Chris Fleming: Hell

The ultimate contradiction about Chris Fleming is that at its core, his comedy is about pretty universal feelings. Am I doing this right? Is everyone judging me? Am I wrong for thinking this is weird? Fleming is able to take these feelings and manifest them into something truly original and interesting, and something that I can confidently say is truly one of a kind.

The skill required to produce an hour of work that feels off-the-cuff is tremendous. HELL is like watching the victory lap of a comic who has worked hard to find his lane.

Fleming shares with the audience a photo of his family, with him as a child, the youngest of the flock, the only one staring into the camera. At points during the special, he's also well of where the stage cameras are. This comedian is ready for his close up.

A certain amount of the ticklish pleasure of his work comes from the twin engines of surprise and disbelief, and after a while, Fleming has to find devices that shift those engines into gear again. Hell manages this fairly well by dipping in and out of songs, some pretaped sketches, and stretches that are closer to garden-variety stand-up. But inevitably, Hell has moments where it slips a little. It never fully loses its grip, but the inclusion of a crowd-work moment that goes on for too long starts to feel unnecessary.