When A24 bought and renovated the historic Cherry Lane Theater in the West Village, they opted for something unexpected instead of a grand, star-studded drama or an experimental work. Their choice? A clown.
This decision highlights not only the unique comedic force of Natalie Palamides, the writer and star of the acclaimed solo show “Weer” at the Cherry Lane, but also the remarkable rise of clowning itself. Once relegated to the fringes of entertainment alongside ventriloquists and mimes, clowning is now a respected art form.
While stand-up often feels stagnant and improv slowly recovers from the pandemic’s impact, clowns are boldly taking over the cultural scene. They’re popping up on streaming platforms and in prestigious theaters, consistently earning glowing reviews and accolades at major fringe festivals from Edinburgh to Philadelphia.
Forget the traditional red-nosed circus clowns of your childhood. This contemporary wave of performers is entirely different. It’s telling that their rise coincides with Cirque du Soleil’s shift away from clowns, favoring acrobatic displays. While clowns still have a place in the circus, many are now finding their niche in dedicated comedy and theater venues. How did the familiar figures like Bozo and Ronald McDonald evolve into a form of high-brow entertainment?
Of course, ‘arty’ clowns aren’t a new phenomenon. Icons like David Shiner and Bill Irwin spearheaded the New Vaudevillians movement in the ’80s and ’90s. Even two decades ago, shows like “All Wear Bowlers,” where Geoff Sobelle and Trey Lyford depicted silent film stars emerging from a screen, marked a significant achievement.
However, today’s vibrant clown scene boasts a distinct character, both in its sheer volume of talent and its artistic approach. These theatrical, narrative-driven performances are often more raw, outspoken, daring, sexually charged, and female-led compared to past iterations.
In “Weer,” Palamides delivers an electrifying performance that’s captivating audiences at the Cherry Lane.
Natalie Palamides exemplifies this new era of ambitious clowning. It’s almost ironic that she’s widely recognized from Progressive commercials, given her onstage persona is anything but comforting. Her breakthrough came with the 2017 show “Nate,” where she portrayed a provocative, boundary-pushing ‘bro,’ riding a motorcycle, chugging beers, and engaging with the audience in a chaotic manner. Her latest, “Weer,” channels this same confrontational spirit into a groundbreaking, comedic take on the romantic comedy genre.
Like many brilliant comedies, “Weer” kicks off with a ridiculous premise executed with unwavering dedication. Palamides physically embodies two distinct characters: one half a bearded, Chuck Taylor-clad male, the other adorned in makeup, a skirt, and heels. Picture Batman’s Two-Face reimagining “When Harry Met Sally” as a one-person show.
Palamides fully embraces the absurdity, often breaking character to share a knowing glance or a smirk with the audience, as if to ask, ‘Can you believe this?’ Yet, she masterfully pulls you into the meticulously crafted, equally idiotic romantic figures she portrays.
While cleverly parodying rom-com tropes – her male character’s “You complete me” takes on new, unsettling dimensions – Palamides also boldly weaves in discussions of consent and abuse amidst deliberately outlandish comedic moments. The show is a constant stream of ‘I can’t believe she just did that!’ scenarios: from explicit sex and hilariously protracted deaths to flying animals, masturbation, nude showers, and a surprisingly profound depiction of heaven. It’s an overwhelming, unforgettable experience.
Truly, “Weer” stands out as a unique theatrical offering, pushing boundaries and guaranteeing an experience unlike anything else currently on stage.
Equally unconventional is Estonian clown Julia Masli, whose celebrated show “Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha” captivated audiences at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, then played successful runs at New York’s SoHo Playhouse and the Public Theater earlier this year. With a gentle, accented voice, Masli would approach audience members, softly intoning “Problem” (with a distinct emphasis on the second syllable), then patiently await their responses in the ensuing silence. Surprisingly, people would begin to share their deepest anxieties – about loneliness, fear, or politics – prompting Masli to offer her unique, often bizarre, ‘solutions,’ which could involve audience members napping onstage or revealing their most intimate secrets.
Masli’s unique approach involves allowing audience members to fill the silence, prompting them to open up about their ‘problems’.
While her work contains a ‘woo-woo’ emotionalism that might not appeal to everyone (including myself), its undeniable power is clear. Masli has more than just a dedicated following; her show evokes the immersive, almost cult-like experience she creates.
Despite their contrasting styles—Masli’s earnest, new-age tranquility versus Palamides’s sharp, provocative chaos—both artists share an intense aesthetic that draws audiences in completely. They fearlessly explore emotional and physical disorder, challenging social norms with a veneer of playful innocence. Crucially, both prioritize the live experience, fully integrating the audience into their narratives. Masli might crowd-surf, while Palamides might kiss a patron, creating an immersive theatrical event far removed from typical stand-up comedy’s audience interaction.
In today’s crowded entertainment world, audiences crave unforgettable ‘events’ over polished performances. They seek unpredictable, mind-bending experiences that spark both joy and profound emotion, and these clowns consistently deliver.
Distinguishing between a clown, a comedian, and a performance artist can be tricky, but often it boils down to their training. While the influence of improv legends like Del Close has faded, the ‘clown guru’ maintains a significant presence in the contemporary performance scene.
Many young artists who once would have enrolled in improv academies like the Upright Citizens Brigade are now choosing clown schools instead. For example, Rainn Wilson recently credited his clown training for shaping his iconic portrayal of Dwight in “The Office.” The city’s most lively showcase, “Stamptown” at the Bell House, even draws its inspiration from Etampes, France, home of the renowned clown mentor Philippe Gaulier.
When I profiled the distinctive Philippe Gaulier in 2022, his philosophy of disciplined play and blunt criticism was evident, showing how he could both captivate and alienate. He is considered a foundational figure in contemporary clowning, and one of his key proteges, Phil Burgers (who runs his own influential school and directed Palamides’s early work), carries on his legacy. (Masli also trained under Gaulier.)
Earlier this year, Phil Burgers, performing as Dr. Brown, made a rare visit to New York from Los Angeles, staging two solo shows in a small Brooklyn venue. Despite the modest attendance, Burgers proved to be a powerhouse performer, radiating comedic intensity. A particularly memorable silent sketch involved him comically attempting to crucify himself.
Through pure mime, he vividly conveyed the agony of hammering a nail into his wrist, each strike imbued with precise, powerful detail. The violence veered into absurdity when he realized his right hand was incapacitated, making it impossible to complete the task with his left. So, he tore the nail out and tried the other wrist, only to fail again, repeating the cycle with increasing, hilariously perverse frustration. The humor lies in its sheer futility.
This philosophy of comedic failure could very well be the mantra of modern clowning. A central theme in this scene is the art of embracing blunders. In Palamides’s show, every dropped prop or misstep was highlighted, often with a cheeky thumbs-up to the audience. Similarly, a friend recounted how Masli, upon an audience member claiming no ‘problems,’ promptly instructed them to exit the theater.
In an era dominated by algorithms and artificial intelligence, this embrace of chaos and imperfection deeply resonates. As we pour billions into technology that threatens to displace human labor, these clowns, with their inherently flawed and vulnerable performances, feel profoundly and indispensably human.