When A24 acquired and revitalized the historic Cherry Lane Theater, a renowned Off-Broadway venue in the West Village, the prominent film company chose not to debut with a critically acclaimed drama or an avant-garde production. Instead, their inaugural act was something quite unexpected.
They brought in a clown.
This groundbreaking choice says a lot about Natalie Palamides, the comedic powerhouse who wrote and stars in “Weer,” a one-woman show currently electrifying audiences at the Cherry Lane. It also highlights the remarkable rise of clowning, an art form once relegated to niche entertainment alongside ventriloquists and mimes. Times have certainly changed.
While traditional stand-up often feels stagnant and improv is still recovering from recent disruptions, clowns are experiencing a cultural explosion. They’re making waves on streaming platforms and in esteemed theaters, garnering enthusiastic reviews and prestigious awards at renowned fringe festivals in Edinburgh and Philadelphia.
These modern performers bear little resemblance to the red-nosed jesters of childhood circuses. Their resurgence isn’t accidental, following a period where Cirque du Soleil increasingly prioritized acrobatic feats over traditional clown acts. While still part of the circus, these clowns have carved out their own space in comedy and theatrical venues. How did the art of figures like Bozo and Ronald McDonald transform into sophisticated entertainment?
To be clear, artistic clowning isn’t a recent invention. David Shiner and Bill Irwin spearheaded the New Vaudevillians movement in the 1980s and ’90s. Two decades prior, “All Wear Bowlers” marked a significant moment, featuring Geoff Sobelle and Trey Lyford as bowler-hatted Beckettian silent film stars who appeared to emerge from a cinema screen.
However, today’s wave of clown performers distinguishes itself in sheer numbers, cultural impact, and artistic approach. Their theatrical shows are notably more visceral, outspoken, boundary-pushing, sexual, and often female-led compared to earlier generations.
Natalie Palamides stands out as a prime example of this new ambitious clowning. Her fame from Progressive commercials is almost ironic, as her stage persona is anything but comforting. Her breakout role in the 2017 production “Nate” (later a Netflix special) saw her embody a crude, boisterous “bro” who rode a motorcycle, drank beers, and provocatively interacted with the audience. “Weer” channels this same confrontational spirit into a groundbreaking romantic comedy.
The show kicks off with a hilariously absurd premise executed with unwavering dedication: Palamides portrays both sides of a rom-com. One half of her body is the bearded, Chuck Taylor-clad male lead, while the other is adorned in makeup, a skirt, and heels. Picture Batman’s villain Two-Face performing a one-person “When Harry Met Sally.”
Palamides is fully aware of the absurdity. She frequently breaks character, not just to switch roles, but to cast knowing glances at the audience, silently asking, “Are you seeing this madness?” Her self-aware smirk quickly pulls you into the meticulously crafted, equally foolish romantic leads.
Beyond spoofing rom-com tropes – her male character’s “You complete me” carries an entirely new weight – she cleverly interweaves serious themes of consent and abuse amidst outrageously silly moments. The show is filled with shocking scenes: explicit sexuality, comically prolonged deaths, fantastical airborne animals, self-pleasure, nude showers, and a surprisingly profound vision of heaven. It’s an experience that pushes boundaries.
This production, more than any other in the city, truly strives to offer audiences an unprecedented experience.
Similarly, Estonian clown Julia Masli garnered immense acclaim for her show “Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.” After a successful run at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, it captivated audiences at the SoHo Playhouse and later the Public Theater in New York earlier this year. Masli, with her charmingly quiet demeanor and thick accent, would approach audience members, softly intoning “Problem,” with a distinct emphasis on the second syllable. She’d then allow an uncomfortable silence to hang in the air until audience members, seemingly compelled, began to confide in her about their loneliness, anxieties, or political fears. Her attempts to “help” would lead to delightfully unexpected scenarios, from patrons napping onstage to sharing their most intimate secrets.
While her work delves into a certain “woo-woo” emotionalism that might not appeal to everyone (myself included), its profound impact is undeniable. Masli has cultivated more than just a loyal following; her show evokes the immersive, almost cult-like experience of shared vulnerability.
Masli and Palamides, despite their contrasting styles—one offering heartfelt new-age sincerity, the other sharp, provocative humor; one Freudian analysis, the other shock therapy—showcase the incredible breadth of modern clowning. What unites them is an intense artistic vision that fosters deep engagement. They fearlessly explore emotional and physical chaos, push against social conventions, all while maintaining a veneer of playful innocence. Crucially, both prioritize the live, immersive experience, drawing the audience directly into their narratives. Masli might crowd-surf, while Palamides might share a spontaneous kiss with a patron. Their audience interaction feels less like typical stand-up banter and more like a vibrant, participatory theater event reminiscent of the 1960s.
In today’s crowded entertainment world, audiences crave unique experiences, not just polished performances. They seek unpredictable, mind-bending spectacles that ignite not only enjoyment but also profound passion. These contemporary clowns masterfully deliver exactly that.
Distinguishing a clown from a comedian or performance artist can be tricky, but often, the key lies in their training. While the reverence for improv legends like Del Close has diminished, the influence of the clown guru continues to thrive in contemporary culture.
I frequently encounter young artists who, in the past, would have honed their skills at institutions like the Upright Citizens Brigade, but are now gravitating towards clown schools. For instance, Rainn Wilson, when discussing his portrayal of Dwight in “The Office,” readily attributed his character development to his clowning background. One of the city’s most consistently energetic shows, “Stamptown” at the Bell House, draws its inspiration from Etampes, France, the home of renowned clowning master Philippe Gaulier.
During a visit to the famously bushy-bearded Philippe Gaulier for a 2022 profile, he emphasized the importance of disciplined play and candid, often harsh, criticism. It was clear how his methods could both motivate and alienate. If Gaulier is considered a patriarch of the modern clown movement, then Phil Burgers, who founded his own acclaimed school, is a key disciple. Burgers notably directed several of Palamides’ early works, while Masli herself trained under Gaulier.
Earlier this year, Phil Burgers, known professionally as Dr. Brown, made a rare visit from Los Angeles to New York, presenting two solo shows in a small Brooklyn venue. Despite the somewhat sparse attendance, his performances were explosive, showcasing an electrifying comedic intensity. A particularly memorable silent sketch involved him comically miming an an attempt at self-crucifixion.
Though entirely pantomimed, he masterfully conveyed the agonizing sensation of each nail being hammered into his wrist. The blows were rendered with remarkable precision and impact. The violence quickly spiraled into absurdity when he realized his right hand, now “nailed down,” prevented him from finishing the task with his left. In a fit of frustration, he “ripped” the nail out and began anew on the other hand, only to fail once more. This cycle repeated, each attempt building in comic exasperation, a truly hilarious and perverse display. The humor, it became clear, stemmed from the sheer futility of his efforts.
This sense of futility could well be the unofficial motto of the contemporary clown. The prevailing theme across the scene is undoubtedly the comedy of failure. In Palamides’ performance, she deliberately highlighted every misstep, from fumbling a prop to offering a cheeky thumbs-up to the audience. Similarly, during Masli’s show, a friend recounted that when an audience member claimed to have no “problems,” Masli calmly instructed them to exit the theater.
This chaotic, unapologetically flawed spirit deeply resonates in our current era dominated by algorithms and artificial intelligence. In a reality where humanity invests billions in technology that many concede will displace jobs, these clowns stand out as profoundly, even necessarily, human.