By: Jonathan Han
In the ever-evolving landscape of comedy, few individuals have managed to captivate and entertain audiences like John. His distinctive style, impeccable timing, and unapologetic authenticity have solidified his position as a household name.
Early is a triple threat in the comedic sense (stand-up, sketch, improv) and the traditional one (singing, dancing, acting). As anyone who has watched Early filibuster in style while hosting a live show knows, he can be just as amusing as anything else.
Early is best known for his scene-stealing flourishes on “Serious Party” and his double act with Kate Berlant, but he shows off a little bit of everything in his new max special, “Now More Than Ever.” From observational stand-up to sultry cover songs, he turns his hand to comedy while portraying the vain, jerky star of the show. Early commits to his songs, unlike comedians whose music amplifies a joke. He gives strutting versions of songs by Britney Spears, Neil Young, and other artists, using a gorgeous falsetto and an upbeat bass line—a special rarely alternates between laugh-out-loud jokes and triumphant cabaret elation. The music slows the comedy, and the gags may not always fit the musical style. He enjoys being elusive, mixing sincerity with parody, and switching between broad topics and rarefied references.
He possesses more than enough charisma to put this show’s pieces together. Although difficult to reach, it is coherent. I believe the joke he tells about the perpetual vanity of his generation, in which he positions himself as its representative, holds the key to his persona.“Here’s what it boils down to. I don’t know how to do my taxes, but I do know how to be a badass. A shell of a badass.”
He gracefully moves around the stage in black leather pants, charmingly engaging with the audience just as affectionately as the camera adores him. The cracked exterior of this shell adds to its visual appeal and makes it enjoyable to observe. You can witness this behavior not only when he showcases his parents in the audience and behaves like a spoiled and insecure child but also when he hilariously mocks the “Access Hollywood” tape by drawing a comparison between Trump and Early, portraying them as closeted 12-year-olds in the locker room, desperately trying to prove their attraction to girls to their friends.
One of the countless factors that make Early difficult to define is that although he relies on confidence and enthusiasm, his standout moments incorporate another aspect, his bookish alertness to language. While Early identifies himself as the archetypal millennial, he harbors a Generation X fixation toward an idealized portrayal of the 1970s culture. The nostalgic film quality and bold red typography of this special bring to mind the aesthetics of a Tarantino film.
Early expresses his longing for the era of Bob Fosse in one illuminating riff, when sleazy choreographers appeared on talk shows and dance could be “kinky and mysterious.” Near the end, Early asks the band to teach him how to play so he may harass them sexually and flirt with them, which results in a visit from the channel’s human resources representative.
Although you get the impression that Early finds such administrative reprimands annoying, you would never catch him responding to them by griping about the cancel culture. Instead of defending himself, he makes a remorseful face and launches into one last song. It’s a mesmerizing, happy rendition of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love.”
Early is lost in thought as the camera pans and flashes of yellow light, his sweat gleaming beneath a disco ball. You should turn up the volume, as instructed by the titles on the screen at the beginning of the special. Watching a special at home won’t allow you to simulate the atmosphere of a New York dance party, but why not try? This is a comedy that encourages you to dance.