There are an endless variety of boring
people, but none are more brazenly tedious than parents telling you about their
kids.
Part of the reason, I am convinced, is that it is
taboo to tell them so. When there is no possibility of
criticism, people get
lazy. I know I do, droning on about sleep schedules or marveling to some poor
trapped soul about how my daughters have opposite personalities. Besotted
parents often cannot see how dull we are, a blind spot that is benign unless
you’re listening to one. Or are a stand-up comic with a new baby.
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That population
grew over the pandemic, particularly the number of dads. Mazel tov to Nick
Kroll, Hasan Minhaj, Matt Braunger, and Kurt Braunohler, all charming comics
who in the past several weeks have released specials with jokes about becoming
a parent. Daniel Sloss also procreated, and in a recent live show, he confessed
that he once hated when his favorite comics became parents, comparing the shift
in their work with that of a British soccer star moving to an
American league.
It’s always a step-down.
Then Sloss did some mediocre material about having a
child that just goes to show how powerful the temptation is to turn the stuff
of Facebook oversharing into professional comedy.
Jokes about raising children make an easy connection
with certain sleepy-eyed audiences, but that can be its own parent trap. This
is well-trod ground. (Ophira Eisenberg just started a podcast, “Parenting Is a
Joke”, in which she talks to comics about raising kids.) It is hard to hear
Kroll discuss the double standards we have for mothers and fathers without
thinking about Ali Wong’s breakthrough work. That the most successful dad
comics of all time are Bill Cosby and Louis C.K. haunts the category. They once
seemed endearing, too. But the primary challenge of stand-up on this subject is
that it risks cheap sentimentality. Nothing smothers comedy faster.
With their
Netflix specials, Minhaj and Kroll lean
into schmaltz. In “Little Big Boy,” Kroll describes watching his wife give
birth as “majestic.” With glassy eyes, he says, “It’s like you’re seeing life,
creation begin.”
Minhaj also seems to tear up describing this moment
in “The King’s Jester” while baby photos are projected behind him. “I’m like,
oh my God, I’ve never felt this before in my life,” he says. “I’ve only known
you three days but I would do anything for you. I can’t believe how much I love
you.”
I can. Parental love is a common if beautiful thing,
and these are talented comedians. Kroll is a charismatic impressionist with a
knack for surreal detail. The way Minhaj spoofs his own enjoyment of his
righteous comedy going viral is one of the best bits I’ve seen about the wages
of social media. But on the subject of children, they get deadly earnest,
trite, and sugary enough to make your teeth ache.
People like to say becoming a parent helped them
become less self-involved, but making a smaller version of yourself can just as
easily lead to a more insular, selfish life. It is also possible to explore the
subject without resorting to fairy-tale lessons and pat emotional arcs, but it
requires some hardheaded decisions.
The female comics I have seen recently seem more
likely to do that. In her new Peacock special, “Ladykiller”, a pregnant Jena
Friedman makes clever jokes about America’s hatred of moms by pinpointing how
one of our most popular curses refers to having sex with one. In the first
minutes of the new season of her Paramount+ sketch show,
Amy Schumer is in her
kitchen when a girl playing her daughter brings in a picture of the family she
drew with a crayon. “I’m really not seeing it,” Schumer says, before
imperiously ordering her to do it again. That is the last we see of the kid.
The specials of Braunohler and Braunger benefit from
not only clearly being aware of the pitfalls of parenting comedy, but also actively
crafting strategies to elude them. Braunger all but hides those jokes in his
special “Doug” (available on demand), neither opening nor closing with them,
and introducing them with this segue: “OK, I’ve talked about big penises,
testicles, what next?” he said, putting his finger in the air. “Oh, I have a
daughter.”
Braunger has an intense sarcastic delivery that
builds up an impressive amount of deadpan comic energy. It reminds me a little
of Brody Stevens. And while it slows when he describes his sadness at dropping
off his daughter at daycare, there’s something hilarious about this manic man
as a parent. That is a good joke. By the time he pulls down his pants to show
off his tattoo, you are convinced that becoming a father has not changed him.
By contrast, Braunohler has the sensible
bespectacled gravity of a paternal figure, a point he underlines in his new
special, “Perfectly Stupid” (on Moment), by saying, “My life has finally caught
up with my looks.” His bashfulness in admitting he has a child is the first
clue that he knows this is treacherous territory. Then he shakes his head when
the crowd roars. He’s too smart to want that. It’s no accident that he ends his
hour with a sarcastic “aww.”
His special smartly gets specific and eccentric, a
good way to avoid cliche. “My daughter calls me ‘papa’ because we, as a
society, ruined ‘daddy,’” he says. “No one ever said: ‘Choke me, papa.’”
Comics should not avoid joking about raising kids.
It is far too fertile territory, and the rewards of a new idea are
considerable. Trust me: Parents could use a laugh. Even some sentimentality can
complement humor if handled deftly.
Perhaps the solution is to consider jokes about
diapers or the impossibility of getting a four-year-old to eat dinner the same
way other comics grapple with jokes about the Holocaust or racist police
brutality, which is to say, carefully, with high standards. When it comes to
the banal and the transgressive, only the best will do.
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