Comic “Deadpan Jan” Gudaitis lives up to her name by taking the stage with almost zero enthusiasm or emotional expression. Her self-proclaimed motto is “better living through delusional thinking,” and her stand-up delivery seems to suck the energy out of the room like a Skeksis draining a Gelfling.
With impressively persistent commitment to her maddeningly monotone delivery, she soldiers through an increasingly obscene and misanthropic monologue, made up of marijuana musings and gross-out groaners involving Covid quarantine, hip-replacement surgery and becoming sexually literate (aka “cliterate”).
Between her shaggy-dog stories and spousicidal fantasies, Jan presents her affectless Asperger's-ian stage persona — which could be authentic, or an elaborate gag? — in the tradition of anti-comics like Emo Phillips and Steven Wright, creating a cultish “love it or hate it” experience that will leave few viewers feeling neutral. In an early bit, Jan confesses that she does her best comedic work when she’s high on opioids. Perhaps she should pass out Quaaludes to her patrons, so we can all be on her flattened wavelength.
Deadpan Jan: My Life Is Not a Sex Party, or Is It?
Jan Gudaitis Comedy
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