No viral videos. No interviews. No recycled breaking news. No TV recaps. No ass-kissing. No bias. No mercy.
Just honest, unfiltered, long-form reviews written by professional, knowledgeable comedy critics.
You Might Remember Me is the rich, moving book that Hartman’s legacy deserves, a tribute to a guy who was as sunny and sensitive as his best-known characters were slick and silly.
Even in its infancy, High Plains’ booking and organization already feels tighter than some similarly alt-friendly, comic-run events, living up to its name by balancing giddy crowds with half-lidded stoner grins.
Figuring out what makes Hamburger so magnetic is part of the masochistic fun. Is it his carnie inflection? His abusive, unpredictable rage and profanity? His spot-on critiques of consumer culture that have made him a must-follow on Twitter? Ultimately it’s all in service of the mood he creates.
Roy has earned his comparisons to noted ranters Lewis Black and David Cross, who like to rip limb-from-limb the same societal idiocies and personal failings, so it’s also satisfying to listen to Roy further differentiate on No Enlightenment.
The sort of concise, actionable advice usually missing from most showbiz tell-alls… How to Succeed is a manual for aspiring comics and young job-seekers, a brisk, level-headed tome that skips the self-aggrandizing and goes straight to the real-world wisdom.
Kilgariff’s a fine singer, with a wavering, vulnerable voice that falls somewhere between coffee shop balladeer and demented children’s entertainer. Her saccharine delivery complements the murky timbre of her acoustic guitar and sells the jokes against the often bleak, angry lyrics.
Tole fares best when focusing on life’s intimate, cringe-worthy moments–most of which involve sexual embarrassment and end with a breathless, reference-heavy rant. But even then it feels diluted by his reliance on profanity.
It’s easy to envision the fest getting bigger and buzzier next year, since it so easily hit the mark in giving Denver the marquee comedy event it’s been missing.
The core of the fest is the dozens of live shows happening across the city, and the larger, more L.A.-saturated crowds were evident from the start.
Comedy festivals are for everyone, but comedy addicts are especially well-served because they get to gorge on the stuff until they pass out, post-Thanksgiving dinner style, in a pile of aching stomach muscles and alcoholic bliss.
Ferguson is a sharp writer and stand-up animal who’s only gotten more feral with the time he’s spent in his Late Late Show cage.
