Kicking off with a video montage of Catherine as a toddler, we see how she was loved, precocious, and fascinated by herself. We then meet adult Catherine, who spends the next hour being loved, precocious, and fascinated by herself. That’s the joke. It’s deliberate, it’s knowing, it’s just not enough to build an entire comedy special around. That’s not to say that there are gaps. Every moment here is accounted for, 60 minutes chockablock with asides, hair flicks, silly posturing, pouting, character exaggerations, and shout outs. In this manufactured stream of consciousness onslaught, every gesture is assiduously scripted, every silly movement choreographed. Set amongst the songs and observations, they’re meticulously designed to stop you noticing the one thing that’s missing: jokes.
There’s a DVD extra, wow I’m dating myself, on a Dom Joly compilation (I did it again), where he goes onstage at the Comedy Store and just asks the audience non-sequitur questions. “Any smokers in?” “Yes.” Then he moves straight on to the next question. What’s amazing about the clip is he doesn’t get heckled or booed off. The audience goes along with it. Why? Conviction. He looks and sounds like a comic, and thus the audience are tricked into thinking he’s a comic. That’s the true secret of comedy, confidence. Funniness be damned.
If Netflix here had made a prank, a way to illustrate how attitude alone can dupe the audience and reviewers into thinking they’d just seen some actual content, and funny content at that, I’d give it five stars. Alas it gets two, and one is for the poor piano player mugging away in the background, forced to grin along whilst dead inside.
The other is for Catherine Cohen herself, who I have no doubt will be a star. Whilst this entire exercise lays bare the concept of what I call “in the room funny”, she got those reviews and won that award because they wanted to back a winner, and a winner she will be. If Cohen can power an hour essentially on charisma alone, surely television and film beckons, with someone else writing the script.
In the meantime, if you want jokes, laughter, and insight, with a twinge of Jew, I’ve got two words for you: Sarah. Silverman.
