What’s the Deal With John Mulaney’s Live Netflix Show?
When Netflix announced John Mulaney Presents: Everybody’s in L.A. a month ago, comedy nerds wondered what exactly the show would be like. The information was scarce; all the press release promised was that it would run for six episodes, stream live, be a “comically unconventional show,” and “feature special guests and field pieces shot in Los Angeles.” Was it going to be a sketch show, variety show, or something else? The answer was finally revealed on Friday, May 3, at 7 p.m. PT, when the first episode aired on the streamer. Ahead of the remaining five episodes airing every night this week, we’re here to help you know what to expect.
What’s the show like?
A late-night talk show. There is a talk-show set, talk-show camera blocking, and a live studio audience. There is a monologue told by a man (John Mulaney) standing in a suit, guests who sit on a couch, field pieces, a musical guest, and what would generally be referred to as a “desk piece,” even though there is not a desk. Each episode centers on a different L.A. topic to explore with the premiere focusing on coyotes (the upcoming topics are palm trees, helicopters, ghosts, and earthquakes). In the first episode, Mulaney features comedian guests alongside coyote advocate Tony Tucci, takes phone calls about coyote stories, and cuts to a producer on the lookout for coyotes. But the episode also features segments completely unrelated to the theme, like Will Ferrell as record producer Lou Adler complaining that Mulaney doesn’t party anymore, an interview with Ray J, and two field pieces that involve a bunch of comedians pretending to attend an open house.
So it’s a normal talk show?
Oh, sorry. Not at all. It’s not exactly a parody of a talk show or a completely ironic “talk show,” but it’s clearly meant to push back on a format that has grown increasingly rigid and planned. Unlike recent attempts at talk-show send-ups like The Eric Andre Show or The Chris Gethard Show, Everybody’s in L.A. isn’t chaotic. It’s much more bewildering and disquieting, not unlike L.A. itself. Toward the end of the premiere, Mulaney brings guests Jerry Seinfeld and Tucci back out along with comedian Stavros Halkias — not to play a game or something but to just talk about coyotes a little more. Because it’s live, they can’t edit around any awkward pauses; in fact, Mulaney leans into the awkwardness. There are long stretches in the conversations in which he doesn’t really talk, which allow for little moments of flailing you never see on a typical late-night show. After such an exchange between Tucci and Seinfeld talking about scaring away coyotes by putting bolts in a can, Mulaney says, “Uh … Let’s go to a call, because you guys have a great handle on this,” to which Seinfeld replies, “This is the weirdest show I have ever been on in my life.”
Okay, so if it’s not a normal talk show, what is it?
Early Late Night With David Letterman seems like the North Star here; Everybody’s in L.A. has a similar Whatever we do, that’s the show quality. For some of the other Letterman-derivative shows, this would mean coming up with a crazy idea and really going for it. In contrast, Everybody’s in L.A. has a bunch of small arbitrary ideas that are executed almost haphazardly; to introduce the idea that a producer can interrupt the show at any moment if he sees a coyote, only for him to never see a coyote, has the right mix of silly and Screw you for wanting a real show. Ray J’s interview segment quickly becomes a bizarre conversation about his current divorce, and it’s unclear how much Mulaney is being reverent or irreverent. The show also has a Late Night With Conan O’Brien influence through Ferrell’s Adler bit and its loose, just-trying-to-make-each-other laugh quality. Then there are interviews with people in L.A. just living their life (like a hobby fisherman and a guy who puts up billboard signage), which has a little Letterman in it but also feels like How to With John Wilson in its mixture of deadpan comedy and bittersweet sentimentality.
Is there a robot?
Yes. The third “guest” during the premiere is Saymo, a delivery robot that can be seen roaming the streets of L.A. Mulaney takes a ginger ale out of Saymo, looks to the camera, and says, “Ginger ale: It’s not just for sick.” Later, Saymo comes back through the set for no reason. No word yet if Saymo or another notable L.A. robot will appear in future episodes.
Is there a Richard Kind?
Yes! Specifically, the Richard Kind. He is the Ed McMahon/Andy Richter–esque sidekick. In the first episode, he rebukes Saymo because he doesn’t believe in robots taking people’s jobs.
Thank God. But is it really live?
Yes. When Halkias is first introduced, he tells a joke (“Going from Ray J to me, we just lost ten inches of penis on this show, man”), then instantly looks saddened because no one laughs. Then it becomes clear that his mic worked for the broadcast but not in the studio, so he asks Tucci to lean over so he can say the joke again into a working mic. The episode now has an “Edited from a previous livestream” disclaimer on Netflix. (The Stav moment made the cut.)
I know it’s supposed to be a limited series, but do you really expect me to believe that? What are the odds it’s a backdoor pilot for a live Netflix late-night show that Mulaney will host for the rest of his career?
That seems unlikely. Early in the premiere, Mulaney says, “We are only doing six episodes, so the show never hits its groove.” That is so much the vibe of the show that it’s hard to imagine doing it as a regular, nightly thing. Its success, especially following The Sack Lunch Bunch, would more likely mean that Netflix will continue funding Mulaney’s comedic experiments.
Interesting. Is it any good?
Yeah! While it can be awkward or almost amateurish at times, there’s never the sense that this isn’t exactly the show Mulaney and his team were hoping to make. (The one exception is the two open-house segments with comedians in town for the Netflix Is a Joke festival, which feel more like a spon-con commercial break than a piece of comedy.) There is something frustrating, if not existentially depressing, about the majority of talk shows being so glossy and well produced, which is why Everybody’s in L.A.’s shagginess makes for such a fascinating and thrilling watch. But it’s not entirely an anti-comedy exercise, either. There are plenty of moments — like Mulaney’s monologue about L.A., everything Kind does, and Ferrell’s bit — that offer the sort of big-joke comedy writing we’ve come to expect from Mulaney. And the interviews with Angelenos and interstitial cinematography/score balance the studio segments with a degree of mood and heart to the project. Ultimately, it’s a strange, funny show about a strange, funny place, and Mulaney has the skill and the taste level to pull it off.
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