By now it’s a baked-in rule: Every new late-night show gets a grace period—no matter how graceless its beginnings.
That said, John Mulaney’s new late-night entry on Netflix, Everybody’s Live, may be the rare show that doesn’t need it. Last night it not only made a legit case for its existence in the late-night ecosystem right from the start, it also looked like it had worked most of the gracelessness out of its system.
For some that may not be a good thing, because one of the reasons Mulaney’s six-episode Everybody’s in L.A. got such an enthusiastic reception last spring was its seeming disdain for having a handle on what was supposed to happen next.
But whatever it sacrificed in looking a skosh more coherently produced, it gained in looking more comfortable with its quirks.
It didn’t look like it was straining to re-invent the format; it mostly looked like a rearrangement of the atoms.
A little Letterman here, a little Conan there, a notable strain of SNL, mixed with Donahue taking live calls and Suze Orman telling you how to spend your money. The genre familiarity worked to ease a viewer through the slightly bent, consistently appealing style.
Mulaney possesses every element needed for a strong late-night host: charm, charisma, playfulness. Most importantly, he can be counted on to be funny.
His humor is both witty and distinctly quirky. If the premiere had a signature comedy bit, it was the Willy Loman group interview, which brought together a roomful of actors who have played the classic Arthur Miller role—including familiar names like Christopher Lloyd, Anthony LaPaglia, and Rob Morrow—to answer questions, as Willy, about child obesity and movie violence, as well as to recite, at the same time, Willy’s famous “promises made” speech.
John Mulaney asks eleven Willy Lomans to recite the "promises made" speech–at the same time. #EverybodysLive pic.twitter.com/wNeL1wzXZr
— LateNighter (@latenightercom) March 13, 2025
We’ve not seen a concept quite like that on late-night TV before. (And it was funny.)
As in the run of the earlier iteration, Mulaney brought on a truly eclectic guest couch, and in each case had them interact with a caller discussing the wisdom of lending people money.
That was the show’s “theme,” another show foundation—at least for now.
The main attraction, or sell, of the show is that it is truly live, available to Netflix subscribers worldwide no matter their time zone. (It can also be seen not-live on the service should you live in, say, Paris, where it airs live at 4am.)
Mulaney, in maroon jacket and matching shirt, emphasized that live-ness from the top, citing the 7:01 start time in L.A., as well as an up-to-date weather report: raining.
He engaged with his announcer/sidekick Richard Kind for some light banter. Kind may give Ed McMahon a challenge for most consistently amused sidekick.
The monologue explained the name change, dropping the “in L.A.” from last spring, because Mulaney said, it turned out “people don’t like L.A.”
He got personal about his marriage to Olivia Munn and their new daughter, as well as Munn’s cancer battle. That was sincere but not sentimental. It ended with some unusually raunchy jokes by other late-night standards.
The guests came out early, because they are integrated into the theme. Michael Keaton, a dependably great late-night guest, was asked about his loaning past, which wasn’t much at all. The night’s financial expert, Jessica Roy of the San Francisco Chronicle, joined him.
That didn’t seem as odd a couch mix as we saw in the earlier run because she had a fizzy enough personality.
The series of phone calls from average viewers with money issues were notable for the smoothness of the execution, unlike some of the messier attempts last spring, as well as their somewhat unusual, though seemingly real situations.
Lest one think the calls were long pre-screened, when one caller mentioned a relative “using” and Mulaney didn’t understand the reference, it certainly seemed real.
Joan Baez was bubbly and engaging as she joined the couch. Mulaney asked about her experiences with Martin Luther King and she revealed he liked to tell dirty stories during long car rides.
She also injected the night’s only political material, confirming first that she was encouraged to say anything she wanted. She wanted to say, “our democracy is going up in flames” and denounce the “incompetent billionaires” involved. But she did it without being strident in the least, which might have upset the show’s upbeat tone.
Like Keaton, she didn’t go in for loaning people money.
Fred Armisen, a Mulaney pal, also didn’t advance the theme much, but he came with a bit. He and Mulaney promoted his album of sound effects. Not much there in the “car rental door” sounds, but the bottles being thrown away behind a bar at closing time was silly enough to work.
Not so much Kind’s celebrity birthday citations, with the punchline that Al Jarreau is actually dead; nor a bit with Tracy Morgan in the audience as “King Latifah.” This seemed the most obvious SNL homage, though they did it better themselves a few days ago with “Lord Gaga.”
What truly cemented the successful transition to a more polished presentation was the closing musical number from LA-based hip hop group Cypress Hill. You don’t get a performance like that, including a 17-piece backing orchestra, without some serious planning.
Special props to the direction for capturing Joan Baez getting down with Kind and the finance lady as the vocalists chanted, “We wanna take a big hit of that good sh*t.”
Yes, Mulaney presided again with a literal clip board in hand, but he and the show knew what they were doing all night long.
What they were doing was putting on a still fresh, still promising late-night show.
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