Natalie Palamides isn’t one to blend in. You might recognize her as the iconic eye-rolling Mara from Progressive commercials, or perhaps from her vocal work as Buttercup in “The Powerpuff Girls” reboot or young Esther in Netflix’s “Haunted Hotel.”
Her distinctive style comes from a vocal delivery reminiscent of Aubrey Plaza’s dry wit and Natasha Lyonne’s husky voice, effortlessly shifting between genuine excitement, childlike wonder, and profound indifference. Her exceptional acting range and quick adaptability are vital for her animation roles. Matt Roller, creator of “Haunted Hotel,” once lauded her as “a Rolodex of emotions.”
Despite her success, Palamides remains humble. “I feel incredibly fortunate to earn a living by making strange voices, something I’ve enjoyed since childhood,” she shared in a recent interview.
But don’t be fooled by the preceding, as Palamides’ true brilliance shines on stage. Her live performances are a masterclass in clowning – uproariously funny, subtly rebellious, utterly bewildering, and deeply moving. These productions are a meticulous blend of precise planning and joyful chaos, with Palamides fearlessly diving into the most outré moments.
At 35, the Los Angeles-based writer and performer has achieved her most significant New York milestone yet: the debut of her 2024 production, “Weer,” marks the first extended engagement at the newly renovated Cherry Lane Theater. This Off-Broadway institution, now under the ownership of A24—the innovative studio behind hits like “Everything Everywhere All at Once” and “Hereditary”—saw Palamides’ show sell out even before previews began, a testament to her skyrocketing reputation. Its run is scheduled through November 9.
A unique tribute to romantic comedies, a genre Palamides adores, “Weer” plunges audiences into a New Year’s Eve 1999 argument between Mark and Christina. The narrative then gracefully rewinds three years, unveiling the charming origins of their relationship.
Palamides elevates the theatrical experience by portraying both characters simultaneously. Her costume and makeup are meticulously divided down the center, from head to toe, echoing the iconic villain Two-Face. One half of her embodies the mustachioed Mark, clad in cargo pants and a flannel shirt, while the other transforms into Christina, sporting a pink top, low-slung jeans, and voluminous 90s-style hair.
As one might expect, the show includes an unforgettable scene of intimacy.
While it sounds audacious—and it certainly is—“Weer” builds upon the distinctive style, tone, and themes of Palamides’ earlier work, “Nate: A One Man Show.” The latter was famously captured for a Netflix special in 2020, with critic Jason Zinoman praising its live version as “a startlingly unusual creation.”
In “Nate,” Palamides transforms into the titular character, a mustachioed “bro” in a flannel shirt-jacket, whose chest hair is proudly displayed. The performance boldly tackles themes of masculinity and consent. Nate often engages audience members, hovering his hands near intimate areas and asking, “May I?” The show’s central tension revolves around a challenging interaction with his art teacher, Miss Jackson (a mannequin brought to life by Palamides as a puppet), culminating in a profoundly unsettling conclusion.
Palamides articulated her artistic vision: “I adore creating moments where the audience is roaring with laughter one moment, only for the rug to be pulled out from under them—whether through shock, fear, sadness, deep emotion, or enchantment. There are countless ways to navigate between riotous humor and raw human feeling.”
Continuing this thematic thread, “Weer” is a comedy with tragic underpinnings. “I really wanted to portray a violent car crash,” Palamides revealed. She recalled “Last Kiss,” a 1960s ballad famously covered by Pearl Jam in the late ’90s, a song her aunt frequently played. “I was always drawn to the vivid imagery of him cradling his dying love on the ground,” she explained.
This effortless shift between humor and deep emotion is a cornerstone of clowning, an art form Palamides reveres so deeply she admits to a touch of imposter syndrome regarding the title. “Everyone calls me a clown, and I want to be a clown,” she shared, highlighting her aspiration.
Palamides’ calling began early in her Pittsburgh childhood. In middle school, classmates would often stop her to request impromptu character performances. However, this natural talent didn’t immediately translate to a clowning class she took at Indiana University of Pennsylvania.
Noticing her struggle, her professor, Rick Kemp, issued a stern warning: “If you can’t be vulnerable and truly open up, you’ll fail clowning.” Palamides noted the irony, as “the entire essence of clowning is to embrace failure.” Despite this paradox, she dedicated herself to breaking down her emotional barriers and ultimately earned an A.
During a residency by the Philadelphia theater company Pig Iron at her university, Palamides delved deeper into theater’s capacity for character exploration. She contributed to Pig Iron’s production of “I Promised Myself to Live Faster,” a play drawing inspiration from the life and artistry of New York writer and performer Charles Ludlam.
“That’s truly where I found my passion for drag,” Palamides recalled. “The workshop, inspired by Charles Ludlam, had us all portraying characters of the opposite sex. We explored his unique blend of camp and profound emotional resonance.”
After graduating, Palamides moved to Los Angeles with her partner, where she began animation work and, more importantly, joined John Gilkey’s Idiot Workshop. She credits this workshop as the epicenter of L.A.’s vibrant alt-clown movement.
Audience interaction is a cornerstone of Palamides’ clowning. She hones her performances through public improvisations, skillfully assessing reactions and weaving them into her distinctive theatrical universe. In her early show, “Laid,” for instance, she played a woman who mysteriously laid an egg daily, facing the poignant decision of whether to consume it or care for it.
Palamides works without a script. While her performances are verbally sharp and physically precise, she avoids conventional rehearsals. “It’s too much to endure for an empty room,” she explained. True to form, her shows often conclude with the stage in a state of delightful disarray, littered with props, debris, and various fluids.
Fellow clown and comedian Courtney Pauroso praised Palamides: “It’s incredibly entertaining to witness her deliberately create an impossible, even genuinely hazardous, situation on stage, and then ingeniously navigate her way through it.” Pauroso has collaborated with Palamides on the series “The Broadcast,” currently seeking a streaming platform.
Palamides candidly confessed, “I genuinely enjoy shocking people. Sometimes I feel like a hack comedian because many of my acts—like nudity, fire-breathing, or wrestling—rely on sheer shock value.”
This, however, seemed a standard disclaimer from an artist whose work offers profound insights into themes like gender, all while meticulously dissecting the intricate mechanics of laughter.
During an early chat at Wild Cherry, the restaurant housed within Cherry Lane, Palamides showcased her meticulous approach to physical comedy. She deconstructed a fleeting moment in “Weer” where Mark places his hand on Christina’s arm as she attempts to exit. She demonstrated numerous subtle variations, explaining how only one elicits laughter, highlighting the “really specific” nature of these tiny movements. Her exacting standards were also evident when she directed Bill O’Neill’s show, “The Amazing Banana Brothers.” O’Neill recounted a time when he permitted her to give notes mid-performance: “She immediately interjected, ‘We don’t quite believe you—why not try a different entrance?'”
“For the next hour, I performed about 30 different entrances,” O’Neill shared. “During the show, I was also slipping on numerous banana peels, and she would collect them from the stage and toss them back at me, yelling ‘Faster! Faster!'”
O’Neill bore no ill will. He is now one of the pink-lingerie-clad assistants in “Lady Magic,” a show Palamides envisioned and directed as a critique of pompous magicians, with an eye toward a Las Vegas residency. This production, workshopped at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in August, is being developed in collaboration with Spiegelworld, the creative force behind spectaculars like “Absinthe.”
“Lady Magic” boasts many of Palamides’ signature elements, including the playful handling of a soft rubber prop. However, it’s further distinguished by her unwavering commitment to integrating genuine magic tricks. “Everyone would tease me because I’d constantly insist that it needed to be more magical,” she recounted.
For Palamides, continuous experimentation and pushing boundaries are core to her method. This was vividly demonstrated in a surreal episode of the Apple TV+ series “Gutsy,” which centered on comedy and brought together Palamides, Hillary Clinton, Chelsea Clinton, and acclaimed French clown Philippe Gaulier. During their session, Chelsea Clinton even permitted Palamides to recreate the “May I?” scene from “Nate” by touching her breasts.
Ultimately, you only truly discover what resonates by daring to try.
Palamides concluded with a philosophical note: “In every aspect of this work, there’s space for improvisation and always room for failure. That, to me, embodies the true spirit of the clown.”