As host Hannah Gadsby explains at the beginning of this stand-up showcase, Netflix only really gave her and these other queer comedians this special after Gadsby sent a strongly worded message to the streaming service first. So as expected from a move that feels more like a business decision than a sincere gesture, Hannah Gadsby’s Gender Agenda doesn’t dive too deeply into trans rights or totally reignite the conversation surrounding the issue. It does, however, give us generally consistent laughs over the course of its 75 minutes, from seven comics with very distinct personalities and perspectives.
No comedy showcase is perfectly coherent, and Gender Agenda definitely has its share of awkward moments. But even in its weaker moments, there’s still something refreshing about watching these queer comics simply exist as themselves, separate from all the cartoonish vitriol that transphobic comedians have for them on the same type of stage. And while these seven comedians center their routines on their respective identities, they’re never obnoxious or angry (like those other comedians may want you to believe). There’s a generosity in how they educate and deconstruct things for the audience, and a self-awareness of the conflicts that continue to exist around them—which they still look at with good humor.
As host Hannah Gadsby explains at the beginning of this stand-up showcase, Netflix only really gave her and these other queer comedians this special after Gadsby sent a strongly worded message to the streaming service first. So as expected from a move that feels more like a business decision than a sincere gesture, Hannah Gadsby’s Gender Agenda doesn’t dive too deeply into trans rights or totally reignite the conversation surrounding the issue. It does, however, give us generally consistent laughs over the course of its 75 minutes, from seven comics with very distinct personalities and perspectives.
No comedy showcase is perfectly coherent, and Gender Agenda definitely has its share of awkward moments. But even in its weaker moments, there’s still something refreshing about watching these queer comics simply exist as themselves, separate from all the cartoonish vitriol that transphobic comedians have for them on the same type of stage. And while these seven comedians center their routines on their respective identities, they’re never obnoxious or angry (like those other comedians may want you to believe). There’s a generosity in how they educate and deconstruct things for the audience, and a self-awareness of the conflicts that continue to exist around them—which they still look at with good humor.