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Amy Poehler might just be the most beloved figure in Hollywood. Her recent undertaking, the wildly popular podcast “Good Hang with Amy Poehler,” certainly reinforces this sentiment. It represents arguably her largest platform since the acclaimed show “Parks and Recreation,” where she embodied the eager civil servant Leslie Knope, concluded its run a decade prior. And while many of her past colleagues have ventured into different areas—Aziz Ansari by reimagining himself as a somber romantic figure in “Master of None,” Adam Scott by showcasing his acting prowess as a conflicted individual in “Severance”—Poehler has gravitated towards Leslie’s essence: cheerfulness, sincerity, an emphasis on women’s bonds and straightforward feminist principles. Such attributes are distinctly present in “Good Hang,” which debuted in March and quickly ascended to the top ranks even amidst a heavily crowded marketplace. At one juncture, it supplanted “The Joe Rogan Experience” as the foremost program on Spotify.
“Good Hang,” akin to “Rogan,” is a video-based podcast; each week, Poehler sits across a light-wood table from one or two well-known figures. The relaxed closeness of her interactions with celebrated companions is an undeniable factor in the show’s draw. She employs pet names for her longtime friends: Tina Fey is “Betty,” Kathryn Hahn is “Hahnsy,” Rashida Jones is “Bones.” At times, she grasps a guest’s hand. There’s little question that “Good Hang” is planned, yet the shared background between Poehler and many of her subjects aids in making the discussions feel authentic—and can produce genuinely moving exchanges. After Aubrey Plaza’s spouse passed away by suicide, she spoke openly regarding the sorrow for the initial time through the podcast. Plaza, who has been acquainted with Poehler for essentially her whole career, shed her typical mysterious facade and spoke frankly regarding the “vast ocean of dreadfulness” of being a widow. Andy Samberg, too, was candid regarding his sadness in the wake of the demise of his “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” fellow performer Andre Braugher. Poehler is so calming, actually, that numerous interviewees—Seth Meyers, the “Broad City” originators Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson—have gotten emotional while articulating what her backing has signified to them.
Leaving such emotional instances aside, Poehler maintains the atmosphere light on purpose, and the aesthetic of the program mirrors her intention to put her guests at ease. The studio is adorned with comfortable, millennial-influenced details: artificial plants, illuminated words, soft hues. It resembles the sort of startup setting where workers are invited to bring their canines—even if Poehler, who believes that “regulations are what render things enjoyable,” is firmly opposed to pets in the workspace. (Dakota Johnson and Plaza brought theirs regardless.)
Poehler seems to have been inspired by viewers rediscovering “Parks and Rec” as a soothing source during the pandemic—an occurrence she mentions on several occasions—and it’s simple to observe the link between the show and the podcast. “Parks” was an office-based comedy defined by its faith in people’s potential for development, and on “Good Hang,” celebrities tend to reflect on their early—and therefore most relatable—experiences. There are constant, though commonplace, tributes to female unity, echoing Galentine’s Day, the celebration that Leslie conceived to honor the women in her life, and each segment commences with Poehler contacting a guest’s family to “speak highly” of them behind their back. Supposedly, the activity is about assisting her in developing queries; mainly, it’s an opportunity to gush regarding the woman or man being featured. (Jeremy O. Harris on Natasha Lyonne: “This, like, untamed intelligence and untamed generosity joined into this atomic bomb of the ideal friend.”) All this praise seems sincere—a version of the incredibly precise, almost-surreal adulation that Leslie lavished on her best friend, Ann. But the constantly upbeat energy, akin to the amplified flattery culture of Hollywood in general, starts to become tiring.
“Good Hang” is mindful of its own superficiality. In the opening episode, Poehler argues a feminist case for her levity: women, she states, are anticipated to be unselfish and knowledgeable and speak out regarding issues such as 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 chatting casually. Poehler isn’t a reporter, and that reality is both the program’s asset and its drawback. Her industry connections and insights can be to her advantage; the most engaging episodes feature kindred spirits such as Quinta Brunson, with whom Poehler examines, for example, the unjust demand on female writers and performers to represent their communities in ways that are both realistic and ambitious. She also secures lengthy conversations with typically press-shy stars, including Fey and Kristen Wiig. However, dissimilar to a journalist, she’ll steer clear of delicate subjects with someone who’d prefer to avoid them. (Lyonne appeared on the program a few weeks following a narrative regarding her generative-A.I. studio that sparked considerable criticism; Poehler, who habitually speaks with guests regarding new endeavors, doesn’t mention the undertaking.)
Much has been composed regarding how conventional late-night TV may soon be superseded by podcasts and concept-driven shows like “Hot Ones” and “Chicken Shop Date,” which have been applauded for eliciting “genuine” reactions from media-savvy celebrities. On Poehler’s program, however, there’s an apparent distinction between the stars she already is acquainted with and those she isn’t. Her “yes, and . . .” willingness to participate, perfected through decades as a sketch comic, renders her a versatile conversationalist, yet it isn’t invariably adequate to elicit actors who are merely fulfilling promotional obligations. The compelled lightheartedness signifies that certain of these discussions never advance past amiable chitchat. I could live the remainder of my existence without listening to Poehler inquire another guest regarding their sleep patterns, let alone posing such questions to Michelle Obama.
Nonetheless, the hour-long format of “Good Hang”—a sharp contrast to the seven or eight minutes allocated to celebrities on a late-night sofa amid commercial interruptions—provides a reminder that even top-tier stars require time to become transparent. There’s something reassuring regarding the spectacle of their ease. And if a secure, stars-exclusive environment is the only avenue to glimpse them in a more authentic manner, that appears to be an exchange that millions are prepared to undertake. ♦
Sourse: newyorker.com