The Spit Take – Professional Comedy Criticism

Gabriel Iglesias doesn’t so much tell jokes as act them out like classic radio plays, inhabiting various characters with a snappy, head-spinning precision that would make most vocal actors jealous.

Williams’s true strength lies in the deconstruction of his observations. He can boil down any broad topic to its most basic form and present the absolute absurdity of something that seems so sane.

Much of the humor lies not just in the calloused delivery, but the speed with which she attacks her targets. She’ll climb over any mountain to get to a punchline, and her focus is so intense it’s both scary and awesome.

The longtime and long waist-lined comedian may still be an old pro as he moves into his late 50s, but his material hasn’t grown with him.

Too often, Izzard feels like he’s having a conversation for himself, by himself—more like he’s actually struggling with What It All Means as opposed to mining it for laughs.

It’s almost as if he’s a comedic guidance counselor, pointing his audience to better decisions. But at the same time, he’ll be the first to admit it’s all kind of bullshit.

More than simple celebration and appreciation, Finest Hour depicts Oswalt as a man learning as he goes. He still talks plenty of shit, but he also turns the focus on himself.

Them Idiots: Whirled Tour is not quite the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, but it’s damn close.

If you hate Mencia, you’re just going to hear the jingoistic setup, the easy applause line, and quit. If you love Mencia, you’ll probably agree with the sentiment, and you’ll still be listening when he gets to the punchline.

Miller is still exploring who he is as a comedian; if you don’t like a specific joke or song, fast forward a couple of minutes and he will probably be doing something different.

He has a knack for slowly building a story and connecting disparate ideas into a greater whole without the audience even realizing what he’s doing, all while maintaining a low-key charm.