Review: Jerry Seinfeld brings grouchy comedy to Oakland’s Spark Arena

He starts by complaining about phones, and how he doesn’t like people showing him their phones, or the condition of their phones. Then comes the news, or TV news, because it’s not “new” enough. Then comes artificial BroadCast Unitedligence, because it makes humans stupider. Then comes streaming, because it makes people have no choice, because what the hell was wrong with TV before? So far, it’s pretty old-fashioned, despite the occasional flash.

Things get interesting during some lengthy exposition about vacations, in which he displays a cantankerous histrionic personality. The best lines come when he’s self-aware: “I don’t know where I was. As you can imagine, it was some fancy place.” He’s known to everyone as what Bloomberg calls “the last of the TV billionaires”; this makes his efforts to be relatable — like jokes about people talking about TV shows at work (Jerry, what office is this?) — ring hollow.

He works better when his inauthentic presence is the focus. One of the best jokes in the opening act, Mario Joyner, is when he looks longingly at a water display on a very spartan stage. “That’s Jerry’s water, I can’t touch it,” he jokes, then checks his watch. “He doesn’t like it when you go too far — he’ll take your money.” Seinfeld himself acknowledges this, talking about the state of all the new furniture in his house, which he has learned never to comment on.

The big comedy business is a weird one — three of its biggest stars, all of whom created iconic and still-brilliant shows in the 90s and 00s, seem to find the passage of time and changing values ​​so irritating that they can’t resist clumsy, unsubtle commentary. Ricky Gervais and Dave Chappelle’s focus on transgender issues has been the dullest part of their shows lately, while Seinfeld spoke wistfully of missing “Male Dominance” and “far left and political correctness bullshit and people being too worried about offending people.”

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He has also been vocal in his support for Israel and Jews since the October 7 massacre and the subsequent Gaza war, visiting Israel in December to show solidarity. Unlike previous shows in the US and Australia, this one was not interrupted by pro-Palestinian protesters (although they were outside, holding custom Zionist leaflets), but the tension and possibility were still there. At other shows, he has responded to people taunting him, calling their protests anti-Semitic.

As a 70-year-old Jew born less than a decade after the atrocities of World War II ended, it’s not surprising that his stance on Israel differs from that of many young progressives, both Jewish and non-Jewish.

In the Room, that background and his recent tendency toward anti-politically correct views become less and less present in the material, especially as the show progresses. There’s a funny, candid riff asking why Frankenstein wears a sport coat, which really flies during a long passage written from the horse’s point of view, pointing out how rude it is to ride them in an SUV and wondering why we continue to measure by horsepower only to make them look weak.

This is a gentle observational piece, much like a comedy club piece show Seinfeld On a recent rewatch, I was struck by how little the show actually offends contemporary mores, which is surprising given the number of episodes and the time period in which it was written. This suggests that his criticisms of the limits of modern comedy may be somewhat exaggerated – perhaps he’s not trying as hard now as he once did.

When he tries, he still does it pretty well. The last third of the show is the hour’s best material. It’s based on what he really knows – the experience of being a husband and a father, a little later than most. Some truths are universal, no matter how rich you are. He doesn’t like the way parenting is done now – “When did we get so into this?” – and describes in detail every night what sound like his children’s mini-wedding ceremonies. Most parents can relate. He expresses displeasure that his kids no longer throw low-lying balls in bowling games – which is fair.

These are complaints about how the world has changed, but they are set in the arena of legitimate debate and are not directed at anyone in particular, except for a culture with which he admits to being complicit. This is more effective, as is his admission that a large part of his happiness now comes from complaining. “I’m a very happy person who has spent my whole life hating everything I do,” he says.

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This self-deprecation is a better stance for him than just ranting about the mundane aspects of modern life, which he doesn’t seem particularly interested in. Cultural reference points include Shelly Duvall, Titanic, friends And an extended section about a cemetery. Maybe that’s what this play is really about. A once-global comedian realising his time has passed. Ironically, the best part of this incomplete but still very funny play is his return to his earlier, more innocent attitude.

He jokes about jet skis and sun hats (“Please keep your hat on!”) and describes his relationship. Close your eyes and it’s 1995. Then he trudges off the stage and it’s 2024, with something new to complain about.