Entertainment

Back in Boston, Mike Birbiglia brings all of us in on the joke

In advance of 10 Boston shows, the Shrewsbury native talks carnivals, death, Steven Wright, and Taylor Swift’s dystopian nightmare. 

By Lauren Daley

December 13, 2023

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One of my favorite Mike Birbiglia bits:

“A few years ago, [my wife Jen and I] went to our friend Katie’s birthday and this lady got up and gave like a speech, which isn’t a thing. That’s why I remember it so well. She said: ‘Last year, Katie and I went SCUBA diving, and her oxygen tank got stuck in the rocks, and I wriggled it free, and I may have saved her life. I saved your best friend’s life.’ And Jen and I lock eyes from across the room, and we project the sentence: We’re gonna talk about this for years.”

It’s from the Shrewsbury native’s 2019 Netflix special, “The New One,” and it embodies Birbiglia’s style: An inside joke-turned-public joke. It works because it’s so specific yet we’ve all been there. (Someone even made t-shirts, stickers and phone cases.)

It’s what Mike Birbiglia does best: Turn inside jokes out.

I told Birbiglia I laughed so hard at that because I can feel that moment, staring at my boyfriend with the same look.

“Oh my God, yes. I try to foster that with my audiences,” he says. “I think the funniest jokes are inside jokes — the jokes you have with your partner, your parents, your best friends. If you can create that in a group of a thousand people, that’s magic.”

He first felt that magic as a kid watching Boston comic Steven Wright at Cape Cod Melody Tent.

Today, the title of Birbiglia’s upcoming run of 10 Boston shows, at The Wilbur from Dec. 15-23, is something of an inside joke. While his current national tour is called “Please Stop The Ride,” he calls the Boston run “Christmas Parmesan.” (I asked.)

With his new Netflix Special, “The Old Man and the Pool,” up for a Critic’s Choice Award for Best Comedy Special, I called Birbiglia at his Brooklyn home to talk Pizzeria Regina, death, Boston accents, Taylor Swift’s worst nightmare, and sleep-jumping. 

Boston.com: So you switched the tour name to “Christmas Parmesan” for your 10 shows here.

Mike Birbiglia: Yeah, I love coming home to Massachusetts for the holidays. At a certain point, my brother Joe [a frequent collaborator and producer] and I thought it’d be funny if we called it “Christmas Parmesan” because our family doesn’t do a very religious Christmas. If anything [we just eat] chicken parmesan.

[Laughs] Right.

I love being there at the holidays. It brings back the nostalgia of my parents taking me to Faneuil Hall when I was a kid. We’d get Chinese food and Pizzeria Regina, and it’s all decorated, and Boston Common is gorgeous.

So your Netflix special “The Old Man and the Pool” just released. What sparked that material?

The thing I’ve been obsessed with in last few years is death and hitting midlife. So I sort of went deep. My biggest fear was: Maybe it’s too close to the bone. Maybe it’s too serious for people to have fun with. But it’s actually hit the widest group of people. 

Death’s universally relatable.

Yeah. It’s pretty much going to happen.

So the tour you’re doing now, “Please Stop the Ride” — or “Christmas Parmesan” in Boston — what sparked this material?

The namesake is this carnival that came every year to Olde Shrewsbury Village. There was a ride called The Scrambler. I invited a girl I had a crush on to go to this carnival when I was in seventh or eighth grade. What you don’t realize at that age is that you shouldn’t eat popcorn and peanuts and cotton candy and then step onto a machine called The Scrambler.

[laughs] Right.

All I remember is throwing up all over the pavement, just insulating the pavement with my homemade carnival-salsa. Every 90 seconds, The Scrambler would scramble close to a Scrambler operator and I would shout: “Please stop the ride!” 

I feel like that’s a metaphor for all my experiences growing up, and now at age 45. When I was a kid, I’d look at my parents and think, “Well, they know what they’re doing.” Now that my daughter is 8, I’m like, “Oh, I have no idea what I’m doing.” A lot of the show is flashbacks to childhood, and a lot is interactions with my daughter and figuring it out. 

Growing up, you’ve said your parents aren’t I-love-you-people.

Yeah, they say “Take care.” It’s funny, people come up to me all the time and go, “My parents aren’t I-love-you parents, either.” And they’ll say what their family says instead. My friend’s mom said: “Where would I be without you?” When I was in England, someone said, “My parents would say ‘Jolly good.’” You hear so many variations.

Were your parents funny? 

In their own way. My dad is very dry; my mom is a funny Irish storyteller. That’s how I ended up being a dry storyteller, which I don’t even think is a genre.

When did you realize you wanted to be a comedian?

When I was 16, my brother Joe took me to the Cape Cod Melody Tent to see to see legendary Boston comedian Steven Wright, and it was one of those rare moments of epiphany. I’m watching him, thinking, “Oh, this is what I’m gonna do.” I was laughing so hard it hurt my face. I didn’t know you could laugh that hard.

But what about that night made you realize not just that it was funny, but you had to do it?

His comedy is a combination of the surreal with these extended tangents. I tell stories that have really wild tangents. A fun ride for the audience is when tangents fly all over the place, and then somehow land where they were at the beginning. That’s a fun journey. That’s why live comedy shows are so fun: It’s the absurdity of looking around and seeing other people laugh at a thing that you thought only you would think is funny. 

That’s why the Steven Wright experience was so special. It was this person saying these completely absurd things. One of his jokes was: “I went to a drive-in movie in the back of a cab. The movie cost me $95.”

[laughs] Right.

[laughs] Just bizarre thoughts. Almost like a daydream shared with a thousand people. Witnessing people laugh together at daydreams is a trippy experience unto itself. 

That’s true. And you’ve got that famous bit from 2008 about sleepwalking and jumping through a second story window of the La Quinta Inn in Walla Walla [“Sleepwalk With Me”]. Is there really a plaque that commemorates it there?

There is. [“This American Life” host] Ira Glass made a plaque and sent it to that La Quinta Inn. Sometimes my fans will go to that hotel and stay in the room and send photos on Instagram. I mean, it’s ridiculous. I haven’t gone back since I jumped through the window. I’m going back in January to Walla Walla and I’m going to tell that story again, which I’m really excited about. I think I may tell it in Boston. It’s a fun one to tell. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes the story funnier. 

You had a bit on your podcast,“Mike Birbiglia’s Working It Out,” about Boston accents. 

Yeah. All toddlers have a Boston accent.

Did you ever have one? Did you try to lose it? 

I never did, but so many of my friends do. I mean, it’s a hilarious accent. Fundamentally, it just sounds like your mouth is broken. It sounds like you’re speaking like a toddler. I love it.

Can you fake one? A lot of people can’t do it right.

[Breaks into perfect Boston accent] We’ah goin’ ovah to Shrewsbury Pizzah, and then we’ah goin to Oxfid, Lancastah, Lestah. I could pass for Boston all day. 

[laughs] Nice. You were in a Taylor Swift video, as her future son. How did that happen?

I’m an old friend of Jack Antonoff, who writes and produces with her. I was at something she was at and it just so happened she was [working on] the video for “Antihero” at that moment. I think it just occurred to her: “Oh, this is the dystopian nightmare of who my son would be.”

[laughs] Right.

It ended up being a dream come true for me.

What are some other surreal moments you’ve had?

The last show was on Broadway and the West End in London. Tom Hanks came, Paul Rudd came — but then yesterday, I was performing at a dental convention.  As a comedian, I don’t think you can lose sight of who you are and what real life is unless you go out of your way to do that. If you’re a true comedian, there’s a hell-gig around your corner.

What was your major at Georgetown?

I was an English major. I studied screenwriting. Then I realized that no one is looking for screenwriters. Like, it’s a job that literally no one is looking for.

[laughs] Right.

So I was like, Well, I can write these solo shows; they’re like plays. That’s sort of how I merged my education with my passion.

Where did you start out performing in Boston?

The Comedy Studio, Nick’s Comedy Stop, the Comedy Connection in Faneuil Hall. Then the Cape Cod Melody Tent. My brother and sister live in Providence. The Columbus Theater in Providence is one of the main one places I work out new material. 

You started your podcast during the pandemic. 

Now it’s coming up on 120 episodes. We’ve had a bunch of Boston folks on it — Gary Gulman, Conan O’Brien. I was actually just on his podcast “Conan O’Brien Needs A Friend” for the second time. He’s been really supportive. I was an intern on his show in college.

What did you think of that recent Atlantic story about you? It was kind of funny — parts felt like: Despite himself, he still succeeds.  

[laughs] Yeah, I thought it was funny. I don’t know. I have a sense of humor about that whole thing. I was on Jimmy Fallon recently and talked about how I went to Questlove’s Uno party. Vulture said: There was a who’s who of celebrities at this party and also Mike Birbiglia was there.

There was an interview with Jerry Seinfeld years ago, where he said: You don’t decide what’s funny about you, the audience decides what’s funny about you. And if you’re smart, you’ll listen. That’s how I feel about it. I’m like, “Oh, that’s how people perceive me? That’s pretty funny. I can run with that.”

Mike Birbiglia is at The Wilbur Dec. 15-23; tickets are still available for several shows.

Interview has been edited and condensed. Lauren Daley can be reached at [email protected]. Follow her on Twitter/X @laurendaley1.