Patton Oswalt still finds humor in his success

It’s perhaps telling that the funniest bit in Patton Oswalt’s new hour-long special, Tragedy Plus Comedy Equals Time, is a long story about performing comedy to a bunch of drunken casino-goers for an obscene sum of money. That’s not intended as a criticism, really—more an observation on how stand-up comedy becomes more introspective as a comedian’s career goes on. There are plenty of solid bits in Tragedy Plus Comedy Equals Time, and Oswalt is a stand-up comedian at his peak, who can command an audience’s total attention even when working with quieter energy or telling longer stories punctuated by fewer jokes. But his best story is about him realizing that at this point in his career, he barely needs to do anything at all to make money and be a huge hit with a crowd.
Oswalt was just on an episode of Jerry Seinfeld’s Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee, shooting the shit about hipsterism and Superman and the like with one of the grand old men of stand-up. Seinfeld always comes off as a remarkably grounded man for someone who has essentially made millions of dollars from being funny, but there’s certainly something lost from a stand-up act when that happens—it’s unavoidable. Oswalt is no billionaire, but he’s been an A-List comedian for more than a decade now, and himself acknowledges that his own edges are softening and his righteous anger cooling in his newest hour, developed largely within Southern California (he sought not to travel by plane while working out the hour) and shot last year in San Diego by Epix—a network that is making a major push to host more and more significant stand-up specials, filling a void left largely by HBO.
Oswalt’s earlier albums featured epic, blistering rants, unforgettably searing but still brutally hilarious. There’d be so many one-liners and dazzlingly clever turns of phrase within a furious diatribe, one wouldn’t be able to figure out what was so funny until the second or third listen. While he has not produced material quite at the pace of Louis C.K., he’s been close, giving us a new special about once every two years. Much like C.K., we’ve watched him mature over the years—Oswalt’s happily married with a kid, doing wonderfully for himself in his chosen profession, and hell, even George W. Bush isn’t there to kick around anymore. It’s no surprise that Oswalt doesn’t let fire the way he used to.