For his third Netflix comedy special, and first in almost six years since 2018’s The Overthinker, Demetri Martin is still second-guessing his jokes for us to see and hear. It’s a stylistic choice that benefits us at home much more than the folks who watch Martin perform live. All of which definitely sets this apart from the traditional stand-up comedy hours you’ll see on Netflix.
The Gist: In The Overthinker, Demetri Martin added director’s commentary to some of his jokes. This time around, he’s putting even more thought into his material, to the point where everything we’re seeing exists only in his head. Call it a dream, call it a simulation. No matter what you call it, the conceit allows the comedian to, well, deconstruct his own act.
What Comedy Specials Will It Remind You Of?: The use of easels to illustrate some of his jokes provides echoes of early Zach Galifianakis, while his examination of wordplay in odd ways suggests not only Galifianakis but also Steven Wright.
Memorable Jokes: Martin has overthought commonly-uttered phrases such as “hold your horses” and “not with a 10-foot pole” and now you might, too, if you hadn’t already.
But you might not have reconsidered what it means to be a counterfeiter until Martin makes his case for it, then acts it out, and then describes his act-out to the imaginary person in his act out.
Of course, the more memorable sections are those in which Martin actually deconstructs his own act and not just a particular premise. Sometimes we hear his inner dialogue criticizing his decisions, even urging him to go back and try a joke again, which he sometimes does. Sometimes the commentary simply appears onscreen to add tags or offer counterpoints. Other sections receive a jazzy score and/or playful camera movements.
The most intriguing routine involves no fancy camera work, though. Just Martin and his easel, telling a series of jokes through charts, graphs and pictures, then wowing us by flipping the sheets back in reverse, with completely different jokes on the return trip.
For one extended bit, he breathes life into a hand-drawn demon on his easel pad courtesy of a modulated microphone, briefly turning Martin into ventriloquist act until the mic glitches out.
Our Take: But Martin is otherwise completely in control, directing this special himself.
So why does he live in color, while his imagined simulation of a comedy special exists only in black-and-white? Is this some reverse The Wizard of Oz at play, where Martin, if he could click his heels, would feel more at home onstage than in life? How much of his dream is wrapped up in being 50, but still maintaining the stage image of an American schoolboy caught up in early Beatlemania? And what does it mean that we don’t even really see the audience? Is the audience almost beside the point?
By not visually showing us the audience, Martin certainly makes it easier on himself in the post-production process as well as the production of segments where he layers multiple variations or false starts or awkward pauses, or any other trickeration.
Stand-up specials have long struggled with the ability to translate the infectious energy of live comedy to tape/film. Martin’s techniques help demonstrate what’s possible without those usual limitations. So even if not all of the jokes or experimental takes on jokes quite work, there’s much to be rewarded by taking the chance and experimenting. At the very least, it makes this comedy special special.
Our Call: To paraphrase from one of Martin’s jokes, this special is designed for people who might consider themselves big or huge fans only, either of him or of the art form of stand-up. If that’s you, then STREAM IT.
Sean L. McCarthy works the comedy beat. He also podcasts half-hour episodes with comedians revealing origin stories: The Comic’s Comic Presents Last Things First.