Remember that the next time you feel creeping alarm about climate change, impeachment proceedings, or Brexit. As George Carlin once said, "There's a humorous side to every situation. The challenge is to find it." But in the age of Twitter and op-eds about bad dates with comedians, it's hard to keep track of what's funny and what's cringey. In the last decade, we've been treated to all variations. From critics lamenting that Hannah Gadsby's emotional comedy isn't "real" stand-up to Dave Chappelle returning to say exactly what's on his mind regardless of the political climate, our cultural understanding of what constitutes comedy is currently in flux.
Is Mike Birbiglia's vulnerability funny? Is Bo Burnham's peppy musical satire funny? We're saying yes. Why? On the enduring power of comedy, American humorist Mark Twain once said, "Humor must not professedly teach, and it must not professedly preach, but it must do both if it would live forever"–which is lovely, but Richard Pryor frankly put it better when he said, "Two things people throughout history have had in common are hatred and humor. I am proud that I have been able to use humor to lesson people's hatred."
That is to say: Some comedic talents have shone undeniable light upon our existential dread, and for that we're thankful.
In a culture that grows increasingly irony-poisoned and irony-fatigued, we're embracing a brand of emotional comedy that values earnestness over cynicism.
Photo by Marion Curtis (StarPix for WestBeth/Shutterstock)
One year ago, we met Hannah Gadsby in her deeply introspective, game-changing Netflix comedy special Nanette.
Since then, the 41-year-old Australian has defied categorization. From prompting thoughtful critiques about the social function of comedy to living in an openly lesbian relationship while resisting labels for her gender and orientation ("I identify as tired, just tired," she quips), Gadsby is hard to define—other than as one of the finest comedians today. But she's better described as a comedian of the future. She's continued to challenge and transcend the genre, with detractors arguing that her art doesn't even constitute stand-up comedy. She shrugs off the discontent with her persistence that art is humane; it lacks boundaries between the personal and political, the tawdry and philosophical. Ultimately, she's post-irony—not as an edgy statement, but as an individual who's wary of the self-satire of self-effacement. Instead, she fills the performance space with intimate and earnest confessions. In a culture that grows increasingly irony-poisoned and irony-fatigued, we're embracing a brand of emotional comedy that values earnestness over cynicism.
Hannah Gadsby: Nanette | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixyoutu.be
Emotional comedy is the logical conclusion of a decade of cynical and ironic media that preserves our emotional barriers but ultimately strips us of genuine connection. While it's "a widely embraced default setting for social interaction, writing, and the visual art," Salonwrites, "irony fosters an affected nihilistic attitude that is no edgier than a syndicated episode of 'Seinfeld.'" It's normal to crave connection, and Gadsby does so boldly. Among the first reviews of Nanette, Slate's Andrew Kahn wrote, "Nanette challenges an idea of comedy, humor as truth-telling, that passed as common sense until pretty recently," he writes. "Over the past two years, that idea has come in for a bruising—if not on the stage, certainly in the public square, where buffoonish politicians, racist trolls, and abusive comedians have stoked a debate about the perils of irony. This show ought to be seen as a product of that debate: When you take the anti-irony train all the way to the end of the line, one place you can end up is 'Nanette.'"
Nanette was critically acclaimed for Gadsby's blending of personal anecdotes, confession, and politics. She combats our cultural reflex towards cynicism with her self-acceptance and confident rejection of societal expectations that she's not interested in fulfilling—as a comedian, artist, queer person, rape survivor, woman who's exercised her right to have an abortion, or person with autism. She tells her audience, "I don't want to unite you with laughter or anger. I just need my story heard." She reflects in a recent Variety interview, "I didn't set out to speak about anybody else's experience other than my own and feel incredibly humbled to think that I may have articulated an experience felt by so many others all over the world. Humbled and saddened, I guess." Regardless, Gadsby sees her prominence as an opportunity: "I deal with the responsibility of being out and proud and even loud as much as I possibly can because there are people who need to see me. I don't need to see me." She added dryly, "I see me every day. But I understand the importance of being a public person who can be representative of a minority."
I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
So what's the appeal of a 70-minute set from a comedian who runs the gamut from the overrated qualities of Game of Thrones to Christianity's misogyny, "manspreading" as a form of colonization, and Taylor Swift? Well, of course, Gadsby is funny, extending embarrassing personal anecdotes into vivid caricatures of shame, while shooting the occasional quick-witted barb. She's also weird. Media and art are always looking to speak against history's focus on heteronormative, neurotypical, and politically neutral stories; but, today's comedy particularly embraces the off-kilter and not-quite-normal, from the socially awkward sketch comedy of I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson (which Netflix just renewed for a second season) to the cringe comedy of HBO's Insecure. In Gadsby's view, "I think sometimes people find me endearingly odd, and that's fine," she says. "But it is troubling when you don't know what it is."
Despite being named as one of the most powerful people in comedy earlier this week, Gadsby's troubles culminated in 2018 when she planned to leave comedy after over a decade of performing. Aside from struggling to accept her non-normative identities ("You know what I reckon my problem is? I don't lesbian enough," she quips in Nanette), she attributed her desire to quit to a pervasive feeling of irony fatigue: "I built a career out of self-deprecating humor. That's what I've built my career on. And… I don't want to do that anymore. Because do you understand what self-deprecation means when it comes from somebody who already exists in the margins? It's not humility. It's humiliation. I put myself down in order to speak, in order to seek permission to speak. And I simply will not do that anymore. Not to myself or anybody who identifies with me." She adds, "And if that means that my comedy career is over, then so be it."
Hot corner shop action - Fleabag: Episode 2 - BBC Threewww.youtube.com
Luckily, it wasn't. Gadsby continues to lead a rising style of comedy that doesn't just embrace oddity; it ultimately does so in order to combat shame. In regards to her critics, Gadsby toldVariety, "What I find so funny about these men getting so angry about comedy is, for starters, it's all made up. Laughter is biological, human—and I'm not a straight white man so that culture can fuck off." Gadsby surmises that her popularity is due to her frank voice about traditionally silent experiences, from identifying as queer in the conservative society of Tasmania to having autism. "I think what I have, and it's something I've had to work really hard at, is an absence of shame," she says. "That feels more important to me than an active position of pride."
Gadsby represents a kind of emotional comedy that we as a society weren't ready for even 10 years ago. After all, earnest sharing-and-caring is taxing to sit through; it's harder to satisfy an audience when art takes emotional labor. But today, rather than the edge lord obscenity of the 80s and 90s and the slapstick parodies of the early 2000s, popular comedies are repackaging the heartfelt messages of the after-school sitcom with embarrassing self-awareness. Fleabag's emotional depths are mined by awkwardness and heart-wrenching dialogue. Pen 15 has been called "grossly uncomfortable" but with "fine sensitivity" to middle school angst. One of Netflix's genre-defining standouts, the coming-of-age animated series Big Mouth, employs truth-telling and cringe humor to create starkly relatable and surprisingly poignant stories of adolescence. As Collider points out, the comedy's success lies in its bald depictions of "generations' worth of shame, guilt, perversion, confusion, rocky relationships and dating disasters to deliver an absolutely bonkers portrayal of what it looks, feels, and even smells like to be a teenager transitioning into adulthood." But, like Gadsby, "it also succeeds as meaningful storytelling by delivering these sex-crazed snippets in an earnest way."
One year ago, almost to the day, Hannah Gadsby's Nanette was "the most discussed comedy special in ages," as covered by The New York Times. She repackaged modern comedy as a method to speak truths honestly rather than through the guise of parody or cynicism. That kind of earnest comedy is uncomfortable because it feels foreign yet innate: sometimes truths aren't funny, but defense mechanisms don't define a sense of humor any more than they define a whole person. Ultimately, Gadsby is an "octopi." She says, "I used to really be guarded about my brain thoughts. But I realized that what's interesting about me is my brain. That's why I wear a little octopus." She wears a pin of the animal, endeared to her for the fact that octopuses have nine brains (they also have three hearts). "I kind of feel like that with autism, because of my sensitivity to my environment," she explains. "So I identify not only as 'tired,' but as 'octopi.'"
While 50-year-old Ted Alexandro is fervorous about landing a good joke, he considers comedy a complex art form and tries his best to cancel out all the noise when crafting his material.
"It's about you sitting in a room, focusing in on your interests," Alexandro told Popdust. "The evolution of discourse and sensitivity is incredibly good for society and good for comedy." Alexandro's new podcast,
A Little Bit Me, is less comedic and more stream of consciousness. Alexandro regularly indulges in self-reflection, pondering his own faults. "Welcome to 'A Little Bit Me,' but is it just me?" Alexandro says in one episode. "Aren't we all connected to a larger ecosystem? Undoubtedly we are in ways we can't comprehend, but do we embrace that mystery?" While the tangents sometimes border on rambling, Alexandro is quick to recognize that fact and laugh at his tendencies before they become detrimental, adding hilarious orchestral cues or other edits that show he can laugh at himself. "In stand up, there has to be an economy of words, there has to be a laugh every few sentences, but with my podcast, I can be more extemporaneous, I can explore." In an exclusive interview with Popdust, Alexandro spoke further on being a socially responsible comic, his fierce criticism of Louis C.K., and his inspiration for his podcast.
You've talked extensively about comedy being an art form, it's rare to hear a comic describe stand up as art. Could you elaborate?
I mean, it's all the arts. I have a jazz piano background as well, and, for me, comedy isn't much further a leap from that. I was one of five siblings growing up, and we were all involved extensively in the arts, too, so I was constantly surrounded by it.
Having that many siblings who are also artistic, did you ever feel any jealousy or competition with them?
We all just honestly enjoyed each other. The arts were just a fun way for us all to express ourselves, and we were all just natural performers in different ways. I also played baseball and basketball growing up with my brothers, and that definitely manifested more competition than the arts ever did.
How did you discover you were into stand up?
It was kind of a roundabout way. I always loved performing and just being around that. My church growing up had a theater group I did in the summers, and the people running it were a jazz guitarist and a director, and they were both very legitimate, and I just felt very at home there.
What's your creative process like?
It's kinda a "process." If it's autobiographical, it's more about finding a rhythm and talking through it. But if it's something like social commentary, I start with a point of view and then work backward to try and find something that's equally as funny as it is respectful. I want to add to the discourse. If I have a sense something is funny, it usually is, but I just gotta make sure to fine tune it.
In terms of the social commentary, do you feel that being a white male comedian in 2019 means you have to be more cautious about sharing your material?
I wouldn't say cautious, but I would say just "more aware." If your jokes depend on offending someone or come at the expense of others, then you definitely need to be more aware. Especially with social media making it so easy to broadcast someone's stand up out into the world—it heightens the stakes. But I only think this makes for better comedy if you're evolving, paying attention, and being sensitive.
Have you seen the comedy culture make that shift?
Well, for myself, I've always liked to be aware and responsible. I feel comedians should be able to say what they want but then deal with the consequences. For comedians that tend to be crass, I do see them shifting and being more aware, and they've found a way to deliver their material while kind of winking at the audience, showing them that they know what they're saying is wrong, whereas before it was more overt and done for shock value. The thing about any comedy, though, is the listener finds what they like, and if people don't like certain styles, then they shouldn't listen to that comedy.
You seem to mostly be on board with this shift though. That video of you criticizing Louis C.K. went viral.
I wasn't surprised by that. It was such a heated topic, and I knew that there was going to be some conversation based on the fact that I talked about it on stage at the Comedy Cellar. I just felt that if I could do it in a way that was funny and wasn't just shit-talking, I would be happy with it, and it wasn't even necessarily about him. The Kavanaugh hearing was that week, so it was kind of just talking about the #MeToo movement and how interrelated it all was.
Did you ever have a personal relationship with Louis?
I opened for Louis for about six months about seven years ago. It was definitely disappointing when it happened. I was bummed.
So do you feel Trump and all of these antics have been good for comedy?
No matter who's in office, there is always gonna be comedy made about them, but the absurdity and cartoon nature of this particular presidency has definitely opened up other areas to delve into.
Talk to me a bit more about your podcast. The medium itself seems very flooded. How do you think yours stands out?
I kinda felt like exploring what it would be like. It's been a fun exercise. There's a segment called The Catch Up where I just cold call a comedian friend out of the blue and have a conversation right there. It's fun to do this podcast in a way that's unfiltered and unplanned.
You seem very contemplative on it.
That's just kind of how I am. I'm less like I am on stage. But that's where comedy starts with me, just thinking about things. It's like a sculpture that you gotta chisel down.
Ted Alexandro is on tour now with Jim Gaffigan. Get your tickets here.
With Netflix green-lighting any project with shapes and colors, comedy specials range from amusing to mediocre to feeling as joyless as a DVD enthusiast.
Netflix wants you to realize that you and your friends aren't funny.
With 47 new stand-up comedy specials released on New Year's Day alone, Netflix is banking on your life being so devoid of humor that you'll watch anything. As the company continues to outspend competitors like HBO and CBS, the streaming service is expected to spend $15 billion this year (up from $13 billion in 2018). While they at least do us the favor of keeping Richard Pryor: Live in Concert available to stream, they also green light any project that features shapes and colors.
Netflix's massive collection of comedy specials ranges from amusing to mediocre to feeling as joyless as a DVD enthusiast. Here are five recent specials worth your time–and five that can only be described as crimes against comedy.
1. John Mulaney - New in Town (2012) / Kid Gorgeous at Radio City (2018)
John Mulaney: The Comeback Kid | Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Of Mulaney's three specials, New in Town is required watching, partly due to his unassuming irreverence and partly due to the special's themes about alienation and social anxiety befitting a debut feature. But Kid Gorgeous at Radio City shows the former SNL-writer as a mature comic who's more stylized and practiced in his offbeat, "aw shucks" delivery.
2. Ali Wong - Baby Cobra (2016) / Hard Knock Wife (2018)
Ali Wong: Hard Knock Wife | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Performing while seven months pregnant might be Wong's lucky charm. The Fresh Off the Boat-writer followed up her 2016 special, which inspired Halloween costumes riffing on her large glasses and short dress with a heavily pregnant belly, with a second feature and a second pregnancy. Hard Knock Wife delivers more of Wong's unapologetic humor, from mocking racial and gender stereotypes to comparing a new mother's v*gina to "two hanging dicks."
3. Hannah Gadsby - Nanette (2018)
Hannah Gadsby: Nanette | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Gadsby's much-lauded comedy special taps into our recent interest in more empathetic stand-up. The Australian comedian unpacks queerness and gender biases by exploring her own trauma and identity conflicts–mixed with bawdy and incisive observational humor.
Iliza: Elder Millennial | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Schlesinger's style is so consistent and performative that you forget she got her start winning the lackluster stand-up competition Last Comic Standing in 2008. She's passionate about political issues, but she's also a millennial; her social commentary combines the two in manic bits promoting feminist messages while mocking "girl culture." As a result, some of her stream-of-conscious rants are brilliant, while others make you wonder, "Is that what 'problematic' means?" Both are worth it.
5. Hari Kondabolu - Warn Your Relatives (2018)
Hari Kondabolu: Warn Your Relatives | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Kondabolu is a nerd's comic. With a Masters in Human Rights from the London School of Economics, he is strikingly political, deadpan, and acerbic. If that's not to your taste, that's fine. As he self-deprecates in his set, his Indian mother doesn't get him either.
Crimes against comedy include:
1. Ken Jeong - You Complete Me, Ho (2019)
Ken Jeong: You Complete Me, Ho | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
He's the brilliant comedic mind that earned riotous acclaim in The Hangover in 2009 – as in, his unevolved humor is the exact same. From Asian stereotypes to dad-puns, Jeong switches from dirty jokes to praising his wife's survival of breast cancer with little to no segues.
2. Kevin James - Don't Never Give Up (2018)
Kevin James: Never Don’t Give Up | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
From 1998-2007, Kevin James was a popular choice for a generic sitcom oaf. Sadly, we've grown up since then. As shown by CBS's shortlived show Kevin Can Wait, which Vulture described as "exactly as awful as you imagined," James hasn't. Plus, he apparently really hates people with peanut allergies.
3. Nick Kroll and John Mulaney - Oh, Hello on Broadway (2017)
Oh, Hello Broadway | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
To be clear, we wanted to like this so badly. Between John Mulaney's awkward observational humor and Nick Kroll's sharp self-deprecation creating Big Mouth, there was promise in the two joining forces. If you were won over by the Kroll Show's popular Internet fodder, "Too Much Tuna," you'll probably think this special is fine.
4. Adam Sandler - 100% Fresh (2018)
ADAM SANDLER: 100% FRESH | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Between 1995 and 2007, many of us grew up under the auspices of Adam Sandler's fart jokes and falsetto nonsense. It's like he's who Kevin James wanted to be. But as we came of age, we had to confront difficult realities: the Tooth Fairy isn't real, WWE wrestling is staged, and Adam Sandler isn't funny.
5. Gabriel Iglesias - One Show Fits All (2019)
Gabriel "Fluffy" Iglesias: One Show Fits All | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflixwww.youtube.com
Streaming anything by "Fluffy" is a waste of your bandwidth. But we have to admire him for being one of the richest yet universally unfunny comedians of our time.
Pete Davidson is the comedian-of-the-moment. Making audiences laugh as a Saturday Night Live favorite, the often controversial and sometimes self-deprecating 24-year-old is living his best life, although his recent split from pop princess Ariana Grande may have thrown a wrench into his most wonderful year.
From stand-up to television to film, Davidson is using his knack for timing and telling it like it is to his advantage. Love him or hate him, no one can deny that Davidson's popularity is on the rise. If your Saturday nights revolve around tuning into SNL, specifically to see Davidson do his thing, here's more to know about the New Yorker and what makes him tick.
An Early Entry to Stand-Up
At the age of 16, Davidson knew he had a flair for making folks laugh. He took the stage at a Staten Island bowling alley and worked his magic on the mic. While bowling alleys aren't exactly the place to be "discovered," it was a way for the teen to tell he was on to something. In less than ten years, Davidson's stage went from the alley to the airwaves as a fixture on SNL. Davidson has been on other TV shows like Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Jim Gaffigan Show, Guy Code, and Nick Cannon Presents: Wild 'N Out. He has also graced the silver screen in movies including Trainwreck and Set It Up. Versatile and very funny, Davidson's quirky look and comedic chops give him that certain something fans are fond of.
A Relationship That Came and Went
Fans of both Davidson and Grande were in shock when the two announced they were engaged after dating only briefly. Then, the not-so-shocking declaration of their split came shortly after. The lovebirds were inseparable…until their whirlwind romance ran its course. The sudden death of Grande's ex may have been a contributing factor to the swift split. But they wish each other well and are apparently moving on. Perhaps they'll reconcile or realize it was just a case of "too much, too soon, too young."
A Sad Start
Davidson lost his dad (a NYC firefighter) during the tragic terror attack on September 11. He was only 7-years-old at the time and the loss was devastating. Surely this shaped Davidson's life, understandably and unbelievably. To lose a parent at such a young age and in such a horrible way lives with a child forever. Perhaps comedy was Davidson's way to cope and making his dreams come true a way to honor his father.
What's Next for Davidson?
He's only 24 and is already ruling late night. Making people smile is his strength but making people think (or think he's a jerk) are also part of Davidson's to-dos. Perhaps he'll get his own TV show or star on the big screen in a big-budget comedy. Will he and Grande give it another go? We'll wait and see what the silly Staten Island native has up his sleeve. And it's probably on a raggedy old T-shirt.
Melissa A. Kay is a New York-based writer, editor, and content strategist. Follow her work on Popdust as well as sites including TopDust, Chase Bank, P&G, Understood.org, The Richest, GearBrain, The Journiest, Bella, TrueSelf, Better Homes & Gardens, AMC Daycare, and more.
In 1996, a skinny, gap-toothed comedian with a high-pitched voice articulated to audiences everywhere the distinct difference between Black people and N****s.
The comedy bit took a deep dive into the Black diaspora and called out the subculture for some of its shenanigans. It may have been cringe-worthy to some and even seen as a form of respectability politics to others — but it was an accurate depiction of what many African-Americans experienced and lived through in their respective communities.
Chris Rock's seminal stand-up comedy special Bring The Pain changed the course of his career and introduced many fans to his unique brand of comedy. The legendary one-hour comedy show became Rock's crowning achievement. Now the docuseries Chris Rock's "Bring The Pain," directed by comedian and Emmy Award-winner W. Kamau Bell, illustrates how Rock struggled as a comic prior to his first big break.
Bell is also a comedian who knows the business of stand-up specials and TV hosting. He is most notable for the weekly stand-up comedy television series, Totally Biased with W. Kamau Bell, produced by Chris Rock. He's recently appeared in his own stand-up special on Netflix called W. Kamau Bell: Private School Negro and currently hosts the CNN series United Shades of America. In the documentary, Bell goes behind the camera to examine Chris Rock's early career. Chris Rock's "Bring The Pain" is filled with commentary from fellow comedians and colleagues (such as Martin Lawrence, Wanda Sykes, and Conan O'Brien) who watch clips of Rock's breakout performance along with us, opining on the comedy industry and Rock's success.
Chris Rock sits comfortably in front of the camera with deep laugh lines embossed on his face, formed from decades of hard work and success. He sits with pride and a sense of glee over the accomplishments, as well as failures, of his past, as he confidently reflects on his 1996 special and how it affected his legacy.
Interestingly, before Rock got his own HBO special — thanks to former HBO president Carolyn Strauss, who saw his 20-minute set and decided to give him a 1-hour show — he failed miserably as a comic on Saturday Night Live. He was a cast member on the network series for three seasons from 1990 to 1993.
Rock appeared on the legendary sketch comedy show as a recurring cast member 12 years after Eddie Murphy. Rock comments on the unfair comparison between him and the 80s superstar, "I was essentially the Black guy after Eddie Murphy. It made people watch me with those glasses. And no one is passing the test of being compared to Eddie Murphy." Conan O'Brien, a writer for SNL at the time, also shared in the documentary that white comedians never received that kind of association with their white peers.
"Rock was expected to meet the expectation of perfecting 9 characters that defined a generation," says O' Brien on the specific comparisons made between Rock and Murphy.
O'Brien adds, "When Adam Sandler shows up, or Spade or Schneider shows up, no one was expecting them to be the next Ackroyd or the next Murray. They were allowed to be their own person." White female comics aren't even compared this way. Jan Hooks was never compared to Gilda Radner, nor was Tina Fey compared to Jane Curtin. Bring The Pain touches on something that, whether intentional or not, has always been there. Namely, that African-Americans are always lumped in and compared with other African-Americans as if we're a monolith. It goes back to the Black people v. N****s routine; one community is inevitably expected to represent the other.
To add insult to injury, during the same time Rock was a featured cast member on SNL, Keenan Ivory Wayans' In Living Color, one of the most successful black sketch-comedy shows of all time, mocked Rock for being benched, which frustrated him immensely. After this, Rock expressed his disdain to Lorne Michaels and was cut from the show.
Rock experienced yet another failure when he was upstaged on his own show by Def Comedy Jam host Martin Lawrence. When Rock heard silence after he followed Lawrence's act, he knew that he had to change the way he approached his comedy. It was the experience of seeing Lawrence's animated on-stage persona and engagement with the crowd that led Rock to change how he executed his own brand of comedy. This is when Rock really built his craft, studying preachers and mimicking their cadence. This led to the loud and whiny voice that we've come to love and the wild mannerisms we see in his bits to this day.
Rock's legacy in the entertainment industry is remarkable, and the documentary Chris Rock's "Bring The Pain" boldly depicts a man who came from humble beginnings and experienced his fair share of failure. Rock was a trail-blazer the moment he completed his first one-hour special and didn't even realize it. The moment comedian Andrew Dice Clay received news that Rock would be getting his own HBO special, he had to convince Rock that this moment will change his life forever.
Ultimately, it's Chris Rock's humility and innocence that's so gut-wrenching in this documentary. Instead of becoming a victim to defeat, he learned from it and used failure — and perhaps his own pain — to become one of the greatest comedians of our generation. His HBO performance ultimately changed his comedy, faith, career, fame, fortune, and life. Chris Rock transformed the pain into power and is now one of the most illustrious comedians of our generation.
Rating: ⚡⚡⚡⚡
Chris Rock's "Bring The Pain" airs on A&E Monday, Oct 15th at 10PM ET/PT.
Variety
POPULAR NEWS
