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Amy Poehler might just be the most beloved figure in Hollywood. Her most recent venture, the immensely popular podcast “Good Hang with Amy Poehler,” certainly reinforces that view. This is potentially her largest platform since the celebrated show “Parks and Recreation,” where she portrayed the principled civil servant Leslie Knope, concluded its run a decade prior. While many of her former co-stars have explored different avenues—Aziz Ansari by reinventing himself as a pensive romantic in “Master of None,” Adam Scott by showcasing his acting range as a man struggling within himself in “Severance”—Poehler has embraced Leslie’s essence: cheerfulness, sincerity, a dedication to female bonding, and straightforward feminist ideals. These traits are abundantly present in “Good Hang,” which debuted in March and quickly ascended to the top of the rankings, even within a heavily populated field. It even surpassed “The Joe Rogan Experience” at one point, becoming the top show on Spotify.
Like “Rogan,” “Good Hang” is a video podcast; each week, Poehler is seated across a light-colored wooden table from one or two celebrities. The relaxed closeness of her interactions with well-known friends is a major factor in the show’s allure. She uses endearing names for her longtime companions: Tina Fey is “Betty,” Kathryn Hahn is “Hahnsy,” Rashida Jones is “Bones.” At times, she holds a guest’s hand. It’s obvious that “Good Hang” is carefully managed, but the long-standing relationships between Poehler and many of her guests make the discussions feel genuine—and capable of producing genuinely touching moments. After Aubrey Plaza’s husband passed away by suicide, she publicly discussed the loss for the first time on the podcast. Plaza, who has known Poehler for almost her entire career, set aside her typical dark persona and spoke honestly about the “giant ocean of awfulness” of widowhood. Andy Samberg, as well, was open about his sorrow following the passing of his “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” colleague Andre Braugher. Poehler is so effective at putting people at ease, in fact, that several interviewees—Seth Meyers, the “Broad City” creators Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson—have been moved to tears while articulating how much her support has meant to them.
Aside from such emotionally charged instances, Poehler intentionally maintains a lighthearted atmosphere, and the show’s aesthetic reflects her desire to create a comfortable environment for her guests. The studio is furnished with inviting, millennial-inspired elements: artificial plants, neon signs, pastel hues. It resembles the sort of modern office space where employees are encouraged to bring their pets—even though Poehler, who believes that “rules are what make things fun,” is firmly opposed to animals in the workplace. (Dakota Johnson and Plaza disregarded this rule and brought theirs anyway.)
Poehler appears to have taken inspiration from viewers rediscovering “Parks and Rec” as a source of comfort during the pandemic—a point she mentions repeatedly—and the connection between the series and the podcast is quite apparent. “Parks” was a workplace comedy characterized by its faith in people’s potential for development, and on “Good Hang,” stars typically reminisce about their early—and therefore most relatable—experiences. There are frequent, albeit predictable, tributes to female camaraderie, reminiscent of Galentine’s Day, the holiday that Leslie created to honor the women in her life, and each installment begins with Poehler calling a guest’s relatives to “talk well” about them behind their back. While the ostensible purpose is to help her formulate questions, it primarily provides an opportunity to lavish praise upon the individual being interviewed. (Jeremy O. Harris on Natasha Lyonne: “This, like, wild intelligence and wild generosity combined into this atomic bomb of the ideal friend.”) This constant flattery seems sincere—a variation of the overly specific, almost surreal praise that Leslie heaped upon her best friend, Ann. Yet, the relentlessly positive energy, akin to the exaggerated praise prevalent in Hollywood, can become irritating.
“Good Hang” acknowledges its own superficiality. In the debut episode, Poehler builds a feminist argument for her light approach: women, she asserts, are expected to be selfless, intelligent, and vocal about issues like menopause, whereas men—presumably the hosts of other celebrity-focused interview podcasts, such as “Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend,” Dax Shepherd’s “Armchair Expert,” and Will Arnett, Sean Hayes, and Jason Bateman’s “Smartless”—are lauded for simply engaging in casual conversation. Poehler isn’t a journalist, a fact that serves as both the show’s advantage and its drawback. Her industry connections and understanding can work to her benefit; the most compelling episodes feature like-minded individuals such as Quinta Brunson, with whom Poehler discusses, for example, the unfair pressure on female writers and performers to represent their communities in ways that are both realistic and inspiring. She also secures extended conversations with usually press-averse celebrities, including Fey and Kristen Wiig. However, unlike a reporter, she will avoid sensitive subjects with anyone who would prefer not to address them. (Lyonne appeared on the show shortly after a story about her generative-A.I. studio generated considerable criticism; Poehler, who regularly discusses new projects with her guests, makes no mention of the venture.)
Much has been said about how traditional late-night TV might soon be supplanted by podcasts and gimmick-driven shows such as “Hot Ones” and “Chicken Shop Date,” which have been praised for eliciting “authentic” responses from media-savvy celebrities. On Poehler’s show, however, there’s a noticeable distinction between the stars she already knows and those she doesn’t. Her “yes, and . . .” improvisational skill, honed over decades as a sketch comedian, makes her an adaptable conversationalist, but it isn’t always enough to engage actors who are simply fulfilling their promotional obligations. The mandated levity means some of these dialogues never move beyond polite pleasantries. I could happily live without ever hearing Poehler ask another guest about their sleep patterns, much less posing such questions to Michelle Obama.
Nevertheless, the hour-long duration of “Good Hang”—a marked contrast to the seven or eight minutes allocated to celebrities on a late-night talk show between commercial breaks—serves as a reminder that even top-tier celebrities require time to become comfortable. There’s a certain appeal to observing their ease. And if a secure, risk-free, stars-only zone is the only method of seeing them in a more natural state, that seems to be a compromise that millions are willing to accept. ♦
Sourse: newyorker.com
