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Home LATEST NEWS Mom Com by Amy Schumer | the new yorker

Mom Com by Amy Schumer | the new yorker

When Schumer realizes the situation, his face seems to deflate: triumphant joy is replaced by panicked recognition. Her sister Kim, who came up with the sketch, said, “That moment when Amy, who allowed herself to feel good for a second, realizes that East is who she is to the people. . . it’s crushing. I’m laughing now, thinking of her face.” Schumer’s character is horrified and humiliated, but finally agrees to the demands of the men in the room. “I think Amy is particularly adept at demonstrating how women are expected to take the punches,” Kim said. In Schumer’s comedy, his complicity in his own degradation is often the ultimate absurdity, the last laugh.

Dumpy the Frumpy Meerkat evokes the terror most women feel at some point that they are hopelessly hideous. He also summons the vitriol with which Schumer’s appearance on the Internet has been attacked. Her response has been at times defiant: “I say if I am beautiful,” she wrote in her book, “you will not determine my history,” and at times self-lacerating, in a way that is funnier but not necessarily less brutal than the last. . trolling online. In “The Leather Special,” Schumer talks about seeing a paparazzi photo of herself rowing: “I was like, ‘Oh my God, Alfred Hitchcock is alive and he loves water sports!’ She describes herself in the same routine as a “Tonya Harding Thanksgiving parade float.” Her current outfit includes a joke comparing her body to that of quarterback Ben Roethlisberger.

“Loving yourself physically, I said all of that when I was in my early twenties,” Schumer told me. “I got a little ahead of myself. It was easy to tell he was hot then, because. . . I what.” At forty-one, Schumer said, “I vacillate between feeling really beautiful and special and just feeling like a monster.”

Schumer has always considered herself a feminist. (In her senior thesis at Towson University, she wrote about the male gaze in “Madame Bovary.”) In recent years, she has become, like much of Hollywood, corporate America, and the Democratic Party, increasingly more frank about other topics of social interest. and racial justice. Amid her c-section jokes, she points out that black women in America are three times more likely than white women to die during pregnancy or childbirth. She frequently mentions her privileged position. “I get it, white women are the worst,” she recently said on LeBron James’ podcast “Uninterrupted.” “I hate myself. Trust me.” Depending on her point of view, this is either a welcome emphasis on the structural inequalities inherent in American life or an irritating form of virtual signaling of a member of the elite.

But even as critics blame Schumer for her over-enlightenment, another camp has condemned her for insensitivity. Schumer co-hosted this year’s Oscars, at which, of course, Will Smith slapped Chris Rock. (“Did I miss something?” he asked, when he reappeared on camera). Rock is one of Schumer’s closest friends and the director of his “Live at the Apollo” special; when she posted on Instagram that she was “provoked and traumatized” by the incident, she was derided as Karen. A few years earlier, the Internet erupted with objections when Schumer and the cast of “Snatched” (Goldie Hawn, Wanda Sykes and Joan Cusack) made a video imitating Beyoncé’s “Formation.” In 2015, Schumer was indicted in Washington. mail of perpetuating a “worldview that justifies a broken immigration system, mass incarceration, divestment from inner city communities, rationalizes inequality and reinforces persistent segregation and violence,” due to jokes like “Nothing it works one hundred percent of the time, except the Mexicans.” .”

Schumer was arguably making fun of an exploitative system, but it’s a joke she would never tell today. “It’s horrible,” she wrote in an email. “He’s totally racially insensitive and lazy.” Moments later, she added: “Like white people.”

“When did you start shaving your back?”

Zachary Kanin caricature

Schumer, who calls herself a “lightning tower for male rage,” has a way of affronting people with both sin and its opposite. She has been attacked for not being beautiful enough to be in entertainment and also for being too skinny to make fun of her own appearance. “I know,” she said. “ME Really anonymous people.”

At its sharpest, Schumer’s social commentary takes unexpected and bracing turns. A few days after the Uvalde massacre, I saw her do a set at the Fat Black Pussycat in Greenwich Village, where she usually performs when she’s not traveling. “You know what you never hear after a mass shooting?” she asked the fifty or so people who had gathered in the damp, airless space on a weekday afternoon. “What is a boy or a girl?”

“I think she walks the line between subversive and mass appeal in a way that a lot of people don’t,” said Schumer’s friend Bridget Everett, a comedic and cabaret performer who stars in the HBO series “Somebody Somewhere.” . “I’m friends with a lot of people who are inner-city artists who don’t really have mainstream appeal. She’s able to do her own thing and still play in stadiums.” On the one hand, the jokes about what women endure—in childbirth, at work, in bed—are fundamentally feminist. On the other hand, the humor of remark about the commitments of marriage is a mainstay of mainstream comedy, from “I Love Lucy” to “Everybody Loves Raymond.” For every weird joke Schumer tells (“Anyone else having trouble remembering what kind of cancer they died of?” your grandparents?”), there’s another one that could fit comfortably into any sitcom about domestic life: “We found out that the best day of the week to have sex is tomorrow.

Schumer’s audience is still huge, but the demographics have changed. “There was a wider net in the beginning when she was labeled as a sex comic,” said Kevin Kane, her producing partner for the past decade. Schumer established himself as a comedic road opening for Jim Norton and Dave Attell, whose audiences were typically young, drunk, and male. (Attell remains Schumer’s favorite standup. She named his son Gene Attell Fischer, but then realized weeks later that the name sounded dangerously close to “genital fissure.” Gene’s middle name is now David ). they are troublemakers,” Schumer said. “Attell, he is like my father. A lovable degenerate.”

When Schumer began headlining shows, her audience tended to be evenly split between men and women. “I was always surprised that guys were watching,” he told her. Her comedy was often fueled by outrage at the way men evaluated women’s bodies, but it’s hard to lampoon the objectification of attractive women on screen without showing attractive women on screen. (In Schumer’s “Milk Milk Lemonade” sketch, the women rap: “I’m going to make you scream and scream for the part of my body that poops out!” and the camera zooms in on the twerking asses: something for everyone) . Schumer has aged on stage, the body remains a major theme, but she now focuses more on the way she disintegrates with motherhood than the way men see it. These days, she told me, she is speaking directly to a female audience. “All I do, well not everything, I’m in a mayonnaise commercial, but everything else, is trying to make women feel better.” Or, as she put it during her performance at the Montreal comedy festival this July: “Chappelle fans are young and active. My fans don’t have their periods anymore.”

In Schumer’s most recent special, “Growing,” she tells a story about how her sister and her husband went to a workshop painting their own pottery while she lay in a hospital bed, receiving IV fluids after five hours of vomiting Kim returned with a brightly colored ceramic mermaid. Fischer brought a portrait of his wife that he had painted on a plate, which he proudly presented to her. It looked like a child’s representation of a blonde walrus. (“You know what the sad part is?” Schumer said later. “The more I look at it, the more I think, ‘That’s good.’”) The painting, he suggested, was a microcosm of marriage, both the bad news and the good: Your spouse gets to see you for who you really are.

Years ago, Schumer told Barbara Walters that she didn’t expect to get married and have children: “I would love those things, but I don’t really see it for myself.” As a touring comedian, Schumer traveled more than half the year, and it seemed impossible to imagine a husband who would tolerate her absence, much less a son who could put up with her. On his current set, Schumer advises the audience, “You have to find someone who can put up with you.”

The morning that Schumer left home to go on a trip, she was anxious and a little gloomy. “I always want to cancel everything,” she said, “and I always try.” Her first stop was Los Angeles, to film a role in her friend Jerry Seinfeld’s new movie. (She had tried to sneak away, but he had persuaded her to come.) After that, her standup tour was coming up. “That’s sixty shows!” Schumer said. “A grand tour is like forty.”

Fischer handed him a sticky shake. “What weighs me down is being far away,” he told her.

“We’ll go with you a lot,” Fischer promised.

“I know. But traveling at this age . . . routine is so good for them,” Schumer said, watching Gene run around the coffee table in a diaper. “I’m anticipating how horrible it will be to say goodbye to him, like Third time I’ve gone on tour. When you hear them cry and they reach for you, you just want to throw up.”

The night before, Gene had fallen asleep on top of her. As Schumer lay on the couch, watching the sunset with her son splayed across her chest, she grew concerned. “There’s a limited number of nights that they’ll want to do this,” she said. She had seen the kids on Seinfeld go from constantly snuggling up to her mom to becoming normal teenagers who don’t mind being touched. “My mom is always giving little touches on the sly,” Schumer said. “And I’m like, ‘Mom, go off. ‘” She looked grim. “I’m going to miss sixty-five nights of putting him to bed. I mean, what’s that worth? Am I crazy for doing this? But then it’s like, I get to go and make all this money.” It was going to be worth about ten million dollars, she said, to complete what she had called the “Prostitute Tour.”

When we met, I asked Schumer what he liked about stand-up. “If you have a bunch of ideas that you think are really funny, and you get to be in a room with people who want to hear what you’re saying. . . It’s like you have a story you can’t wait to get home to tell your husband,” she replied, with palpable pleasure. “When you have a big set, it’s like, ‘I’m going to get there, and I’ve got a lot to say to these people, and I’m going to make them laugh.’ She had described it as an irresistible compulsion to reveal herself with ever greater specificity and creativity.

I asked him if this tour was really just about money, a lot of money. As Gene sucked on his pacifier while he slept, Schumer looked at me like he had a mental illness: “You mean it’s for the love of comedy?” ♦


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