As Thomas Wolfe once wrote (and I believe I’m accurate here): You can go home again despite the fact your new sitcom on Fox just pulled a 0.7/2 rating among viewers 18 to 49, attracting 1 million fewer eyeballs than your lead-in, a “Family Guy” repeat. Of course, Thomas Wolfe also (and actually) wrote the classic “You Can’t Go Home Again,” which offers this uplifting advice: “Make your mistakes, take your chances, look silly, but keep on going. Don’t freeze up.” So I guess the lesson here is, Thomas Wolfe sent mixed signals.
Perhaps John Mulaney can relate.
When he arrived in Chicago last week, he didn’t look as beaten-up as advertised. For several weeks he had taken, to use the words of his fellow Chicagoan, the president of the United States, “a shellacking.” Mulaney, however, in a black velvet sport coat, gray dress pants and skinny brown necktie, held a look of confidence, concealing, if you looked closely, an air of exhaustion. Either way, it was better than you might have expected: Mulaney came home to do a stand-up show at the UP Comedy Club in Old Town on Wednesday — the show was announced quietly, sold out quickly — exactly a month after the premiere of “Mulaney,” the sitcom that was supposed to raise the profile of this former “Saturday Night Live” scribe to the superstar level. “Mulaney” attracted a remarkable cadre of talent: Lorne Michaels, Martin Short, Nasim Pedrad, Elliott Gould, writer Dan Mintz (better known as the voice of Tina on “Bob’s Burgers”), former “Seinfeld” director Andy Ackerman.
Then it received some of the lowest ratings and nastiest reviews for a new TV show this fall.
For a comedy writer with a lot of influential cheerleaders whose ascendance seemed certain, Mulaney instead had his first setback. Rotten Tomatoes ranked it last among new series, critically speaking; Fox cut the number of episodes it would produce; and though the network hasn’t officially canceled “Mulaney” yet, the authoritative TV By the Numbers ratings website lists it as dead (despite Fox airing the episodes already shot).
Even standing in Piper’s Alley to get into UP on Wednesday night — among a crowd so large and gentrified a man in a Cubs hat mumbled, “This line is worse than the line at Shake Shack” — the conversation I overheard was about how sad “Mulaney” was, how disappointed his fans were, how much they felt they had seen every joke in the series already performed by Mulaney in his stand-up act. To casually listen, you might assume that Mulaney is fast becoming another reminder that comedy is littered with failed geniuses.
But here it gets interesting:
John Mulaney now lives a dual existence.
In the next breath, many of these people said how much they liked him anyway. Indeed, if there’s an upside to the downward slope of a doomed show, it’s that Mulaney has been reminded often in the past weeks of how much goodwill he has generated. The Washington Post review for the show was headlined: “When a bad sitcom happens to a great guy.” The Vulture website: “I hope the shortcomings of ‘Mulaney’ don’t ruin his chances of having a better, funnier show in the future.” The New York Observer: “I didn’t write a full review because I just feel so bad.” (And that’s their italics.)
Mulaney himself got into the act: Appearing last week alongside Jon Hamm on the Comedy Central trivia show “@midnight,” the comedian played dreadfully and got axed first, only to quip: “You are the first to get rid of Mulaney this fall — but probably not the last.” (He also tweeted later: “Ironically, @TVbytheNumbers 0.7/2 is the incline and speed I run at on a treadmill.”)
On stage, Mulaney built on this.
He was polite, self-deprecating, noting he grew up in Lincoln Park, had never been in a fight and you could pour hot soup in his lap and he wouldn’t protest. He said UP was once the bathroom area for “Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding” and thanked everyone for taking so many escalators to get there.
He played it local and loose, telling a story about meeting Bill Clinton at the Palmer House (his parents are Friends of Bill), mentioning that some of “The Fugitive” was shot there, recounting the entire plot (complete with Harrison Ford impression), then returning to Clinton.
The room was as warm as a homecoming. “Nice to meet you or know you from growing up,” he said to an audience dotted with childhood buddies, siblings and his parents — Chip and Ellen Mulaney sat in the center of the club, Chip with his arms folded and a tight smirk of pride, Ellen leaning slightly forward, happy.
Mulaney cut winks at them.
Just as evident as those good vibes, though, was this: Mulaney’s core audience is millennial, the kind of crowd that looks like a five-year high school reunion in a nice suburb. This is why Mulaney is not going away even if his show is.
He told jokes about badly designed web pages, noted the emergence of Logan Square, the unnecessary existence of five “Ice Age” and two “Rio” movies. He offered to a younger audience what an older generation of comedians — Jerry Seinfeld, Richard Lewis, even Louis C.K. — has long promised: an assuring, not especially challenging coziness, now with more current references. He didn’t mention his troubled show but he did talk about his French bulldog, and about being asked by people if he wanted his Jewish wife to convert to his own Catholicism: “And how do I get her to do that? I couldn’t get her to see ‘Lincoln.'”
The performance was electric, effortless, commanding — I can’t recall a more exciting hour of comedy in years. My only question was: If a brilliant stand-up never leaves the stage again, does he make a sound?
Twitter @borrelli
