“I’m a glass half-full motherfucker,” says Bert Kreischer.
I can practically hear him smiling through the phone as he discusses his upcoming Netflix special, “Lucky,” an aptly titled hour that sees the notorious party animal turned family man counting his blessings.
Just moments after articulating his reverence and appreciation for his fan base, the comedian, on a walk in Los Angeles, interrupts the interview to take a selfie with a stranger. (“Thank you so much, brother,” Kreischer tells the fan, whose quavering “This is craaazy!” can be heard through the phone line.)
The special, Kreischer’s fourth for Netflix, debuts March 18. It features stories about his wife and daughters that are sometimes heartwarming, sometimes vulgar and often both at the same time.
But Kreischer is grateful for more than just his family. “I feel very lucky to be alive and working at this point,” he tells Variety when asked about the state of the industry. “TV and movies are about to explode in Hollywood, in a really fun and crazy way.”
Optimism about showbiz is rare these days, but Kreischer believes comics are entering an era of financial independence and creative freedom. He spends nearly five minutes shouting out his comedy chums — like Tom Segura and Shane Gillis — and promoting their projects, which he says are gloriously devoid of studio fingerprints.
“It is the gold rush right now,” Kreischer says of comedy. “I look at Hollywood and see massive opportunities coming around the corner for all of us.”
In an exclusive, wide-ranging Q&A, Kreischer dishes on political comedy, why he never does corporate gigs and the one note his wife gave him about making sex jokes.
One thing I immediately noticed when watching your special is there are shirtless men in the audience.
It started happening when I was doing clubs. Dudes would rip their shirts off and watch the whole show shirtless. When I did Red Rocks for the third time, we had a “top off” camera that was shooting men the way they would women ripping their shirts off, or a kiss cam. We did that for the whole arena tour — we just go to big dudes who then rip their shirts off. Not one camera ever hit a woman.
You’ve created a monster.
I idolized Jimmy Buffett. We’d go to his shows, and there’s something really cool about getting lost in a group of fans, seeing them dress up like crazy. I never thought the thing I’d have was going to be that big, obviously, but it’s kind of cool that I get a bunch of overweight dudes with body positivity ripping their shirts off. These are guys who wear a shirt to go swimming, you know?
I feel like you pull something out of these guys — many of whom are married and bring their wives to your shows — that otherwise doesn’t really see the light of day.
I wish I knew my brand better. It’s hard to see from the inside of the forest. I think I give them the permission to party. That’s a good name for a tour — “Permission to Party.” That’s a really good name for a fucking tour. I think I just named my next tour. I’ve always been the guy who, at a kid’s birthday party, the dads will come to me and be like, “If you open a beer, we can all have a beer.” I’m also unapologetically in love with my wife. Not cheating on your wife is cool as shit. These dudes [my fans] are guys who feel lucky to have the chick they’re with, lucky to have the life they have, lucky to have the kids they have. And that one night is the night to cut loose.
I was walking in Savannah, Ga., one time before playing the Enmarket Arena, and I saw my fans partying before the show down by the river. I was jealous! I was like, “Dude, I want to be with them.” And I think they know it. I love getting into shit and being a fan of something. I love discovering something and then becoming obsessed with it and buying tickets for me and 10 friends like, “Hey, have you guys heard of the Red Clay Strays? They’re coming in town, and they’re about to be your new favorite band.” I bring all the comics — [Shane] Gillis, Mark Normand, Big Jay Oakerson — my wife, my whole team, six of my friends. I get us tickets. We saw Jimmy Buffet, we saw Goose, we saw Wilco. So, I’m lucky to have fans that are like me.
I noticed you picked a Red Clay Strays song to close the special.
It’s the intro song, too. I’m good friends with those guys. I found them early on, before they really popped, and they came over to the house and we partied, and they played some music. I got a big group to go see them at the Troubadour. Those boys are really awesome kids. I fell in love with that band.
There’s a cliché that actors want to be rock stars and rock stars want to be actors. Do you feel that way when you watch live music?
Oh yeah, I would love to be able to just have a set list that I know is going to murder, instead of going up at the [Comedy] Store trying to figure it out. You can play your hits for fucking years. Look at Creed — they’re doing stadiums now. I think all comedians wish they were rock stars. We all wish we were taken seriously and sexy. We’re goofballs. Ironically, the sexiest thing about us is that we’re not sexy at all.
At the beginning of the special, you rip your shirt off and throw it in the air, and it lands perfectly on the mic stand. How many times on tour did that work versus not work?
It never worked. That’s why you can see the look on my face is sheer exuberance. We had that ridiculous outfit made because I noticed that in all my specials I’m wearing the exact same thing — jeans and no shirt — so they all look identical. Netflix would brand my specials with different outfits on the thumbnail to draw people in, but then I’d just be in jeans. So, I wanted to have a Versace, Miami-style suit made.
How much did that influence your decision on what taping to use?
That taping was special. If I’m not mistaken, we used the entire set, front to back, from that taping. With comedy, you can get a little bit of magic — that’s why crowd work is so fun. When my shirt landed on the mic, everyone went crazy. We had one taping where someone had a stroke, so we’re not going to use that one…
Todd Rosenberg Photography
For a stand-up comedian, joking about your family is basically in the job description. When you’re writing material about your wife and kids, do you run it by them? Are there places you can’t go? I’m thinking specifically about the sexual jokes involving your wife, LeeAnn.
I write everything in the hopes that my daughters and my wife like it. LeeAnn saw the act a couple of times and definitely had notes. In doing that material, there was a certain point in my act where it became less jovial. It wasn’t coming across the right way, and she had a note about that. She was like, “All I need is a little bit of a rascal smile on your face. You’re doing it so much you’re losing that. Remember the way you did it the first time.”
How do you write material, in a literal sense? Do you have a note on your phone where you write down observations?
I’m an old-school pen to paper guy. I love being on a plane, getting a cocktail and writing during takeoff. I have a certain kind of book I use and a certain kind of pen I use — the Gelly Roll 08 is my favorite pen. Back in the day, I’d carry the book on me all the time. Now, I just have my phone. I have a note section that says “New Material,” and it’s probably 20 pages long. It’s everything I find funny. Like, I talked to a guy the other day who said he and his wife went to Paris, and I asked what they did. He goes, “Disneyland in Paris was so awesome,” and I was like, “What the fuck? Who goes to Disneyland in Paris?” So, I write that down. Then, when I’m building an hour, I might pepper [those observations] into a story to make it a little richer. I collect them. It’s almost like a spice rack.
On the spectrum of clean to dirty comedy, you’re definitely closer to the dirty end. Do you ever do corporate gigs?
Never. You can’t get me to do one. I have no interest in that. I don’t like being told what to do. I have what my wife would acknowledge as bad behaviors, and I’m not a good employee. I’m not good with a bunch of millionaires telling me what to do.
Jim Gaffigan has said that rich people are the worst audience. That they never laugh.
I did a corporate gig in Aspen. This is when I really needed the money. I got paid $25,000, which is still a lot of money, but back then it was “take care of us for a couple months” money. It was for a hedge fund, and I got up there and they’re like, “What kind of watch are you wearing?” I tried doing some material on my watch, and this one guy in the front row goes, “Dude, just tell ‘The Machine,’ and let’s go fucking party.” So I did 12 minutes. I told “The Machine” and we went to a bar and got fucking wasted. Having said that, I did [do a gig] for a company called Palantir, back when they were just a start-up. They gave me $5,000, and I just came in and roasted them for an hour.
You should ask for equity when you do these corporate gigs.
I almost guarantee you they offered me equity, and I had no idea what Palantir was. The two dudes — Peter Thiel and Trey … Whatchamacallit — we smoked cigars, drank whiskey and talked about securities or some shit.
What about international gigs? I’ve talked to some comedians who have played gigs in countries that are sensitive about certain material.
There’s one gig that I’m toying with in Abu Dhabi, but the rule is that you can’t take your shirt off. I don’t trust myself. I think every comic has this weird anti-authority behavior. If you tell me not to, I’m gonna. Or I’m going to get so close to it that the hall monitor is going to get a little upset. But every other international gig … Dublin is probably the best show I’ve ever had. It’s so funny how small the world has gotten. Netflix has changed the game with comedy, because people come out to your show in Dublin and they look like a dude from Omaha. They just sound different. Greece was a little weird.
Why?
I was getting ready for my “Razzle Dazzle” special, and I had this joke that just wasn’t working, about getting my ass hairs tied in a knot. I did it in Greece, and it was like I was reading the fucking Bible. They were losing their minds. It made the joke better, because they really experienced it.
Do you ever still bomb? Or is that experience basically obsolete for you?
I don’t have to bomb if I don’t want to. Sometimes it’s good, not to bomb, per se, but to not lean on those little tricks that ensure us to do well. Chris Rock is a perfect example. When Chris Rock works out new material, he doesn’t do any of the preaching on stage, the walking back and forth, the “Let me tell you something!” None of that. He’s really dry, he almost reads it off a book to find out if the material really works. I’ll do a version of that. There are jokes that don’t work, there are stories that don’t work that I commit to and tell the whole thing anyway, just to see if there’s anything in it.
Do you ever go to alt comedy rooms and find that it’s more of a challenge for you?
Yes, of course. I haven’t done it in a while. I always think I would have done better in those alt rooms because I am a storyteller, and that’s a more alternative approach to comedy. It feels easier to swallow at the Largo or UCB or Typewriter Dynasty. Whereas, at the Comedy Store, you have guys doing crowd work and set-up punchline, and when you tell a story sometimes it confuses the audience. I always wondered how I’d perform at those places, but I don’t do it enough, to be honest.
In the special, you manage to slip a political comment — about women’s reproductive rights — into a joke that also has the phrase “stinky pussy challenge,” which I thought was impressive. Is political comedy a death knell for comedians like you, who have such a broad audience? Or is that something you enjoy dipping your toes in?
I don’t have a problem telling you who I am. I don’t want to alienate you, if you come to my show, and preach politics. I also don’t mind telling you I have two little girls and a wife, and that I stand for women’s rights. I think that’s undeniable. I don’t mind telling you that I own a couple guns. I’m not going to preach my views on the NRA on stage, I’ll just tell you a story about having a gun. Or I’ll tell you my daughter thinks I’m a misogynist and make a joke about that, or tell an abortion joke. There should be a joke. If you go up and start preaching politics, sometimes you lose me. It’s sexier when I don’t know your politics. I like when a comedian’s politics are assumed. So, I try to stay away [from political comedy], but I’m not afraid of it.
I heard that you send a custom Bert Kreischer calendar to people around Hollywood. Is that true?
I do.
What’s in there?
It’s all my sexy pictures. I’ll get you one if you want.
I’m intrigued. What is the vibe around Hollywood these days, in terms of pitching projects?
It is the gold rush right now. Hollywood is re-envisioning the way they make TV and movies. You look at a place like Netflix that invests maybe $250,000 on a special for the majority of comics and sees a wild return on that money. Hollywood is now going, “Let’s step it up a bit. What if we allow them the freedom to say whatever they want?” And, “Maybe we make a movie that one day was $35 million, and let’s see if we can do it for $7 million.” I feel very lucky to be alive and working at this point. TV and movies are about to explode in Hollywood, in a really fun and crazy way. It’s going to be a lot of streamers — I don’t think we’re going to be going to the box office. But if you look at [Shane Gillis’ Netflix show] “Tires,” that was made on a minimum, and it’s a great fucking show. Shane Gillis, without a doubt, is probably the most talented comedic actor of our generation. I think people are looking at him and going, “If Shane’s there, then what about Theo Von? What about Nate Bargatze? What about Dan Soder?” It’s going to be really cool to see Ralph Barbosa’s first movie, or René Vaca’s first TV show, whatever they decide to do.
They’re going to give comics a lot more freedom. Us comics, we don’t need a ton of money. We can make money on the road. We just want to make things for our fans. Look what happened to radio and podcasting — Joe Rogan runs media, in my opinion. He affected an election, and that was based on an $800 investment, buying a Zoom recorder and two mics. It changed the media landscape, and I think that’s about to happen with movies and TV.
So you don’t think this new generation of comedic actors will be seen on the big screen. It’s all streaming now.
Listen, I don’t think you’re going to be able to get a ton of people into movie theaters. You’ll need tentpole events. To get people in the movie theaters, you’re going to have to get Will Ferrell, Danny McBride, Shaquille O’Neal and Shane Gillis. I’m someone who had a movie at the box office, and even I will wait until it comes to streamers. I have a screening room in my house — I wanna use my shit!
Netflix is such a great place to release stuff because they’re so hands off. Tom Segura has a project coming out, I think in April, that, if I’m not mistaken, was untouched by Netflix. It’s going to be wild as shit. “Tires” has Shane and [John] McKeever’s fingerprints all over it. It doesn’t look like network notes, it looks like a bunch of boys trying to make their buddies laugh. I think that’s the direction that comedy is going in.
You think we’re in a comedic renaissance?
Oh yes. Stand-up comedy right now is where it was when Steve Martin, Richard Pryor, Sam Kinison, Andrew Dice Clay were making specials, right before they took over the box office. Look at all the great specials that have come out recently. Hollywood producers are getting younger and younger every day, and they’re enjoying these comedic voices. They’re going to be like, “How do I get you to do your thing for me?”
Now that every comedian hosts a podcast, do you think you guys have more leverage over the studios because you have your own distribution channel?
It’s financial freedom. I make more on my podcast than what CBS could offer me to do a show as a series regular. It gives me the freedom to go, “I don’t like that project.” Back in the day, you’d have to spend 12 weeks on a movie to shoot maybe four scenes, and they’d give you $70,000. Podcasts have given comics the financial freedom to decide what projects they want to do, and touring is the same thing. Look at Stavvy [Stavros Halkias], he’s the perfect example. His podcast is awesome. He’s been making money on Patreon for 10 years, and no one knew who he was. Now he’s like, “I want to make a movie, and I’ll just pay for it.” Look at Theo Von and David Spade. They shopped a movie around and no one wanted it, so they’re like, “We’ll just pay for it.” They produced their own movie. That’s podcast money.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
