard,” he says. “If I show up and do a silly dance? I couldn’t operate like that. Too much pride.”

On Matt Rife, a comedian with growing popularity, Jeselnik says, “I truly believe all roads lead to me. I also take exception to the idea that the country prefers Matt Rife over me. I just don’t know why you’d eat steak and then want cow shit.”

Does it bother him that audiences are drawn to Rife? “I’m sure Gordon Ramsay doesn’t lose sleep at night because McDonald’s sells billions of hamburgers.”

When asked about Tony Hinchcliffe, Jeselnik doesn’t hold back: “He thought the Brady roast was his big moment, even though I think those jokes were hack as hell. He’s a troll, basking in the shadow of Joe Rogan.”

THE NEW SPECIAL

The new special, however, proves Jeselnik isn’t much better than anyone else. Yes, he’s brilliant—at one thing. One note. One damn hard note to hit. Yet when it comes to the other notes that make a truly great comic—a Pryor, a Rock, a Burr, a Maron, a Chappelle, a Silverman—he doesn’t even try. Onstage, he sticks to his one ultimately shallow note, playing it over and over. Offstage, his new note seems to be proclaiming himself the greatest of all time while dismissing everyone else as inferior. That, right there, is the only reason to watch this weak-ass special: to see how thin his bullshit actually is. He seems incapable of self-reflection, of asking himself whether there’s a version of sadness in the fact that so much of America loves his version of  “hamburger.”

P.S. WHAT HE SAID ABOUT ME

If you’re wondering what Jeselnik said about me in that article to piss me off, here it is:

Nikki Glaser recalls seeing Jeselnik perform early in his career. “He had his notes onstage and said, ‘I don’t have these notes because I don’t know my jokes. I brought these notes because I don’t respect any of you.’ That was a formative moment for me,” she says.

Jeselnik comments on this “That’s one of my favorite jokes. I always do it when I’m trying out jokes, and then in the Showtime documentary about the Comedy Store that Mike Binder fucked up, he used it without my permission. He put it in there. And listen, no one saw that thing, so I can still do it.”

For the record, Jeselnik did in fact know I was using it. He told me he wasn’t thrilled but said he was fine with it. I thought it was a great comedy club moment, and he agreed. The Comedy Store documentary did well on Showtime, Hulu, Amazon, Sky, and around the world. Jeselnik thinks it didn’t because we only included one or two of his interview segments in the entire  five-hour documentary. Why? Because all he wanted to talk about was how much better he was than everyone else at the Store during his time there and even before. It was an awful interview so we didn’t use it.

IN CONCLUSION

Watch the special if you want, but I assure you you’ll wish you were somewhere else watching a grandparent slowly die. It’s that bad. I promise.