comedy

Tom Stoppard, dead?

Surely, someone has made a hash of the plot. Yes, he was 88, but the Czech-born, British playwright, the true 20th century heir to Oscar Wilde, would never have arranged things so banally.

“A severe blow to Logic” is how a character describes the death of a philosophy professor in Stoppard’s 1972 play “Jumpers.” But then, as this polymath wag continues, “The truth to us philosophers, Mr. Crouch, is always an interim judgment … Unlike mystery novels, life does not guarantee a denouement; and if it came, how would one know whether to believe it?”

Few people were more agnostically alive than Stoppard, who loved the finer things in life and handsomely earned them with his inexhaustible wit. A man of consummate urbanity who lived like a country squire, he was a sportsman (cricket was his game) and a connoisseur of ideas, which he treated with a cricketer’s agility and vigor.

Stoppard announced himself with “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead,” an absurdist lark that views “Hamlet” from the keyhole perspective of two courtiers jockeying for position in the new regime. The influence of Samuel Beckett was unmistakable in the combination of music hall zaniness and existential ruthlessness that characterized the succession of early plays that merged the Theatre of the Absurd with a souped-up version of Shavian farce.

Simple wasn’t Stoppard‘s style. The Fellini-esque profusion of “Jumpers” includes warring philosophy professors, a retired chanteuse and a chorus of acrobats, set within the frame of murder mystery that owes a debt to the gimlet-eyed social satire of Joe Orton. “Travesties,” Stoppard’s 1974 play, is built on the coincidence that James Joyce, Dadaist Tristan Tzara, and Vladimir Lenin all happened to be in Zurich during World War I — a cultural happenstance that paved the way for a dizzying alternative history, in which art faces off against politics. (Art, no surprise, wins.)

Wordplay, aphorisms and bon mots were Stoppard’s signature. Not since “The Importance of Being Earnest,” a play that Stoppard revered the way a mathematician would regard the world’s most elegant proof, has the English stage experienced such high-flying chat. Yet he acquired a reputation as a dandy, a clever humorist and an intellectual showman, distinctly apolitical and seemingly a man of no convictions.

The latter charge he no doubt would have taken as a compliment. He prided himself on having a mind unstained by certainties. But he was aware of the criticism of his work as intellectually brilliant but emotionally brittle. Virtuosity, in language and dramatic structure, was his great strength. But also perhaps his weakness — a weakness for which many lesser writers would no doubt sell their souls.

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern” and “Travesties were indeed master manipulations of plot and language. They were also breaths of fresh air that won Tony Awards for best play and established Stoppard as a transatlantic force. It would have been perfectly natural for him to continue in this vein, but his writing took a more personal turn in “The Real Thing,” a play about a playwright learning both to write about love and to take in and appreciate its complex reality.

New York Times theater critic Frank Rich called “The Real Thing” “not only Mr. Stoppard’s most moving play, but also the most bracing play that anyone has written about love and marriage in years.” The 1984 Broadway premiere, starring Jeremy Irons and Glenn Close under the direction of Mike Nichols, won Tony Awards for its leads, Nichols’ direction, Christine Baranski’s featured performance and best play. It was Stoppard’s third such honor, and it would not be his last.

But the criticism didn’t end there. (Is it any surprise that in “The Real Inspector Hound,” his 1968 one-act, Stoppard imagined a scenario in which a critic is killed by the play he’s reviewing?) Stoppard’s cleverness, while the source of his fame and prestige, was intimidating to some and off-putting to others. Not everyone goes to the theater to be wowed by verbal pyrotechnics or daredevil plot high jinks. The blinding brilliance of his plays left theatergoers still squinting to see whether his work had much of a heart.

Stoppard ranged freely over a variety of dramatic modes. (It was this ability that made him such a valuable screenwriter and script doctor, earning him not only wealth but also a shared Oscar for the screenplay “Shakespeare in Love.”) But he had no interest in writing character studies. Domestic drama, with its psychological epiphanies and sentimental resolutions, repelled him. But neither was he drawn to the issue-laden work of his more politically minded postwar British playwriting peers, that new breed of dramatist unleashed by John Osborne’s “Look Back in Anger.”

A born entertainer who had no ideology to sell or bourgeois morality to promote, he gravitated to theater as the most exhilarating form of debate. What he called “the felicitous expression of ideas” mattered more to him than academic point-scoring. Language was a theatrical resource that could do more than win arguments.

The comedy of ideas had become self-serious over time. Stoppard was determined to restore its fun without diminishing its substance.

His astonishing erudition encouraged him to tread where few playwrights before him had dared to go. But he was too much of a sensualist to cloister himself in the archives of the British Museum.

When I interviewed Stoppard at San Francisco’s American Conservatory Theater during rehearsals for his play “The Hard Problem,” he told me that he didn’t think he ever spent more than half an hour on research. He did concede, however, “I’ve spent many, many days of my life reading for pleasure in order to inform myself about something.

How else could he have pulled off “The Coast of Utopia,” a three-play creation centered on 19th century Russian intellectuals, romantics and revolutionaries against decades of geopolitical tumult? This marathon epic earned Stoppard his fourth Tony Award for best play.

“Arcadia,” perhaps his crowning achievement, may not be as sprawling but it’s just as intellectually ambitious. It’s also perhaps his most lyrically affecting.

A literary and biographical mystery play set in an English country estate in two different time zones (one in the age of Lord Byron, the other in the era of contemporary academic sleuths), “Arcadia” owes a debt to A.S. Byatt’s “Possession.” (In her mammoth biography “Tom Stoppard: A Life,” Hermione Lee reports that “Byatt has said that Stoppard told her he ‘pinched’ the plot from her.”) But the way Stoppard incorporates mathematical concepts as rarefied as fractal geometry to explore concepts of order and chaos as the characters hypothesize on the patterns of time is Stoppardian through and through.

Stoppard’s late works are his most personal. “Rock ’N’ Roll,” which he dedicated to Vaclav Havel, explores the rebellious, Dionysian force of popular music, an eternal source of inspiration for him, in a play set partly in Prague during the Communist era. “Leopoldstadt,” which won Stoppard his fifth and last Tony for best play, is the work in which the playwright grapples, from an artistic remove, with the history he was late to discover about what happened to his Jewish family during and after the rise of Hitler.

“The Invention of Love” is one of those Stoppard plays that leaves a critic feeling both rapturous and unsatisfied, a paradoxical state but then what can anyone expect from a play that makes the poet, classicist and closet homosexual A.E. Housman a theatrical protagonist?

No play by Stoppard can be fully appreciated in a single theatrical outing. The dramaturgy is too complex, the intelligence too quick-footed and the language too dazzling for instant assessment. My fear is that the plays are too expansive for the diminished scale of dramatic production today. But Stoppard has left theatrical riches that will entice audiences for generations through their intellectual exuberance, preternatural eloquence and omnivorous delight.

The first, or maybe the second thing to be said about “The Artist,” a six-part comedy written and directed by Aram Rappaport, is that it streams from the Network, a free ad-supported streaming service Rappaport created to release his previous series, “The Green Veil.” The first three episodes premiere Thursday; the concluding three are due at Christmastime.

The second, or maybe the first thing to say about it is that it comes pulling a tramload of heavy talent — including Mandy Patinkin, Janet McTeer, Danny Huston, Hank Azaria, Patty Lupone, Zachary Quinto — which begs for it to be taken seriously, though that might not be the best way to take it.

Set in 1906, peopled with ahistorical versions of historical figures, the series is set largely in and around the Rhode Island “country home” of Norman Henry (Patinkin), identified by a title card as “an eccentric robber baron,” and seemingly what we’d call a venture capitalist today. (And one seemingly in need of capital.) Norman begins the series dead, carried out rolled in a carpet and set on fire like a Viking, before we skip back in time, meeting his wife, Marian (McTeer), who narrates from her journal and advises “the reader” that it is only on the final page that “you might be well enough equipped to tell fact from fiction, hero from villain.” I’ve seen only the first three episodes, so I have no idea, apart from where the story misrepresents its real-life characters. But that’s just poetic license and, of course, perfectly acceptable.

The staff, for no evident reason, apart perhaps from the house lacking “a working kitchen,” lives in tents on the front lawn. They’re called inside by bells, attached to cords running out the windows, labeled the Maid, the Ballerina, the Boxer, the Doctor. The ballerina, Lilith (Ana Mulvoy Ten), is a sort of protege to Henry; she believes he’ll arrange for her to dance “Coppelia” back home in Paris, the fool. (Their scenes together are creepy.) Sometimes we see her naked (though tastefully arranged) in a metal tub. Her dance instructor, Marius (David Pittu), is waspish, bitter and insulting. The boxer is a sparring partner for Marian, who works out her aggression in the ring. She’s told us that she loathes her husband, and he her (though he professes his love in a backhanded way).

Danny Huston plays Edgar Degas, the artist in the series’ title.

(The Network)

And then there’s the eponymous artist (Huston), eventually identified as Edgar Degas, real-life French Impressionist, who was not, in fact, literally stumbling around Rhode Island in 1906, and certainly not accepting a commission to paint French poodles. (So much French!) You are free to make the connection between the show’s ballerina and those he famously painted, and her nude in the tub with his masterpiece pastels of bathing women. But apart from bad eyesight, a hint of antisemitism and Huston muttering in French, there’s no substantial resemblance to the genuine article. Here, he seems half out of his mind, or half sober. He is quite concerned with getting paid, and I don’t blame him.

The news of the day is that another person from history, Thomas Edison (Azaria) is coming to the house, looking for an investor for his new invention, a Kinetophone, a peep show with sound, like a turn-of-the-century take on a virtual reality headset. (There was such a thing; it was not a success.) This sets up a long flashback in which we learn that Marian and Edison knew each other in college, and that he betrayed her. Next up are Evelyn Nesbit (Ever Anderson) and her mother (Jill Hennessy), who have booked it out of New York after Evelyn’s unstable husband, Harry K. Thaw (Clark Gregg), shot architect Stanford White in the rooftop restaurant of White’s Madison Square Garden. That happened.

It’s a loud show, with much shouting and some brief violence, which, in its suddenness, verges on slapstick, and some less brief violence which is not funny at all. There is a superfluity of gratuitous profanity; F words and the less usual C word fly about like bats at twilight, clutter up sentences, along with many rude sexual and anatomical imprecations. Most everyone is pent up, ready to pop. At the beginning of the series, setting the table for what’s to come, Marian declares, “This is not a story in the conventional sense”; it’s “a cautionary tale,” but “not a tale of murder. This is a story of rebirth,” presumably hers. There’s a feminist current to the narrative: The men are patronizing and possessive, the women — taken advantage of in more than one sense — find ways to accommodate, manipulate or fight them, while holding on to themselves.

One can see why Rappaport might have had trouble landing this series elsewhere, or preferred to avoid notes from above. Aesthetically and textually, it’s the sort of absurdist comedy that used to turn up in the late 1960s and early ‘70s, something like the works of Robert Downey Sr. or William Klein, or maybe an ambitious film student’s senior thesis, given a big budget and access to talent; in its very lack, or perhaps avoidance, of subtlety it feels very old-fashioned. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it bad, or for that matter good, but it seems to me the perfect realization of the creator’s idea, and there is something in that. And there are those three concluding episodes, which will bring in Lupone and Quinto, their characters yet unknown, and may move the needle one way or the other. In any case, it’s not something you see every day.

There was a time when KevOnStage was a very literal description of comedian Kevin Fredericks as a hungry comedian looking for stage time. These days, he might as well be called KevOnEverything. You can find him cracking jokes on live comedy tours, TV sketch shows, books, podcasts and just about every social media platform you care about. From books like his 2025 New York Times bestseller “Successful Failure” to his latest podcast, “Not My Best Moment,” the idea has always been about forward momentum to breed a funny brand that, just like his name, continues to stick with a sense of humor that ultimately succeeds at being relatable.

Moving from Washington state to L.A. with his wife and kids to fulfill his comedy dreams, he focused his comedy on the Black church and family life in a way that hadn’t been done before. The result was his breakout success with the show “Churchy” that started as a self-funded series that was picked up by BET and recently ran through its second season. It created a lane for him to expand his content universe with sketch shows like “The Hospital” and “Safe Space” on Tubi that allows him to retain creative control and put on more comedians working with veteran stand-ups like Tahir Moore and Tony Baker. The latter is his podcasting partner in crime whom he’s been touring with on the Bald Brothers comedy tour which wraps up in L.A. at the Wiltern on Sunday. Recently we spoke to KevOnStage about the secret to building his comedy brand — by being everywhere.

This interview was edited for length and clarity.

I love that this is a year where so much is happening for you from so many angles.

It’s wild.

You’re KevOnStage, KevOnPodcasts, KevOnBooks, KevOnTV …

[Laughs] Literally KevOnEverything.

When did you decide to go from being Kevin Fredericks — working a regular job and doing comedy on the side — to becoming “KevOnStage”?

I was working at the Spanaway [Washington] branch of Key Bank and I was on Twitter. This must have been 2009 — very early on Twitter. And people were just making jokes and people were getting fired [from their jobs over their jokes on Twitter]. People would not like a joke you said, search your name, Google you, find out where you worked and email like your boss, and people were getting fired. And I was like, “I can’t afford to lose my job over some ports take.” So I’m gonna take my full actual government name out of my handle, which was just Kevin Fredericks at the time. And I was like, “I’m Kev and I be on stage.” And that was literally as much thought as I put into it. I was just not trying to be easily found and fired. So I switched my handle to KevOnStage because I was doing stand-up all the time at that time and it stuck. Hindsight being 20/20, I would have just kept Kevin Fredericks, which was my Facebook name, but I think KevOnStage is cool as a moniker. I’m trying to be like Beyoncé, Bono, Sting, Oprah, KevOnStage — one name. People think my actual name is Kevon because of that. If they think that, then I know they found me because of the internet. Which is also fine. As long as people know me, it doesn’t bother me.

KevOnStage with Tony Baker on the Bald Brothers comedy tour.

(Joshua Gonzales )

When did you really find your tribe of comedians in Washington state that you still hang out with today?

In Washington state there was only really like Nate Jackson, he was the only working comedian who was working nationally. In Washington it was me, Nate, Big Irish Jay, a comedian named Terrence — those are the only people that were kind of doing comedy consistently. And then we had the Bay Area Black Comedy Competition, I don’t remember what year it was, and I met Lance Woods, who I’m still cool with. But then when I moved [to L.A.], that’s when I met Tony Baker and Tahir Moore through All Def Comedy. Because I didn’t really do stand-up on stage that much when I first moved to L.A. My wife was like, “we’re not gonna move to L.A. and then you’re on stage four or five nights a week.” And it was hard to get on stage … you have to go and hang out, go to Denny’s and like hang out all night. And [my wife] was not going for it and I had small children who had to go to school. So the majority of the people that I know I met through All Def.

You brought up an interesting point about the lifestyle of comics because it is a lifestyle that doesn’t really agree with everything else for most of the 9-to-5 working world — especially being married and having kids. So how did you then decide to focus more on content creation as a means to perform?

Well, interestingly enough, it started before I moved to L.A. There’s hardly any entertainment opportunities in Washington. There’s very rarely a TV show, even shooting there, much less a show you can actually audition and be on. So what happened was we were doing plays. We’re trying to be like Tyler Perry, David E. Talbert or Je’Caryous Johnson. And we were on our way, but there weren’t enough people in Washington to mount a successful black play — or “urban plays” as people called them. So we did our best, but even if we got 3,000 people, that was only for one night. And we weren’t doing that, by the way. We’re getting like 68 people. So I was watching a lot of YouTube at the time and I was realizing these people have fans everywhere. So I was like, we can do internet comedy and make people laugh on the internet and hopefully we get fans all across the United States. And from the first two videos we did, I was like, forget the play thing, I think the internet is the thing. Just like focus on that. I think we do that, we will build our own audience, and everything will be easier for us.

As far as the ability to own your content and guide however you want, how has that been important for your comedy career?

For me it’s been like, “He who pays says.” Like if you pay for it, you get the final say. So for a long time, it was by default because nobody’s getting paid. I’m just making it and posting it. The first big thing we did that was like really expensive was “Churchy” [on BET]. And there was a lot of [money from previous brand deals] that I saved, a lot of [money from doing] Spectrum commercials that I saved. I made eight episodes of “Churchy.” And shout-out to Jamal Henderson, he helped us meet executives at BET and they bought it. And they couldn’t have any creative control because it was already done.

So that’s kind of a process that we’ve repeated with [my sketch shows] “The Hospital” and “Safe Space.” We pay for it and then license it or partner with a company and make it now. And with Tubi, they’re a little bit different. They let you have creative control, even if they pay for it. They’re like “hey, we trust that you built your audience, you know your audience.” They’re the only platform that I’ve worked with that’s completely like, “we don’t have any say-so, no notes, you don’t have to send us a script, you don’t have to send an edit for approval, we trust you.” And that’s fantastic for me because you get to make it as close to [the original vision] without any impurities as possible.

Now I gotta be honest, when I work with BET, we had amazing executives and they’ve given us a lot of great notes, but they also give you some notes that you don’t agree with that you have to take. And that’s also part of just making things. It’s not a full negative. They also made [the show] better in a lot of different ways. And the one thing that I’m very grateful for with our partners at BET is every note they gave was to make the overall project better and for more people to enjoy it. I am a comedian at heart, so sometimes I’m loyal to the joke to a fault. The executive is like, we gotta tell the best story — so it’s not all bad. A lot of times we hear people bemoan partnering with people, and it has its negatives, but also my TV exec was more experienced than I was at making good TV, so some of their notes were really helpful, and I can carry those with me when I’m making other projects.

“The Hospital” and “Safe Space” are both like sketch shows. What was important about the formats for both shows — one at a hospital, the other on a therapist’s couch — that allow you to find the funny?

Richard Washington, who is a creative exec at KevOn Stage Studios, head of T V and film, and I built the systems and then we allow the people to work within the systems to the best of their personality. So I think the great part about “Safe Space” is the talent. Like you give them a premise, you find the right people, and then they take it and make it funny. “Safe Space” was really the same with “The Hospital.” Like, you know, we hired more sketch writers for the hospital, but Safe Space was more improv than even “The Hospital.” We had some fully written sketches for “The Hospital,” but we didn’t stick to everything exactly. Some are almost all improv. Like comedian CP’s episodes, he’s just riffing. So it’s as close to a stand-up version of content as you can get. And what I mean by stand-up is the audience is sitting there not knowing what the person’s gonna say. And that’s why I think it works.

KevOnStage recording a podcast.

(Mike Folabi)

As a creator of these shows, you often hold the door open for new talent to shine. How does that help your own vision of allowing there to be space for new actors and comedians to come up?

I grew up playing sports and then I went into plays. And with both of those elements, it’s it’s a team environment. You need other people to be successful and you gotta rely on other people to do their thing. With plays, you wanna have the best show possible. And then you put it all together and it’s the best product. And I think that’s the same approach that I take to creation. A lot of comedians, I’ve been told, they won’t take the best comedians. They’ll take people who are OK, but nowhere near as good as them.

Considering you post three to five videos a day, how do you find the time to produce as much content as you do?

So the thing is like this is my job. And I work really hard. I think people compare themselves to me, but they also have a job. Like you’re thinking of “how does he do this?” because you’re thinking of your actual day job. For the most part, I get up and think of funny things to say all day. And the other thing is I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about what I’m gonna do or editing it at all. If something funny happens right now, if I walk out of here and I trip and fall, I’ll probably make a video immediately and within five minutes that video’s gonna be on seven different platforms. So I’m not really precious about what I make. And I feel like people think it’s hard, but this is not hard for me. It’s something I love to do, I create freely out of joy. The guy who runs my doughnut shop who hasn’t taken a day off in 20 years, literally I was talking to him about this. He never takes a day off. Twenty years he’s at that doughnut shop, every night at 8 p.m., he makes doughnut, preparing for the day. Every day at 4 a.m., he comes and bakes them. That is hard. Not to say what I’m making is not hard. It is, but it’s not hard like that. People have hard jobs. I just be silly for two minutes and post it within five minutes. That’s not really hard for me.

“For the most part, I get up and think of funny things to say all day,” says KevOnStage.

(Joshua Gonzales )

I guess you’re not getting cellphone calluses.

Not at all [laughs] … I kind of designed my content to be able to make it easily because I feel like my approach is just inundating you with Kev. Like I want to be unavoidable. Yeah. I want to make content on so many different topics. It’s not even always comedic. I want people to just share you and or have a thought or make you have a thought. Right now I’ve been doing a lot of podcasts. So if you don’t follow me, but you follow for example “The Pivot,” which I did last week and they collab with me, now you’re seeing me on “The Pivot” or Funny Marco or I interviewed Issa Rae for the first episode of [my new podcast] called “Not My Best Moment.” And Issa Rae doesn’t do a whole whole bunch of interviews if she’s not promoting something. So if you’re interested in what Issa has to say, you got to hear me because I asked the question. So people rip my stuff, I’m like, “this is great!” They rip it and post it on threads. This is like as close to getting bootlegged as possible.

That’s what you want.

Yeah, bootleg me! Obviously I’d love to make the money, but it’s like the exposure will become capital or currency later. I just want to be out here so much that you’re eventually like, “All right, what is he talking about?” Because think about how many videos do you see in a day now. Back in the day, we used to have to be like, OK, I want to watch the videos. I’m gonna go to my computer and go to like, I remember before YouTube, I used to go to Break.com and watch videos. It was a thing I did for some time and then I went on about my day. Think about how many videos you consume on a daily basis. … So you gotta really hit ‘em over and over before they make a decision. So that’s why I just wanna flood you. I want you to be like, “Oh, my God, enough!”

Well, add one more to the pile right here.

Yeah, absolutely. Once I saw cameras here [at the L.A. Times studio], I was like, “Yeah, baby, I thought this was just an interview, we got video content, baby. Let’s go!” So yeah, it’s like that’s my approach. Just keep going — a lot.

COMMUTERS in London were left stunned after they spotted a Brit comedy legend mid-rant on the Tube.

He was seen directing his emotion towards a to TikTok star as the pair travelled the Bakerloo Line on the London Underground.

One social media user uploaded their antics to social media with the caption: “Simulation on the morning commute today.”

It saw comedian Chabuddy G, real name Asim Chaudhry, brandish an Oyster card as a microphone whole sitting on the brown Tube line’s iconic printed seats.

He stunned passers by – and Subway Takes’ Kareem Rahma who was sitting alongside him – as he said: “It’s not all about length, it’s about girth,” before doing a hand gesture to represent his point.

Dressed in a khaki jacket in sunglasses he continued to seeingly reference someone’s manhood as he added: “Like that big.”

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The People Just Do Nothing star, who appeared to be filming a segment for the viral series, rounded off the clip and said: “Thank you very much.”

Meanwhile Kareem, who was holding his own Oyster card as his microphone, was in stitches following the chat.

He wore a grey jacket and brown corduroy trousers as he slouched back for the latest Subway Takes chat.

After the clip was uploaded to TikTok, user feuxlikefiya wrote: “Chabbudy g on subway takes before I’ve had my morning coffee.”

One user was quick to reply: “Subway Takes have gone downhill they’ve got Kareem on the Bakerloo Line.”

Another added: “Average Bakerloo Line experience,” as a third put: “Man said they came London.”

A fan then mused: “Not the Bakerloo Line.”

One then joked: “The fact you were acc on the tube fr.”

Kareem is co-founder of the internet talk show, with the star generally using a MetroCard with a microphone tagged on to chat to Americans on the Subway.

The show quizzed guests about their favourite hot take – yet one episode was filmed and promptly deleted, according to the host.

KAMALA’S CHAT

In July, we reported how Kareem had claimed a chat with Kamala Harris prior to the US election was so “weird” it had to be erased.

He revealed he sat down with Kamala in summer last year, just months before November’s election.

He told Forbes in an interview posted to TikTok: “Her take was really confusing and weird, not good, and so [we] mutually agreed we shouldn’t publish it.”

Kareem claims the Democratic Party reached out to him to say that Kamala and Tim Walz, her vice-president running partner, were “really interested” in being on the show.

The presenter said he got “lucky”, because he “didn’t want to be blamed for her losing”.

Doubling down, Kareem said Kamala’s take was “really, really bad, and it didn’t make any sense”.

Finally putting viewers out of their misery, he revealed that Kamala’s take was “bacon as a spice”.

Kareem is a Muslim, meaning he can’t eat pork-based products and has never eaten bacon – making it a particularly odd choice for Kamala to go with.

Kareem previously showed footage of the awkward encounter to the New York Times – which reported he was “taken aback” by Kamala’s statement.

Harris’s campaign reportedly apologised for the blunder and offered to re-film the episode, but Kareem declined.

Kareem previously said his main reason for not airing the interview was because he didn’t want to upset the Muslim community by spending air time on trivial matters when something as serious as the Israel-Hamas war was ongoing.

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He said: “It was so complicated because I’m Muslim and there’s something going on in the world that 100% of Muslims care about.

“And then they made it worse by talking about anchovies. Boring!”

Since her breakout into the mainstream last year for her scorched-Earth set on “The Roast of Tom Brady” and a top-notch comedy special “Someday You’ll Die,” Nikki Glaser has become an A-lister in the stand-up comedy world. But did that success translate for her first time as “Saturday Night Live” host?

Not too surprisingly, Glaser did well given that her best qualifications for the gig are that she’s very good at delivering jokes for a living and that she’s not shy about pushing the boundaries of taste in her comedy. That’s a good fit for the current incarnation of “SNL,” which tends to have at least one gross-out scatological sketch per episode and lots of “Weekend Update” segments and jokes that either land in the “just dirty enough” or “way over the line” camp.

Apart from her go-for-broke monologue, Glaser’s sensibility locked in on sketches including one about family members performing karaoke who seem way too intimate with each other, a commercial about grown men obsessed with life-sized American Girl dolls, and a bizarre musical number about a mechanical bull that rides away with Glaser and Sarah Sherman. These, along with a funny ad for a Jennifer Hudson spirit tunnel drug and one about characters in a children’s book, were pieces that aligned well with what Glaser does and that she performed exceptionally well.

A sketch about a stalled plane and a chatty pilot (James Austin Johnson) was good, but only because of Johnson’s perfect impression of flight intercom chatter.

Less successful were a half-baked mashup, “Beauty and Mr. Beast,” about the popular YouTuber, and a sorority sketch with Mikey Day as an interloping man wearing a bad facial disguise.

Glaser’s lengthy monologue may not have been as perfect a fit as it should have been, but her sketch performances were spot-on.

Musical guest Sombr performed “12 to 12” and “Back to Friends.” There was also a sweet and funny animated short, “Brad and His Dad,” about a divorced father trying to connect with his video game-obsessed 11-year-old.

In this week’s cold open, President Trump (James Austin Johnson) commented on the bizarre White House incident where a pharmaceutical representative (Jeremy Culhane) collapsed in the Oval Office while Trump was captured on camera looking away. As Trump put it in the sketch, “Someone dying in my office, I stand there and stare like a sociopath.” “Each week I try to create a visual,” he said, that represents what’s going on in the country like last week’s White House demolition. Trump walked over the fallen man to deliver a monologue on the week’s events, starting with the New York City mayoral election and concluding with SNAP benefit cuts and rising food prices. He offered that the cancellation of flights caused by the government shutdown will help by keeping families apart for Thanksgiving. “Killing two birds with one bird. Can’t afford food? Have some cheap Ozempic,” he said. Next up: stealing Christmas. “We’re doing Grinch!” Trump said.

Like a lot of “SNL” monologues from stand-up comics, Glaser’s was a microdose of her comedy act. As such, it was full of jokes about race, politics, sex acts and, for one uncomfortable stretch, the idea that someone (not Glaser, but maybe!) might suddenly realize they’re a pedophile. Glaser began by calling New York City “Epstein’s original island” before discussing white women being cultural appropriators by spray tanning, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. (“I’m no health expert, but neither is he”), dating a short man with anger issues and PSAs in public bathrooms about human trafficking. In her 20s, Glaser joked, the only fear she had was “good old-fashioned rape.” The barrage of jokes was exactly what you expect from Glaser, but some of the jokes didn’t seem to land as well on the “SNL” stage as they typically would on roasts or in her own comedy specials.

Best sketch of the night: When declining a Jennifer Hudson spirit tunnel invite is the only option

“The Jennifer Hudson Show’s” signature bit, in which guests dance through a hallway while staffers clap and cheer them on, has become such a big deal that celebrities like Glaser, playing herself in this commercial, have major anxiety about their dancing. Glaser, a self-described “uncoordinated white woman” claims her dance moves are so bad they’re potentially career-ending. “I even tried to put my ass into it. But I don’t have one,” she laments. But luckily there’s a drug, Hudsacillin, that makes you so violently ill that the celebrity in question has to cancel their appearance. “What’s the alternative?” the ad asks, “lightening up and being fun?”

Also good: Maybe this pilot shouldn’t be texting, even on the tarmac

With all the flight delays and cancellations happening, this topical sketch was about a couple (Sherman and Andrew Dismukes) sitting on an airport runway waiting for their flight to take off while their pilot (Johnson) announces delays and also shares updates about a woman he’s texting that he met on a dating app. What really sells the piece is Johnson’s delivery as the pilot, but also the funny interactions he has with the co-pilot (Kam Patterson), Glaser as the disaffected flight attendant and a set of passengers who argue nonverbally about whether or not to get involved (Kenan Thompson and Bowen Yang).

‘Weekend Update’ winner: A way to visit Staten Island without going to Staten Island

As the only guest segment on “Weekend Update” this week, Pete Davidson’s check-in on the Staten Island Ferry he purchased a few years ago with Colin Jost wins by default. Davidson referenced a New York Times article about trouble with their business venture, but said, “I cant spend $5 on a paywall when I have a kid on the way.” He promised to give parenting, “all the enthusiasm I never had for this show.” Davidson revealed that the new plan for the ferry is to convert it to a city on the water, New Staten Island, with all the things that make Staten Island great: pizza (it turns out it’s just one thing). Davidson couldn’t resist getting in a dig at his old boss after saying he’s not giving up on the ferry. “If Lorne Michaels has taught us anything, it’s never give up even if everyone says the time has come and Tina Fey is ready to take over.”

NBC’s new primetime comedy “Stumble” is a love letter to cheer. Or should that be “Cheer,” the hit Netflix docuseries that catapulted a sport with high-flying stunts, squad drama, bedazzled uniforms and lots of makeup, into the cultural zeitgeist?

For “Stumble” showrunners Liz and Jeff Astrof, it’s both. Like much of America, the siblings say they became obsessed with the champion cheerleaders of Navarro College and their no-nonsense coach Monica Aldama, whose exploits were captured in Greg Whiteley’s two-season series that premiered in 2020. The show broke the notion that cheerleading was simply made up of pony-tailed girls waving pompoms on the sidelines, showcasing the athleticism of the sport, its competitiveness and its diversity — the cheerleaders, male and female, came from varying social, economic and racial backgrounds.

Jeff watched the documentary at the insistence of his sister and was quickly hooked.

“I said, ‘You know what we should do? We should do a show where Monica goes down to the worst college in America. We’ll call it ‘Stumble,’” he recalls during a recent video call with Liz.

The idea tumbled in their heads for a time, but it took a while for it to lift off the ground. Both siblings were busy working on different TV projects — Liz on her Fox sitcom “Pivoting,” and Jeff on his Starz horror comedy “Shining Vale” — when the 2023 Hollywood strikes hit. But the timing allowed them to think about “Stumble” again.

“That’s when I really dug in,” Liz says.

“And we got to call Monica,” Jeff adds. “She’s our best friend. We even put that in the pitch, that she’s our best friend now.”

When I relay the sentiment to Aldama over a separate video call from New York, where the show is being filmed, she smiles and laughs. “Oh my goodness, they are the absolute best,” she says in her soft Texan twang.

The former Navarro coach serves as an executive producer on “Stumble” and also as its cheer consultant, bringing her decades of experience as one of America’s top collegiate cheer coaches. And while the show, premiering Friday and streaming next day on Peacock, takes some elements from the docuseries — it’s a mockumentary — it’s important to note that “Stumble” isn’t a one-to-one adaptation of “Cheer.”

The series follows Courteney Potter, played by Jenn Lyon (“Justified,” “Dead Boy Detectives”), a champion cheer coach at the fictional Sammy Davis Sr. Junior College, who is fired after a problematic video surfaces. Tammy Istiny, played by Kristin Chenoweth, takes over as interim coach — though she’s not as heartbroken about Courteney’s departure as she initially lets on. Courteney isn’t deterred, however, and she finds another coaching job at Headltston State Junior College in Oklahoma (the team mascot is a candy button, the town’s main industry), where she works to build a squad from the ground up. The character is very loosely based on Aldama, sporting the same flowy blouses, skinny jeans, heeled boots and all-business attitude.

Courteney Potter, center, played by Jenn Lyon, is very loosely based on Monica Aldama.

(Matt Miller / NBC)

“She is incredible,” said Aldama about Lyon. “I can tell she has put so much time into studying me [and] cheerleading coaches. She asks very thoughtful questions when it comes to how to deliver a line, or if the wording is correct. We never actually sat down and spent a long time with questions. And it’s fascinating to me because it’s body language, it’s delivery, it’s everything — she really did a great job.”

Meanwhile, the squad is composed of misfits, hotheads, third-year “seniors” and even a narcoleptic tumbler with a solid split. Some of the characters feel familiar — they’re an amalgamation of personalities from “Cheer.” Krystal (Anissa Borrego) might remind you of Gabi Butler, the cheer influencer, and Dimarcus (Jarrett Austin Brown) has a fiery spirit similar to La’Darius Marshall, whose combative relationship with Aldama came to a head in Season 2 of “Cheer.” But otherwise, the similarities are fleeting.

For Aldama, working on the series marks yet another shift in her life and career, much of it spent in Corsicana, Texas, where Navarro is located and where she still calls home. After serving as head cheer coach for nearly three decades, she retired in 2023.

“You know, it’s scary to have change,” she said. “What I have learned about being in the spotlight is that there are going to be a lot of things said about you. … I view things a lot differently now.”

Her retirement came after a series of events: First, Jerry Harris, one of the breakout stars of “Cheer,” was charged with sex crimes involving minors in 2020. Season 2 showed how the team grappled with his arrest; Harris pleaded guilty in 2022 and is currently serving a 12-year sentence. Then in early 2023, a civil lawsuit was filed by a former Navarro cheerleader, who accused Aldama of attempting to keep a sexual assault claim quiet. Aldama steadfastly denied the accusations, and her name was later dropped from the suit.

The Astrofs’ goal was to lean into the good things that “Cheer” showcased, emphasizing how much “Stumble” is a loose adaptation. “There’s darkness in everything, and we don’t go there,” said Jeff in reference to Harris. “For me and for Liz, the music is fun, the underdog nature of these kids and … seeing these actors do cheer and some of them … hadn’t even been in TV shows before. It’s like that excitement — it’s contagious. That’s what we’re looking at.”

Ultimately, the events of the past haven’t deterred Aldama from trying new pursuits. After all, her path was already curving toward Hollywood. After “Cheer” became a hit in 2020, she was cast in Season 29 of ABC’s “Dancing With the Stars,” giving her a taste of the limelight outside of her world. She also released a memoir in 2022. Now, she’s trying her hand at scripted television with “Stumble.”

“It’s obviously very different because I am learning a lot. I ask a lot of questions,” she said. “They [Liz and Jeff] asked me many times, ‘How deep do you want to go?’ I want to be in every meeting. I want to learn. I want to hear every conversation … but I do a lot more listening than anything at this moment.”

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1. Showrunners Jeff and Liz Astrof on the set of “Stumble.” (Matt Miller / NBC) 2. The cast on set with Monica Aldama, who is the show’s cheer consultant. (Danielle Mathias / NBC) 3. Aldama on set. (Matt Miller / NBC)

The Astrofs have been in the industry as writers and producers for more than two decades, each creating their own projects for television. Though they’ve worked together before — Liz on Jeff’s series “Trial & Error” and on Season 2 of “Shining Vale” — it’s the first time the pair have joined forces as showrunners.

Working on “Stumble” and coming up with a pilot together was easy for the siblings (Jeff: “We wrote the whole thing on Post-it notes”). It’s evident they are close, often completing each other’s sentences in the course of the interview. And they agreed that having Aldama was essential to making the series, particularly when it came to depicting the cheer routines and getting the nomenclature right.

“We needed to have authenticity to cheer, because we didn’t know anything about [the] cheer world,” Jeff said.

“We had to have Monica,” Liz said. “I really just wanted to meet her. I wanted her to be involved in every single thing, just so I could see her every day.”

Her expertise was important to them as was getting the world of cheerleading right. To help with that, Aldama enlisted Dahlston Delgado, who was featured on “Cheer,” to work as a choreographer on the show. Together they recruited extras with cheer experience via social media and through their many contacts in the cheer world. The cast did many of the routines, but stunt doubles were used in some instances, and real cheerleaders were used as part of the Buttons, Headltston’s squad.

Aldama and Delgado were given freedom to decide what routines would look like, while the Astrofs would focus on writing the dialogue for the show. “In a script, we’ll just write, ‘The team does an incredible cheer,’” Jeff says. “We’ll be in a production meeting, and Monica and Dahlston will be like, can you explain what you mean by ‘incredible cheer’?”

They ran with the limited guidance, however, putting together routines quickly, rehearsing in a couple of hours and taping them. “I think everybody not in our world just could not believe how quickly they learned a routine, with most of them not knowing each other and not ever working together,” Aldama said of the cheer squad. “They were just talented.”

“She’s magical,” Liz said.

“Monica is, even from the pilot, she’s so good at what she does, I would let her do toe surgery on me,” Jeff said.

Kristin Chenoweth as Tammy Istiny, left, and Monica Aldama as herself in the “Stumble” pilot.

(Matt Miller / NBC)

Aldama even makes a cameo in the first episode, comforting Chenoweth’s Tammy when the Sammy Davis squad learns Courteney has been let go. While she may be used to being in front of the camera nowadays, Aldama considers what more she’d like to do behind the scenes.

“I think everybody has their strengths,” she said. “And writing … I like where I’m at right now, where I can read the script and say, ‘Well, maybe this,’ and add a little bit to it. I would definitely be open to producing other shows in the future.”

For the showrunners, the compressed timeline between when the show was picked up by NBC in July to production to air meant that they had to make some compromises, including where the show was filmed. The pilot was shot in Georgia, but they wanted to shoot the series in L.A., where the writers’ room is based, but it eventually landed in New York because of the financial incentives and it’s where much of the cast is located. (The Astrofs wouldn’t mind if it ended up in L.A. at some point.)

Nonetheless, they’re optimistic about how the show will be received and having Aldama on board to add credibility from a cheer perspective was the ultimate goal for them because they love the sport.

“We just want to be funny with heart and, like, just people root for it,” Jeff said.

Just like a cheerleader would.

Jon Stewart’s biting satire may have made his new bosses squirm, but they went ahead and extended the comedian’s run on Comedy Central through December 2026.

The channel’s parent company, Paramount, announced Monday that Stewart will continue to host “The Daily Show” on Monday nights and serve as an executive producer through the end of next year.

Members of the show’s news team will continue to share Tuesday through Thursday hosting duties. Terms of the contract were not disclosed.

“Jon Stewart continues to elevate the genre he created. His return is an ongoing commitment to the incisive comedy and sharp commentary that define The Daily Show,” Ari Pearce, Comedy Central’s manager said in a prepared statement. “We’re proud to support Jon and the extraordinary news team.”

Stewart’s contract was re-upped nearly four months after Paramount-owned sister network CBS notified Stephen Colbert, who rose to fame on “The Daily Show,” that it was dumping his late night show at the end of the season. The cancelation was revealed days after Colbert lambasted a $16 million settlement Paramount agreed to pay President Trump to end a lawsuit over edits to “60 Minutes.” Colbert called the arrangement “a big fat bribe.”

Paramount settled the Trump suit to win approval from the Trump administration of its sale to David Ellison’s Skydance Media and RedBird Capital Partners. CBS has said the reason for Colbert’s cancellation was financial, not political, although many people have expressed doubts.

Ellison took ownership of Paramount in August. Stewart has joked that he, too, might be tossed as the company tries to reposition itself to the political center.

Last week, the company began a deep round of layoffs, cutting 1,000 employees with plans to terminate another 1,000 in the coming weeks, in an effort to trim its workforce by 10%.

After a nine-year absence, Stewart returned as a host in February 2024. He had helmed the show for 16 years before taking a break in 2015. His current contract was expiring.

The show was hosted by Trevor Noah until 2022, when he stepped down. That prompted a rotation of guest hosts, including Kal Penn, Charlamagne tha God, Sarah Silverman and Michelle Wolf.

Last month, during a conversation with the New Yorker at a cultural festival, Stewart was asked whether he might stick around longer. “We’re working on staying,” Stewart told the New Yorker’s David Remnick.

The rotation of “The Daily Show” hosts also will include Ronny Chieng, Josh Johnson, Jordan Klepper, Michael Kosta, and Desi Lydic with Troy Iwata and Grace Kuhlenschmidt.