Nothing unifies an absurdist comedy panel show like a common enemy.
Everybody’s Live‘s ninth episode found such a clarifying nemesis in REAL ID, the now mandatory, enhanced, government-issued proof of identity that went into effect today—after literally 20 years of administrative dithering. Assembling a typically diverse and entertaining panel of guests (pal Andy Samberg and comedians Robby Hoffman and Ramy Youssef), John Mulaney also booked an avatar for the night’s topic in AAA spokesperson Aixa Diaz, who gamely (if not especially helpfully) fielded the group’s many questions about the new form of ID.
REAL ID is arguably the perfect foil for stand-ups. Seemingly unnecessary, bureaucratically inconvenient, and fraught with contradictory requirements and benefits, the now-necessary hunk of laminate is basically “What’s the deal?” in wallet-size.
Is it necessary to fly? Sort of—as Diaz tried to untangle things, you apparently need it unless you have your passport. Except that today’s hard deadline might only get you a TSA warning and a few extra questions. Ramy Youssef happily touted his “enhanced drivers license,” only to be informed by Diaz that that particular ID is only Real ID compliant under certain circumstances.
And don’t get Mulaney started on the DMV, perhaps the single most hackneyed stand-up fodder since airline food. Two of the episode’s filmed pieces saw Mulaney standing in line at the Hollywood branch. There too, he received bewildering instructions about why he should have made an appointment, standing in one of two seemingly identical lines, and finally giving up after buying one of his equally tetchy line-mates a roadside hot dog.
The chosen panel was seemingly selected to maximize the kvetch factor, with both trusty sidekick Richard Kind and animatedly unhappy guest Hoffman each doing their own signature tight fives on how ridiculous all this red tape is in their lives. Hoffman states that she’s “too annoying” for officials to detain her, while Kind (chyron: “Incapable of whispering”) admits that he “has had confrontations” on planes in the past. Meanwhile, the stalwart Diaz evokes Mulaney’s semi-mock ire when she, too, waffles on just how this rollout will affect the average traveler. “But that’s the whole f*cking episode!,” Mulaney blurts after Diaz concedes that you can, at least for the moment, still fly without a REAL ID.
Of course, nobody’s coming to Everybody’s Live for in-depth analyses of public policy. (For the very real concerns about privacy and government overreach with this whole kerfuffle, go here.) Honestly, this show functions best when it’s at its loosest, so everyone being so focused on one target works against the formula. Hoffman’s ranting takes over for large stretches, and while she’s amusing, the single-minded thrust of the jokes makes this Everybody’s Live a little too ordinary, as far as things go.
Mulaney does his best to shake up the formula, producing what he claims to be an actual fanfic script for his initial interview with Samberg. (Mulaney pretends to apologize for Everybody’s Live‘s banter “not being as scripted as other talk shows,” a knowing nod toward his show’s defiantly free-floating, anti-plugging style.) Author GothGirl25’s supposed reverie on how such an encounter would go incorporates everything from a sexually predatory, comedian-hunting gorilla who “likes to ass-blast comedians,” Parks and Recreation‘s Ben Wyatt and SNL‘s Stefon, and a rain-soaked Bobby Moynihan, with Samberg and Mulaney acting out the increasingly perilous/erotic scenario with the two-handed aplomb of a couple of SNL guys well versed in such things. The phrase, “Oh no, our little white butts!,” is right in their wheelhouse.
The only other absurdist digressions come from a couple of elderly day players. Mulaney, promising “a sweet and serious note,” deadpans that everybody on the show (from himself and Kind to robotic drinks cabinet Saymo and warm-up comedian Mandal) is based on real people. An old man in the audience is honored as the real John Mulaney, the Korean War vet offering up token apologies for all the friendly fire deaths he was responsible for, while Mandal lays a stone of the grave of Susan B. Anthony, since he was loosely based on the brave suffragette, somehow.
Meanwhile, Samberg gets into a shouting match with his own inspiration, an understandably crotchety old guy pissed that, in researching his role, Samberg slept with the man’s wife. Or maybe it was his building super. At any rate, Andy definitely stole the poor guy’s hat.
Everybody’s Live lives and dies (in L.A.) on inspiration. The best episodes and the worst are separated by an indefinable calculus of silliness, randomness, and blatant unconcern with audience pleasure. When the show works, it’s as a reflection of Mulaney’s persona as a put-on artist who yet is delighted to host his own late-night show in their vein of former guests and inspirations Conan O’Brien and David Letterman. When it doesn’t, Everybody’s Live is still amusing—an show with a John Mulaney monologue up top is worth watching—but you can see the effort. Episodes like tonight are like watching a magician blow an elaborate magic trick. You can appreciate the attempt even as you spot the ace up its sleeve.
Even the musical pairing doesn’t gel as well as usual. Vancouver indie rockers Destroyer and singer-songwriter Jessica Pratt never meld as other unlikely Mulaney match-ups have, with each doing a brief solo number while simply sharing the same stage. They’re both interesting listens, and it’s still fascinating to see how Mulaney’s musical tastes (and Netflix’s cash) produce unexpected harmonies, but there was none of the usual musical interplay here.
Mulaney also continued the apparently very real pursuit of finding three 14-year-old boys to fight him, revealing the pitch video of one young man named Ben (last name redacted by Netflix legal) who states that he is “very confident that [he] is going to beat up John Mulaney.” Mulaney himself provides at least some context for this—again, seemingly real—stunt, bringing up the “crisis of young men” and promising that team fisticuffs with “an overconfident recovering addict with unlimited finds” will provide a more healthy outlet for the lads than the toxic YouTube influencers currently making misogynistic bids for their attention. As with everything Everybody’s Live, the trick is to ferret out the real from the bit, and it really seems like there’s going to be some form of hand-to-hand contest betwixt man and boys on the May 28 season finale, so here’s to whatever that winds up looking like.
This wasn’t a bad episode of Everybody’s Live. Mulaney makes for a ticklishly prankish master of the couch and there were enough oddball touches around the periphery to keep things interesting. Mulaney’s monologue contextualized the switcheroo in government distrust among himself and his fellow liberals with an insightful bent, while Kind sports a “Mets Gala” robe (complete with baseball mitt epaulettes) throughout, cementing his place as late-night’s current all-star side man. It’s just that Everybody’s Live, as improbable as it sounds, took its topic a bit too seriously.
Were we watching the same episode? I found it to be the best one of the 2nd season. The musical guest was meh, but the panel was excellent. Even the callers weren’t problematic.