The 10 Best Stand-up Specials of 2019

8. Mike Birbiglia—The New One

Mike Birbiglia employs callbacks regularly in The New One, his one-man play about becoming a father, but with a significance that these references usually lack in lesser performances. Yes, occasionally they’re just for laughs, but in the show’s most meaningful moments, Birbiglia harkens back to earlier jokes to demonstrate how he’s grown from a man all but sure he doesn’t want to be a father, to a dad that embraces his new, utterly changed life. He tracks this progression in tandem with his love for his couch, represented onstage by a stool. It’s a funny, appropriate modern metaphor; the couch symbolizes the state of his life and, coincidentally, is where he spends much of his time. Soon it is commandeered by his daughter Oona, who loves sleeping on it, and likewise his marriage and daily routine aren’t as they used to be. The show is well-crafted in every dimension. The title itself can refer to his new couch, his newest family member (Oona quite literally means “one”) and his new life.—Clare Martin

7. Wanda Sykes—Not Normal

Wanda Sykes has never been one to dance around a point, and lands many direct hits throughout Not Normal, her new special for Netflix. The title refers to the state of the nation under Trump’s presidency—“It’s not normal that I know that I’m smarter than the president,” she says—and material about Trump dominates the first section of the hour. Trump’s presidency hasn’t aged him, she argues, but it’s aged us. The tough thing about comedians addressing Trump is that it still feels that this must be addressed at some point in order for the special to be valid. The perfunctory-ness of this trend and the common approach it generates does often affect the performances. One of the successes of this special is that it largely avoids this, and though some jokes at Trump’s expense can still feel like the kind of surface-level late night barbs that feel ineffective after a few years of being inundated with them, Sykes generates her criticisms from an extremely sharp place, and it shows.—Graham Techler

6. Emily Heller—Ice Thickeners

Ice Thickeners lives up to its name. Heller skips the small talk, diving right into topics like politics, exercise, therapy and masturbation. While such content is nothing out of the ordinary in stand-up world, that’s not necessarily a drawback here. There’s a reason we all ruminate on relationships and mental health and the state of our world—they’re universal concerns. She doesn’t plumb the subjects she covers too deeply, but Heller makes these well-trodden paths silly and insightful, frequently throwing out lines that feel instantly GIF-able. Her analogies for Trump—including him as Air Bud or an enchanted toilet/train conductor—are particularly inventive. Her focus on politics in the special only extends to her contemplation of a Trumpian world, but her feminist perspective is pervasive throughout. In a set all about getting down to brass tacks, Heller jokes that not only does she not care what men think, but that she flat-out hates them. It’s the type of comedic misandry that is both laughable and, in this day and age, utterly believable. Heller’s clearly a comedian ready to be center stage after over a decade of stand-up.—Clare Martin

5. Nate Bargatze—The Tennessee Kid

Nate Bargatze’s new Netflix special, The Tennessee Kid, brings with it a proportional helping of the fidgety energy that made his episode of Netflix’s The Standups so enjoyable. It’s a special filled with quiet, shifty confrontations with authority, all of which leave Bargatze displaying the nervous confusion of a smart kid who knows what the adult in the room is saying doesn’t make sense, but also doesn’t know if it’s worth it to correct them. It’s this disbelieving attitude that makes Bargatze an extremely agreeable presence, especially since he doesn’t put the kind of spin on the ball that would turn the approach sour or smarmy. This all makes The Tennessee Kid a real leisurely Sunday Brunch of a special.—Graham Techler

4. Michelle Wolf—Joke Show

In her new Netflix special, Joke Show, Wolf jumps into her set immediately—no introductions, no opening goofs to ease us in, just straight into an otter rape bit. It’s about as jarring as it sounds, but in Wolf’s seasoned hands, her most abrasive jokes are also the funniest. Part of why this works is her quick connection with the audience. She’s not necessarily going to hold our hands, but she’s ready with a flashlight to guide us through the dark places she’s taking us, and it’s always worth the journey (no matter how vaguely uncomfortable).—Clare Martin

3. Roy Wood Jr—No One Loves You

I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to have a special from a voice of reason who actually comes across as reasonable. Too often, a comic will position himself as someone who “tells it like it is” in order to present a reactionary argument as tough love. Roy Wood Jr. has always avoided this kind of condescension, even as he adopts a firm position, as he certainly does in No One Loves You. This is the kind of political comedy that actually addresses the country’s divide, as opposed to simply mining it for material. I wish we had more of that, and I hope Wood has more of it for us.—Graham Techler

2. Ramy Youssef—Feelings

Feelings is an incredibly low-key affair. Filmed at the Chicago Cultural Center instead of a traditional theater or club, it lacks the sound of bombastic laughter found in most specials. Even the biggest laughs often get muted by the tall ceilings of the beautiful room. But rather than hinder the show, they leave the focus on Youssef as he bounds from topics that are seemingly trivial to deeply personal examinations of his life as an American Mulsim. No other special in stand-up history has been so equally horny and spiritual, often at the same time. He’s constantly thinking about sex like most 20-somethings, often even as he’s tied to God. When a woman finds his continued attendance at Friday prayers after the Mosque shooting in New Zealand hot, Yousseff finds a newfound confidence. In the same spirit, his parent’s lack of sexual education training leaves him terrified of the consequences of unprotected sex. It’s beautiful how relatable the material is to anyone who grew up in a conservative religious tradition. The relatability of Feelings is its biggest strength. When someone says “why does this comic have to talk about race” they often ignore the reality that mainstream white comics are also talking about race and ethnic experiences. We’ve just been trained to accept the white point of view as an unspoken cultural default. People who complain about comics talking about race or identity are just asking “why aren’t they talking about me.” As a Southern Baptist white male, the commonality between our experiences made the moments I couldn’t relate to hit that much harder.
I’ve never watched another stand-up special that made me think about going back to church. It made me question if faith was easy to abandon because I’d never been forced to confront it. Feelings is deceptively subtle but deeply funny.—John-Michael Bond

1. Julio Torres—My Favorite Shapes

My Favorite Shapes starts with Torres discussing his favorite shapes. He sits at a conveyor belt that he operates with a foot pedal, presenting different objects and props and describing them in increasingly absurd ways. One is an oval that sadly stares at its reflection wishing it was a circle; another is a random collection of geometric objects that Torres says is an exact scale model of Tilda Swinton’s apartment. At one point we hear excerpts from a cactus’s diary, and anybody who struggles with mental health or self-doubt will relate to it. Most of these descriptions share a tone familiar from Torres’s SNL work, like ”Wells for Boys” and “Diego Calls His Mom”—goofy, sad, and surreal, but a recognizable enough version of real life to make immediate sense.

Torres eventually does stand up and move about the stage, but it never has the energy or pacing of a traditional stand-up set. When he does impressions, they’re not of people but of objects and concepts, like a Britta filter, or the curtain that separates first class from coach. He has a skill for mining the ridiculous out of quotidian objects, almost like he’s updating the bland observation humor of somebody like Jerry Seinfeld into a form of comic magic realism. There’s a bit where he presents shapes of animals he’d like to see at the zoo, and one of them might be the most perfect joke for understanding his point of view: it’s a porcupine who had its quills removed so it wouldn’t injure its lover, and now no longer recognizes itself. Torres loves instilling animals and inanimate objects with the sadness and insecurities of humans, in a way that’s both very specific and yet universal, and also never corny.—Garrett Martin