Kathy Griffin’s comeback wins the evening at Carnegie Hall, despite Trumpian turbulence outside

Ascending to one nail-biting electionsFrom far and wide, a slew of people with steadfast political beliefs and questionable moral values ​​came to New York City. They made their pilgrimage with intention and arrived in the city to attend an event hosted by their favorite former reality TV star. This was their chance to show their support for someone who gained their loyal audience by ‘telling it like it is’, with all the consequences that entailed.

If you leave out identifying details, it’s almost scary how similar the Crimson Comedian is Kathy Griffin and political lightning rod Donald Trump are for each other. They both leveraged their fame for highly successful mid-teens reality shows; they both used television to become a zeitgeist for a new generation; and they were both investigated at the federal level. And yet Griffin and Trump couldn’t be more different, which is why it’s almost cosmically funny that these rivals had shows scheduled for the same weekend in late October, in the same city, twenty blocks apart.

Griffin’s ‘My Life on the PTSD List” comedy tour stopped at New York’s historic Carnegie Hall on October 26, less than 24 hours before Trump took the stage for his rally at the decidedly less posh Madison Square Garden. Although the two events did not overlap, Trump’s presence marked the streets outside Griffin’s location. The former president’s supporters parked their souped-up pickup trucks, covered in tacky decals and flags, outside Carnegie Hall and blasted Children’s rock music and holding Styrofoam busts poorly made up to look like Griffin. (The color red chosen for the wig was completely wrong.)

While Trump’s rally was a sickening melange of racist insults and terrifying promises, Griffin’s show was a spectacle of raw, natural force talent. Her audience was left doubled over with laughter for two hours as the comedian made her way through a laundry list of what she’s been through since Trump’s election in 2016, including Griffin’s Emmy-winning Bravo show.My D-list life,” the new stand-up tour deftly balances scandalous tales of Griffin’s celebrity encounters with thoughtful musings on life, death and progress in the public eye. At 63, Griffin’s humor has never been more refined; her timing is sharp, her anecdotes are fresh and her callbacks are brilliant. “My Life on the PTSD List” is a middle finger to everyone who thought Kathy Griffin should lie down and die, performed by a woman who clawed her way back from being consumed by the same thought.

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Griffin’s unwillingness to fade into obscurity certainly angered her dissenters, but the show’s ostentatious display of political extremism outside the show only excited Griffin’s fans, who wondered if the comedian would discuss the nonsense on stage. After all, the Styrofoam bust with the unusual wig was a riff on the infamous photo of Griffin with a head that looks like a bloodied Trump. The backlash was immediate and intense from the moment the photo appeared online in 2017. Despite a quick apology from Griffin – an unusual move for the famously unapologetic comedian – it was too late: the response cost Griffin everything she had. To make matters worse, the photo resulted in Griffin investigated by the Justice Department and the Secret Service, landing her on the no-fly list and suppressing any remaining prospects for live stand-up work.

That experience alone would be enough material for a show about post-traumatic stress disorder, but as Griffin tells it, the worst moment of her life was just the beginning. In 2021, she was diagnosed with lung cancer that would impair her ability to speak, and a battle with addiction to prescription pills was on her heels. At her lowest point, Griffin attempted suicide. “The worst part of trying to commit suicide is waking up and finding out you haven’t been successful,” Griffin told her Carnegie Hall audience, which responded with both shock and laughter. The act is Griffin’s darkest yet, but you’d never know it from the way the crowd reacts. She prefaced the show by warning us that it was going to be scary, but that she would keep it funny, and that was a promise that Griffin never went back on.

After a well-deserved standing ovation opened her act, Griffin got to work, pausing occasionally to enjoy the applause and cheers. She even gave some of the credit to her mother, Maggie Griffin, who stole so many scenes in “My Life on the D-List” that she became a star in her own right before passing away in 2020. Griffin mirrored the audience’s applause for Maggie, as she raises her hands toward heaven before bowing again toward hell. As the crowd noise doubled, Griffin comically crossed her fingers before continuing the act. Moments later, as if by her mother’s divine intervention, Griffin’s Valentino belt shot from her waist and landed with a thud on the stage. She was a consummate professional, turned it into a punch line and continued with the act.

Even though this tour is something of a victory lap, Griffin is not one to rest on her laurels. She made her name in stand-up by telling her audiences juicy insider stories about the celebrity elite, twisted into indisputable anecdotes that made her a prickly figure in Hollywood. In her old stand-up specials, it’s not unusual to hear Griffin hurl barbs like “slut” or “cokehead” at celebrities. But humor has changed in the Internet age, and even though she’s now effectively uncancelable, Griffin has softened her touch accordingly and acknowledged that she’s part of the tax bracket she’s making fun of. She tells stories about the trials that existence brought Kim Kardashian‘s neighbor, who expressed surprise that Kardashian would ever want to hang out with her after years of Griffin calling Kardashian “a dirty whore.”

Griffin confidently unravels the polarity between her all-encompassing personality and the sleek glamor of A-list celebrities to reveal that even the biggest stars are just as absurd as the rest of us. Her stories about meeting a nude Sharon Stone before dinner, Sia’s penchant for bursting into song, and Jane Fonda Making the world’s worst quesadilla is hysterical, but even the famous brushes remain grounded in Griffin’s perspective. She often tells stories born of heartbreak and trauma, highlighting that some of her funniest experiences with her fellow celebrities have come from Griffin enduring the brutal criticism she once leveled at them.

However, there’s no denying that the microscope Griffin found himself under was far more devastating. When she delves into the Trump photo – or, as she puts it, “a Halloween mask covered in ketchup” – and everything it has given her, her act reaches its most resonant level. Griffin knows how to make a meal out of her trauma, expertly injecting a lot of levity into the darkness. As Griffin started talking about her suicide attempt, all the air left the room. But she counted on the audience holding their breath and having a punchline ready to ease the tension.

“I thought, ‘Okay, I’m alone now, this is when I’m going to do it,’” she said. “Then, I’m not kidding, I started walking around my house looking for ideas.” Griffin marched around the stage, imitating the way she strolled around her house looking for ways to commit suicide. Unable to fold herself into a huge decorative vase and roll herself into her pool, she decided to guzzle down a hundred benzos. It’s tough, sure, but Griffin doesn’t downplay the macabre bleakness of suicide; she highlights how foolish and short-sighted our darkest impulses can be.

That’s a tricky line to walk, and it’s a balancing act that not every comedian can pull off. But after so many years in the business, Griffin understands how to maneuver her audience and hold them like putty in her hands. In an age where it seems like TikTok comedians are constantly competing to go viral by saying the most offensive things you can think of, Griffin reiterates that any comic worth their salt should keep the audience in on the joke . A good stand-up comedian must walk hand in hand with his audience, journey through the darkness to emerge together into the light.

A memorable set will challenge the viewer as much as it informs and delights, and Griffin’s “My Life on the PTSD List” deftly manages to do all three. At the end of her two-hour set, Griffin was still charged with energy, perhaps thanks to the vocal cord implant she received just nine weeks earlier that boosted her once diminished voice back to its former glory. Now that her distinct, unique comedic voice has been restored, Griffin is stronger than ever before. Towards the end of her act, she assured the crowd that she wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m just like this belt,” said Griffin, picking up her broken Valentino accessory and holding it out to the audience. ‘Broken, but still here.’