Displaying items by tag: stand up comedy

Sometimes the best way to find a comedian who’s new to you is by stumbling onto a clip that stops your scroll cold. That’s exactly how I first encountered Marcus Monroe: a burst of chaotic silliness on Instagram that made me immediately wonder what his full stand-up looked like beyond the quick-hit reels. As I have with both up-and-coming comedians, and even more established ones I haven’t really explored, I first discovered Monroe online by chance. Outside of a good handful of snippets - mostly from his Stand Up on the Subway series that I’ll get to shortly - I had very little to go on in terms of what his actual live stand-up would be like. In his case, I couldn’t stop watching the run of hilarious reels: quick, character-driven, highly silly bursts of comedy that immediately stood out for their timing and playful absurdity. Those clips ended up being a solid introduction to Monroe’s live show, which delivers a smart, engaging blend of his signature comedy. And yes - he’s genuinely funny.

I finally saw him live at The Comedy Bar in downtown Chicago, and it was the perfect venue to experience his style up close. The night was packed with laughs. Opener Brett Druck was outstanding, delivering sharp, tightly crafted jokes with a calm confidence that immediately locked the room in. His humor leans clever and observational, the kind of writing that sneaks up on you and lands with a clean, satisfying snap, perfectly setting the stage for headliner Marcus Monroe.

Monroe’s current tour highlights the style he’s become known for: sharp, in-your-face comedic banter paired with fast-paced variety performance. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and now residing in New York City, Monroe brings a Midwest-friendly looseness to his delivery, even as he leans into the nonconformist energy that has defined his career. He’s a past recipient of the Andy Kaufman Award, given annually to a performer whose originality and creative spirit echo Kaufman’s own. His résumé spans television appearances, cruise line entertainment, and major comedy festivals, and he’s been seen by millions, including performances on The Late Show with David Letterman and America’s Got Talent.

Onstage, he delivers a tight, energetic set that mixes storytelling, improvisation, and physical comedy in a way that feels both polished and spontaneous. His crowd work delivers some of his best moments - he’s genuinely comfortable interacting with the audience, slipping into quick riffs and playful exchanges that feel effortless and keep the room locked in. His material ranges widely, from the chaos of travel and performing on the road, to the odd realities of being somewhat of a “variety act” in a stand-up world, to the strange encounters that come with doing comedy in unconventional spaces. He also dives into his relationship with his wife, who’s fifteen years older and has been with him for over a decade. They never signed a prenup, but he’s unfazed - as he jokes, everything’s hers anyway. In fact, most of her belongings came from a divorce settlement with her ex-husband, so should they ever split, Monroe figures he’d walk away with half of Steve’s stuff. And toward the end of the show, he folds in his juggling - often with sharp knives - not as a gimmick, but as a comedic tool he uses for timing, misdirection, and playful escalation, giving his set a physical dimension most stand-ups don’t attempt. And this is the same guy who has juggled flaming torches while riding a sky-high unicycle, so the physicality isn’t just a flourish - it’s part of his comedic DNA.

A major part of Monroe’s growing national profile comes from his Stand Up on the Subway series, the viral project that helped expand his audience far beyond traditional comedy venues. For more than two years, he’s been performing fully costumed bits on New York City trains, transforming everyday commutes into pop-up comedy sets. The punchlines in these subway bits, while some downright goofy, are often purposefully so bad in a brilliant way - beyond dad-joke territory and deep into gleeful absurdity - that they loop back around into being hilarious. It’s part of what makes the series addictive, and I’ve become hooked on watching each new character drop into a train car with that “what’s he going to do next?” unpredictability. His Stand Up on the Subway series has now surpassed 100 million views and even features cameos from Bowling for Soup, Train, Bobby Moynihan, BBMak, Ryan Cabrera, and more, adding an extra layer of delightful unpredictability to the chaos. His roster of subway personas is part of the fun: Michael Jackson, Marty McFly, Ozzy Osbourne, the Grinch, Ronald McDonald, Freddie Mercury, a watermelon, a foot, Uncle Sam, an emo kid, and an endless supply of other characters pulled from whatever corner of his imagination he’s exploring that day. He’s even created a Chicago version on the EL train, suiting up as a Bears player for a local twist. The reactions - amused, confused, delighted, or occasionally baffled - become part of the show, and the series has become a defining piece of his creative identity.

Taken together, the tour, the reels, and the Stand Up on the Subway series reveal a performer who thrives on unpredictability, connection, and inventive silliness. Monroe isn’t trying to reinvent comedy so much as he’s carving out his own lane within it, one built on enthusiasm, oddball charm, and a willingness to commit fully to the bit. It’s a combination that works, and his stand-up is highly recommended. For upcoming tour dates, videos, and more of his character work, visit www.marcusmonroe.com.

Gary Gulman brings his new tour, 7th Hour: An All New Standup Show, to The Den Theatre, offering Chicago audiences a chance to see a comic who has spent decades refining the long-form, slow-burn style that has become unmistakably his. His five sold-out shows over the weekend are being recorded for an upcoming comedy special, giving each performance an added spark as he works through material with both confidence and care. Gulman’s comedy has always lived in the space between sharp observation and gentle self-reflection, and this latest set continues that progression with a mix of wry honesty and carefully shaped storytelling. His stop at The Den feels less like a routine tour date and more like a chance to watch a veteran performer stretch into new territory while still delivering the precision that has made him one of stand-up’s most quietly dependable voices.

The evening opened with Evanston’s own Sam Froum, whose set proved to be a sharp and genuinely funny warm-up for the night. He brought an easy confidence and a quick, clever rhythm to the stage, landing jokes with the kind of timing that immediately pulls a room in. It was a strong showing, and a fitting lead-in to Gulman’s tightly built headlining act.

Across 7th Hour, Gulman moves through a wide constellation of personal history, weaving together stories that span his depression, his admiration for his father’s unwavering integrity despite the loss of friends it may have cost him, and the realities of growing up with a single mother while navigating the rough edges of two bullying older brothers. His Jewish upbringing becomes a recurring thread, most notably in an extended, delightfully overthought retelling of the story of Moses - a bit that shifts from biblical epic to neurotic character study in a way only he can pull off. From there, he wonders aloud why Jewish people didn’t simply “like” Jesus so that Christianity might have evolved into an upbeat, colorful, pastel-tinted sect of Judaism, only to immediately challenge his own premise with the kind of self-correcting logic that fuels his best material. That exploration leads him into Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, where he zeroes in on “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” a phrase he deeply takes to heart, breaking it down with methodical curiosity as he imagines Jesus trying it out in front of smaller crowds at "open mounts" before delivering it on the big stage. Along the way, he has fun with the apostles - especially John and “Doubting” Thomas - treating them less as distant religious figures and more as characters he can analyze, tease, and reinterpret through his own gently overthinking lens. He even slips in a detour to Christian Bale’s Batman, acting out a hilarious gravel‑voiced exchange with Gary Oldman’s Commissioner Gordon that fits seamlessly into his stream of overthought observations.

He also devotes time to the values and education he drew from PBS, especially the steady presence of Mr. Rogers, whom he references with undeniable affection. Gulman lights up when recalling – and briefly singing – the closing song, “It’s Such a Good Feeling,” along with the simple but radical reassurance Mr. Rogers offered at the end of each episode: “I like you just the way you are.” He treats that sentiment with an earnest respect that shows how deeply it shaped him, even as he wonders aloud how anyone can truly live as their full, unfiltered self outside of a very small circle of people. He folds in humorous family stories tied to pledge drives, broadening the emotional palette of 7th Hour and grounding the comedy in the cultural touchstones that helped him make sense of the world long before he ever stepped onstage.

Gulman’s humor is a distinct blend of long-form storytelling, analytical overthinking, gentle self-examination, and slow-burn observational detail. He builds jokes the way essayists build arguments - layering premises, revisiting ideas, correcting himself mid thought, and letting the comedy emerge from the precision of his logic as much as from the punchline. His style is warm, meticulous, literary, and deeply human, often turning small moments from childhood, religion, or pop culture into sprawling, carefully engineered comedic set pieces.

And in 7th Hour, he brings that entire toolkit with him - sharper, fuller, and more emotionally grounded than ever. The show feels like Gulman operating at the height of his powers, shaping personal history into comedy with a confidence that suggests he knows he’s building material worthy of an upcoming special. What stands out most is how fully he leans into that mastery; 7th Hour plays like a comic working with total clarity of purpose and delivering exactly the kind of work only he can create.

Gulman’s career has been shaped by a steady run of smart, carefully built specials that highlight his gift for long-form comedy. From Boyish Man and In This Economy? to the critically praised It’s About Time and The Great Depresh, he has assembled a body of work defined by warmth, clarity, and an almost literary sense of structure. His stand-up has also been a reliable presence on late-night television, with memorable sets on Conan, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel Live, and The Tonight Show, each showcasing his ability to turn everyday frustrations and cultural quirks into slow-building, sharply observed stories. Together, these appearances have cemented him as one of the most consistent and quietly influential voices in contemporary stand-up.

If you get the chance to see Gulman live, take it. 7th Hour shows a comedian in full command of his craft, delivering work that is thoughtful, funny, and unmistakably his. It’s the kind of performance that reminds you why stand-up, at its best, feels both intimate and expansive at the same time.