Ope Pardon, No. 26: Imitation J

​Let me start with a confession that won’t be a confession to anyone who knows me: I love John Mulaney.

My friend introduced me to his comedy in college with the vanity catnip of saying that the way he told stories reminded her of the way we told stories. This was The Top Part era John — Salt n’ Pepper Diner and Nickle Shot Night John.

Ever since then, I have been a devotee of his standup and various other performances and appearances (with the exception of the sitcom — there is a limit to even my love).

I also quote him to such a degree and in such a specific manner (primarily in the form of transition words and emphasis placement) that after a decade, his comedy is an inseparable part of how I speak English, though it might take a fellow John Mulaney stan (of which I have several in my life) to recognize the intended Mulaney intonation in a text message or to realize that anytime I say “mmm gross!” it is a Mulaney reference.

However, by some minor miracle or just common sense, I never developed a toxic parasocial relationship with him. I never cared too much about his marriage, nor thought it was an especially interesting part of his persona, and never thought he was a role model, though I admit I found his public actions as an ally during any number of the social justice moments of the last seven years admirable.

When I heard about, well, everything that happened with him circa December 2020 — relapse, divorce, quickie rebound and the allegedly less than upstanding behavior amidst all three — I was sad about the relapse, but mostly because I have a mildly problematic obsession with addiction and it was nothing really personal about him.

I also didn’t quite get the big deal. As a true stan I felt like he had already explained himself in Kid Gorgeous: “Never? You’re never going to have kids? Look, I don’t know never — 14 years ago I smoked cocaine the night before my college graduation and now I’m afraid to get a flu shot, people change.”

Which is just to say, I don’t really care if you don’t like him. I will defend his comedy and storytelling on a technical level if we want to have that conversation, but if you don’t find him funny, that’s cool — art, especially comedy, isn’t objective.

If you find his fans annoying, I get that too. They/we are!

Moreover, I simply have no interest in litigating whether he is a good guy or not, and I will briefly say that — as of this writing — nothing that has come out about him comes even close to requiring “art vs artist” renegotiation in my mind and his comedy is not unhinged anti-trans rants so leave me alone.

Anyways — it will surprise few people to learn that in January 2023, I popped over to London to see my No. 1 boy’s latest set.

Almost exactly six years earlier, I had seen the Kid Gorgeous set in Chicago and sitting in the theater I couldn’t wait to tell my friends how great it was and to butcher the jokes in retelling. (I wrote an effusive review about it/him when the special came out too.)

The weekend I was in London, “John Mulaney has a bit about that” came up totally organically several times in the preceding days and I felt reassured that my friend, who was hosting me and very gamely offered to come with, would like the show. And she might have! Even more than me!

You see, I left From Scratch deeply disappointed. Counterintuitively, then, I was still very keen to watch the special this week to see if a) he had ironed out the kinks and refined a better show and b) I was right about it feeling like he was doing an imitation of himself.

The answer — I watched last night on release day — is a little bit both.

Baby J, as the special itself is called, has a number of very funny bits that were not in the London-era From Scratch set and I feel less strongly that it is actively bad, though I still feel firmly that it is the worst of his specials.

I’ve read two reviews from critics I like that both focused on the distance Mulaney chooses to keep from the audience and the special as an exercise in reputation management in the context of everything. (The reviews are from Kathryn VanArendonk at Vulture and Alison Herman at Variety.) I agree with their assessments — on all those fronts, I think the special is decent, fine, serviceable, good.

And I want to be clear: My qualms have nothing to do with the material. The fact it’s largely about his intervention, rehab and drug addiction was, as Mulaney might say, a given. The show felt less universal, for obvious reasons, with fewer jokes we’ll be quoting in 10 years, but upon second viewing, I am more inclined to think that he has sufficiently peppered in observations that will be easy to reference.

For me, what pains me — because much like watching the Warriors lose it pains me not to love a Mulaney special — has everything to do with the writing and, more disappointingly, the delivery.

John Mulaney is theoretically a very imitable comedian. His cadence and performance, the precision in his storytelling and the words he chooses to emphasize have formed a very identifiable style. It is easy to mimic him or do an impression when the joke is that you sound like John Mulaney, but very hard to sound like John Mulaney when the joke is simply meant to be a John Mulaney joke.

In the audience for From Scratch, I couldn’t help but feel like I was watching Mulaney do an impression of himself, like he was trying to fit his new stories into his old joke set-ups. I did not realize how much nuanced difference there was in his delivery, emphasis and story structure across his work until it felt like I could hear the echoes as they were recycled.

Ironically, he more or less starts the show (after a very bizarre song and dance number) by asserting that he “has kind of a different vibe now” but the preceding and subsequent minutes suggest not only is his vibe the same, so is his playbook. One could, if they were so dedicated, map many of the jokes in Baby J onto earlier Mulaney lines.

I recognize this because it’s more or less the most frequent way I quote him. As I said, whether it’s something the average person who speaks to me clocks or not, and whether I even do it intentionally at this point or not, I often write or text things that, in my head, fit a specific John Mulaney joke. I am often quoting how he says something as much as I am quoting something he says. Which is just to say, I am very familiar with his templates because I use them so much myself.

I didn’t think Baby J was particularly good primarily because I only laughed out loud during the GQ bit and only occasionally chuckled otherwise, and secondly because I don’t really want to watch it again or feel compelled to tell everyone I know to watch it.

But also, I couldn’t see myself quoting it. There was only one, maybe two, sequiturs that I could imagine ingratiating into my own speech. Before I went to London, I was thinking I might write about the show and my relationship to him so I rewatched his specials and I tried to make a list of everything I had adopted from him and it was…long. But I don’t see any additions coming from Baby J. Which is fine, I guess. Better to have my own vocabulary anyways.

I am not super sure how to end this — what to say about Baby J. I don’t think it’s a good special, but I also don’t think it’s a bad special.

It’s fine.

[To be read with the intonation of John Mulaney describing Catholic mass:] It’s an hour!

Related thoughts:

• I hate that Fred Armisen was at his intervention, that man is a psychopath and it’s never talked about??

• The Rolex bit felt like the most classic Mulaney while also not coming off like an impression of himself

• The GQ reading was really the longest sustained laugh for me

• The changing table call-back was A+

• My personal ranking of filmed Mulaney specials: Kid Gorgeous, Comeback Kid, New In Town, Baby J — but if I went through and ranked bit-by-bit Comeback Kid might actually get the edge