Joe Pera Will Cure What Ails You

​Over the past couple months there have been lots and lots of articles on Fred Rogers floating around. As the country's kindly, elder neighbor for more than a generation, Rogers spread a message of unreserved kindness and acceptance while also redefining an entire genre of television. I sort of hope that Joe Pera — the weighted-blanket-in-human-form, under-30 grandpa of stand-up — can leave even a shred of a similar legacy in comedy.

The first time I saw Pera perform was on The Chris Gethard Show in its public access days. Pera played a character named "Zero Fucks Boyd," who, apart from the prodigious use of the swear in his name and hilariously un-badass denim vest, is exactly the Pera you'll see in every other setting. He speaks with the slow cadence of an intensely engaged mall-walker who always reminds you that you never stop learning. Even as he flips the bird at Gethard and company, he demurs and turns his face away from the camera with a tiny smirk; as panelist Murf Meyer notes, "the shirt says 'I'm so fucked' but the face says 'just a nice boy.'"

If this is your first time seeing Pera's comedy, you might be wondering if the voice is a put-on. This video of college-age Joe hosting a "Quasi-Late Night Show" may or may not clear that up for you, but as always, the question of whether a great performer is committing to a character bit is far less interesting than the content of their act. Pera's work consistently walks a thin line that few other "nice" comedians can nail: he seems sincere without being cloying, veers into the absurd without reliance on the profane, and his delivery flips our conception of the awkward and the relaxed. As if by sleight of hand, Pera makes being the quiet, introspective guy seem like the most obvious, natural form of comedy ever.

This quality comes out best in "Joe Pera Talks With You," Pera's Adult Swim show, which he filmed in the midwest and made with a raft of his allies in New York comedy.¹ Prior to this, Pera produced a few specials for the network that leaned into the hypnotic, relaxing aspect of his soft-spoken mannerisms, but the full series lets Pera play a version of himself in a world that largely exists on his wavelength. Instead of tossing out the idea of Pera as a small town choir teacher, as his almost-ASMR animated special did, "Joe Pera Talks With You" lets you see Pera interact with his schoolkids, other teachers, friends and neighbors, turning Marquette, Wisconsin into Pera's own version of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.

I'd rather not spoil it too much, but episode six of the show (available right here) is both the funniest thing I've seen all year and a strikingly unironic portrayal of joy on television.² Not every episode of "Joe Pera Talks With You" is happy through-and-through, but it never veers into outright darkness as a way to make its point. You could never imagine someone pulling the "you have to have a very high IQ" line with Pera's show because it rarely touches on despair and could never be misconstrued as glorifying it. As Jo Firestone's music teacher/doomsday prepper character Sarah shows, grave concerns do exist in Pera's world, but their small town of Marquette feels like a safe space to grapple with all aspects of life.

When people talk about watching TV as a form of self-care, it's hard to think of how a show could function to that end beyond its entertainment value. Personally, though, I can't shake the feeling that there's something restorative about "Joe Pera Talks With You." Beyond the depoliticized trappings of small-town America, past the swaying trees and serene landscapes (the show is beautifully shot) and underneath the disarming non sequiturs, there's just something special to Joe's comedy that'll make you feel good. It's hard for me to articulate, and personally I wonder whether it's worth bothering to try. Analogies to warm sweaters or hot cocoa on a rainy day will only get you halfway there. I'd say he's like if Paddington Bear were a person, but Paddington's more like if Joe Pera was a talking bear with an English accent.

Perhaps a more personal story can put it in perspective: In late 2016 I attended an art and music show that Pera emceed, there to promote his Christmas special "Joe Pera Helps You Find The Perfect Christmas Tree". Spread across several rooms in a large warehouse complex, the atmosphere was a little chaotic and overwhelming. Before headliners Parquet Courts took the stage, Pera shuffled out onto the stage one last time to introduce the band and to plug his special one last time by giving away a Christmas tree. Wild, jubilant mosh pits are a near-guarantee at a Parquet Courts show, so when Pera gently hefted the tree at the audience before the band started to play, I worried for the worst.

What followed was, frankly, sort of amazing. Instead of the very-real Christmas tree disappearing into the mosh pit or showering the crowd with itchy pine needles, everyone crowd-surfed the tree back and forth for the first few songs of the band's set. It must have traversed the entire warehouse floor four or five times, borne gently on our outstretched hands. I feel like if anyone else had tossed that tree out into the audience, it couldn't have gone half as well.

Maybe that's it — watching Joe Pera's comedy will make you feel like you're the Christmas tree that's getting crowd-surfed at a punk show. Give it a spin and let me know if you come up with something better, I guess.