![]() ![]() It can be difficult to describe how this works in practice without spoiling things, so let me spoil just a little: The show begins with Acaster-dressed in a dark green jacket with a dark green backdrop, an exercise in color matching that continues with various autumnal shades through all four episodes-dropping to his knees and beginning his show. It’s a new kind of artifice, but it’s one that seeks to say something a little deeper, with less of a blunt edge, about the life we’re living. ![]() What distinguishes Repertoire, and why I feel the need to write about it three years past its release for others like me who haven’t seen it, is that it’s one of those performances that manages to combine stand-up comedy with theater in a way that distances itself from the boring artifice (my opinion) of “normal” stand-up. ![]() In short, a very talented human I had never previously heard of because he’s not American or Ricky Gervais. (I should also note here that Acaster has released a new special since, which I am purposefully not watching until I write this piece.) From the start, I was captured, to the point that I began to seek him out on YouTube between episodes and learned that he’s a star of the British “panel show” circuit-an impossibly quick and naturally hilarious comic who is also a best-selling author and podcast host. It’s a special from 2018 with four separate “episodes,” each about 50 minutes long, all of them tied loosely together by recurring themes and, while viewable on their own, richer if watched in sequence. I can’t remember who recommended James Acaster to me, but for whatever reason I went against my normal instinct and watched the first episode of Repertoire on Netflix. And I am definitely too old to change in any meaningful way now whatever rut I’m in is permanent. Someone standing up in front of me saying, “here’s a joke,” or loosely disguising a joke beneath a true story that is probably fake, doesn’t press my buttons. I am all for brilliant people trying to make me laugh, but for whatever reason, I require a degree of misdirection. I understood why these performers were good, and I understood why the material should be funny, but the format felt antiquated and superficial in a way that put me off. #James acaster repertoire tv#The best way I can explain it is that watching stand-up felt the same as watching a TV show with a laugh track. That show seemed brilliant, but Louis C.K.’s stand-up did nothing for me. In many cases, I loved different types of art created by stand-ups, like FX’s Louie. Not even the cool stand-up I was supposed to like, by performers like Demetri Martin or Eugene Mirman or whoever. As a comedy fan, I loved TV, movies, live improv (I spent three years in New York City essentially living at UCB), sketch, podcasts…literally any other form of the medium. For the longest time, I couldn’t really enjoy stand-up comedy, but I kept this opinion to myself because it sounded snobby. ![]()
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