Norm Macdonald is not a universal
comedian. By that, I don’t think everyone will find him funny. I guess it’s due
to his pseudo-lackluster, simplistic, dopey delivery and seemingly corny, old-fashioned
material. Me, personally, I like
him. I like how he doesn’t care if you
think he’s funny or not. As long as a
joke amuses him, he will tell it.
You can either laugh with him or not.
He doesn’t care. In fact, he
often revels in front of a hostile audience.
It doesn’t necessarily mean he disrespects his audience or doesn’t care
if his audience won’t have a good time.
Quite the opposite. He respects
their intelligence and he won’t be patronizing.
He won’t force laughs. He allows
you to “get” them at your own pace. At
the same time, he won’t compromise his comedy.
Moreover, I genuinely find him
funny. His jokes, though they appear to
be dumb or plain at a surface level, are shockingly clever and well-crafted. Like other great comedians, he doesn’t waste
words and phrases. Though these words
and phrases may appear random as he delivers them in a nonchalant and even
absent-minded manner, make no mistake, everything is calculated to bring about optimum comedy. He especially thrives in long-winded
“shaggy dog story”-like jokes. The Moth
Joke, Dolphin Joke, and Logic Professor Joke are epic examples. Hence, his guestings on Late Night talk shows,
especially on Conan, in which he often tells this kind of jokes, are utterly
enjoyable (Youtube them). Another iconic
display of his unorthodox humor is during the Comedy Central Roast of Bob
Saget, wherein he was instructed by producers to be savage, but he instead went
the opposite direction, intentionally telling the lamest jokes and burns possible. Ironically, it became such a hilarious set –
one of the best in the history of roasts.
Norm Macdonald has always been an
interesting comedian, and with all his talent and genius in display, he has
made sure to make his new Netflix special Hitler’s
Dog, Gossip & Trickery to be downright delightful, worthwhile, and funny.
It opens without
any entrance or introduction. It starts with footage of Norm walking in nature while a joke is being told midway. The scene then soon
transition towards Norm on stage. It’s as if you
entered the comedy club while Norm’s performance is already ongoing. And in the same perfunctory way it started,
it ends – as if you have left the comedy club while Norm is still performing. In between the start and end, Norm performs
his set without moving from his place on stage.
The cameras focus exclusively on him, and there are no cuts showing the audience,
though sometimes, when the camera takes a low-angle, worm’s-eye-view shot behind
Norm, some stage light-illuminated faces near the stage are seen. How the whole thing is framed reflects Norm’s unconventional, minimalist, nonchalant style.
Norm covers a lot in this special. I won’t detail any of his bits, but let me enumerate some notable topics on top of my head: suicide, “magic telephones” (i.e. smartphones), the death of his father,
writing his pseudo-autobiographical book, Las Vegas, past presidents, Germany,
LSD, the moon landing, metaphors, waiters offering deserts, and – of course –
the eponymous Hitler’s dog. They are jokes
and absurd observations that are only funny when Norm tells them, and he tells
them wonderfully.
I really had a good time with this special. My only disappointment is it doesn’t have
one of his trademark lengthy jokes, like his “Janice and shallow graves” joke
in Me Doing Standup.
In the end, Hitler’s Dog, Gossip & Trickery is a fantastic treat for fans
of Norm and his unique style and humor.
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