Jen Kirkman's I'm Gonna Die Alone (And I Feel Fine) has a very funny routine about being a predatory cougar. Photo / Supplied
Opinion by Karl Puschmann
Karl Puschmann is Culture and entertainment writer for the New Zealand Herald. His fascination lies in finding out what drives and inspires creative people.
Menu of stand-up comedy specials brightens a dreary night in.
You 'aving a laugh, mate? If you're not then you really should take another look at Netflix. They don't make much of a song and dance about it but the online streaming service really isn't joking around when it comes to comedy.
I only discovered this recently. True Detective had mercifully put me out of my misery by drawing to a close and I'd found myself at a bit of a viewing loose end. It was a drizzly Monday evening and we needed something to watch.
Grabbing the remote I started clicking around the channels and restlessly scrolling through the various streaming options connected to the telly. Shows flickered on to the screen in hypnotic five-second bursts before being judged not worthy and getting ruthlessly dispatched back to the void.
It was shaping up to be a long night. The perfect show for the conditions refused to reveal itself. Everything that crossed my path was either too serious, too boring, too reality, too lame or too already seen.
My partner, having accompanied her master procrastinator boyfriend down this endless path before, made a call. What she said was unprintable but loosely translates as "that show there will do just fine, my love".
In that moment I snapped out of my hunter/gatherer trance and realised I'd led us into the deepest darkest recesses of Netflix's sub-genre menus.
We were surrounded by stand-up comedy specials. The screen was filled with people holding microphones. Faces smirked at us. Others looked bemused. Some looked - shudder - wacky.
Fortunately the remote was locked on likeable Parks and Recreation star Aziz Ansari. To be honest I didn't feel that his amusingly genial storytelling style was quite right for the exact circumstances of our Monday night, but I did know I'd reached the outer limits of Hayley's search tolerance.
I clicked play and gave thanks that the remote hadn't been pointing at nearby Rob Schneider when my search had come to its abrupt end.
Since then we've simply devoured Netflix's stand-up offering. At last count there were around 60 comedy specials on offer, with a good mix between high-profile comedians and plenty of up-and-comers.
Of course, not all of it is gold. But the ratio of gems to junk is favourable. That said, the selection can be overwhelming so I thought I'd run through my Top 5.
Marc Maron's neurotically ramshackle Thinky Pain was an early favourite. Maron's a classic over-sharer, with a raw, angry honesty that's seen his podcast WTF become a juggernaut. He seems fairly underprepared, but admits as much within the opening minutes of shambling on stage. I don't know if there's enough here to attract new fans as he is a very polarising figure, but if you're into his brand, as I am, you'll dig it.
My next recommendation goes from underprepared to not at all prepared. Todd Barry's Crowd Work Tour isn't a stand-up set, but is instead a sort of highlight reel from various shows of his recent tour. As the title suggests it's entirely Barry flying fast and loose and interacting with the audience. It's best described as reverse heckling as he scopes his audience like a comedy sniper shooting down anyone foolish enough to catch his attention with a sly, barbed wit. It's extremely funny, especially when he encounters a drunken hipster in Portland with an egg obsession.
We started watching Chelsea Handler's tour diary Uganda Be Kidding Me, but that got switched off after one lame story too many. This led us to taking a punt on Jen Kirkman's I'm Gonna Die Alone (And I Feel Fine). I hadn't heard of her but her set was very funny, especially her bit about being a predatory cougar and hooking up with a 20-year-old drummer.
Bill Burr and his show I'm Sorry You Feel That Way is another top pick. He's another in a proud line of angry, "he-did-not-just-say-that" comedians who invite controversy. But he's cleverer than most and his routines are fricken funny. Abrasively amusing.
Hands down the best special of Netflix's bountiful bunch is Mike Birbiglia's My Girlfriend's Boyfriend. I hadn't heard of this guy before, but this show completely blew me away. Birbiglia masterfully details how he lost his belief in love with tales from his hopelessly lovelorn past. It's brilliantly funny and one of the best comedy shows I've ever seen.
With more exclusives on the way and new specials regularly added, Netflix's commitment to stand-up is to be applauded. There's room for improvement, of course. The most obvious being the addition of some local flavour.