Save this article to read it later.
Find this story in your accountsSaved for Latersection.
A young comic is onstage.
Another comedian watches their act, nursing a beer he bought with a drink ticket.
One name you wont hear whispered in this situation is Bamford.
EmulatingMaria Bamfordwould require techniques beyond the ability of any beginning comic.
She combines extreme, confessional vulnerability with distinct, original character voices.
Her characters interact in lean dialogues, without scene description.
Her voice acting is so good, she doesnt need it.
YouTube has them all in orderhere.
That this is an online-dating bit is partly what makes it so fantastic.
Internet dating is as well-worn a topic for 2010s stand-ups as I am the best was for 80s rappers.
A comic asking Anyone on eharmony?
is usually a cue to go to the bathroom.
Bamford mines it for eight minutes of genius.
Internet dating is only the launchpad to get to her true subject: the internal life of Maria Bamford.
No comedian provides a more riveting portrayal of their own fear, doubt, and despair.
Its difficult territory for comedy.
Smashing Pumpkins made millions off feelings like these, but they didnt need to get laughs every six seconds.
Bamfords technical excellence makes it possible.
Im on eharming me, as well as Attatch.glom and OKStupid, Bamford begins.
She puts the punchline right in the setup, eliminating pointless Have you seen this?
The whole joke lasts 12 seconds.
She then recalls a comic saying unmarried women over 40 have something wrong with them.
Instead of nailing this straw man with a scathing retort like a typical comedian, Bamford acts devastated.
She lets this information rock her world.
she wails, Nonononono!
She says Im fun like an apologetic dad wondering why his kids dont want to go camping with him.
The audience laughs as they stare at a basic human fear.
Bamford proceeds to shove this fear in their faces.
She conjures a dark vision of her elderly self in a nursing home.
She launches into a two-person scene with no narration whatsoever.
She doesnt have to describe the old version of herself or the nurse she simply becomes them.
Bamford brings her dismal senile future to life with gut-wrenchingly banal specifics.
She hallucinates a puzzle of an old mill and looks for pieces of sky.
Not only will we do imaginary jigsaw puzzles in our final years, they will be dull as hell.
This glimpse of the tragic last act of Bamfords life gets five hard laughs in 50 seconds.
She has the comedy chops to make facing this nightmare fun.
Bamford shuffles between three voices.
She nails every line.
Attempting a live one-woman sitcom is daunting.
No wonder fledgling comics dont try it.
Bamford then dramatizes her mistrust of prospective dates.
Its her second seemingly effortless mini-dialogue in two minutes.
It gets three laughs in 20 seconds.
Bamfords next character has the romantic confidence she longs for.
Asked if she and her partner ever fight about anything, she replies He doesnt like onions!
with a contemptible giggle.
Bamford wants us to feel envy and resentment toward this woman.
To achieve that, most comics would present a stereotype out of a bad Groundlings improv class.
Theyd fear you might not get their point otherwise.
More than any other comedian, her characters feel like real people.
Many comics project competence and control in their delivery.
Bamford tells her jokes in a voice full of hesitation, pauses, andums.
She highlights her insecurity with every syllable.
Its an insecurity we all feel from time to time, regardless of how we present ourselves.
They get used to her delivery as the show goes on.
These normal people who lack self-doubt now seem unnatural.
Halfway through this chunk, Bamford gets interrupted.
Her Confidant Woman character suggests you oughta be the one before you meet the one.
One audience member must have suffered through this platitude before.
She emits a strange, animalistic cackle halfway through Bamfords sentence, and the crowd erupts.
Bamford spends the next 35 seconds finishing her joke.
Then she admits, I got a little confused …
Girl, you got a loud laugh, earning thunderous applause.
She tells the woman she loves her but shes a little distracting.
This gets 20 more seconds of laughter from the crowd.
Its like watching an infielder snag an unexpected hit, calmly refocus themselves, and turn a double play.
Bamford gives us a ring-side seat to her internal conflict.
WHY DONT YOU GO TO THE GYM AND HAVE A BABY!
she yells at herself, mushing all of our self-criticisms into one absurd command.
She recites her old dating profile, the bio of a hyper-competent super-person.
Then we hear her current, truthful ad.
Its a portrait of rock-bottom dysfunction.
The first profile, the one full of lies, is presented with Bamfords signature nervous delivery.
She is full of the anxiety of someone lying for acceptance.
The second profile is delivered with the confidence of one of her characters.
The audience can relate.
Inside, however, we are often shaking and sputtering.
Were afraid to speak our true thoughts.
We sometimes even crouch, naked, in the shower, and get real small.
These are uncomfortable, shameful feelings.
Getting an audience to laugh at them takes expertise, and ironically, confidence.
It takes real courage to proclaim your innermost anxieties to strangers.
This alone is beyond a beginning comic.
Transforming these thoughts into a hilarious, cathartic performance takes more than bravery.
These are the skills necessary to make excruciating emotions enjoyable, and Maria Bamford has mastered them all.
