On Friday night, Nathan Fielder fans and doubters alike were treated to the finale spectacle that was The Rehearsal, his six part HBO series that examined the human condition while disguising itself as a comedic documentary. I didn’t laugh once.

I’m not an easily shocked viewer of television, I think professional wrestling is the pinnacle of entertainment after all, but the culmination of his project and the consequences suffered by those around him was the exact kind of visceral viewing experience that left me silent during the credits. After six episodes, Nathan Fielder had pulled off a stunt that is still difficult to explain to anyone unfamiliar with his work, as his show documented a collection of actors and “real” people who agreed to rehearse life’s most difficult moments before they’ve even occurred. I finally had the answer to the question I’ve been pondering this whole time: Is Nathan Fielder picking up where Andy Kaufman left us?

The only comedy fans stranger and more neurotic than Fielder fans are those of us who admire the work of the great Andy Kaufman, and I have the double whammy of my hyper fixation on both. The ways in which Kaufman toyed with reality during the 70s and 80s were both revelatory and alienating to audiences, begging the constant question as to whether or not his schtick was even real. Kaufman’s name seems to be fading more with the passage of time and the mainstreaming of alternative comedy, and I’d recommend that anyone unfamiliar with his work consume as much as they can. It is foundational. When laughter is elicited more from a “bit” than a punchline, the influence of Kaufman makes itself known. 

To best understand the progression from a Kaufman era of alternative comedy to Nathan Fielder’s, definitions are important. “I am not a comic, I have never told a joke,” is one of the most famous quotes attributed to Kaufman, who preferred being called an entertainer instead of comedian. While Fielder has never outright denied his comedy, (His first show, Nathan For You, was a Comedy Central hit, after all) I have yet to find any interview or performance where he refers to himself through this lens. To call himself a comedian might break the illusion he’s spent the last decade cultivating. Our understanding (or lack thereof) of the work of both depends on the front facing characters they put on display.

Fans of both men call their delivery “deadpan,” but I’d argue that their gift is sincerity. Midway through this first season of The Rehearsal, critics went so far as to claim that Nathan Fielder’s work is unethical, with The New Yorker’s Richard Brody painting an image of a “cruel and arrogant” megalomaniac fixated on controlling the lives of others. Instead of realizing that participants in The Rehearsal do indeed have autonomy and could simply, you know, not participate in a reality TV show, rejecters of alternative comedy instead understand the social awkwardness of Fielder as sociopathy, when he’s at worst, an asshole. For others who struggle with the same kind of existential anxiety as Fielder, the type that makes socializing feel nearly impossible, he doesn’t come across as such a jerk.

What I saw was vulnerability with a healthy dose of mischief, as Fielder turns his least likable attributes into a gift for making participants in the show give us their most authentic selves. His lack of conversational skills causes whoever he is speaking with to try and fill that empty space and silence with their own words, and given the nature of The Rehearsal, most of these words are deeply personal. This culminated into something that I found grotesquely beautiful, but I can see how someone who hasn’t admitted their own vulnerabilities would find The Rehearsal to be inherently threatening. 

One of Kaufman’s most polarizing stunts occurred when instead of performing a stand up routine for an excited audience, he instead sat down on a chair, put on a fake British accent, and went on to read The Great Gatsby from cover to cover. While I find that act to be so wildly nasty to his audience that it demands respect, this was the first act of many that was met with extreme disdain. Kaufman’s own masterpiece on the level of The Rehearsal very well may be the professional wrestling career that cemented his genius as a performer, all because of a similar backlash.

Inspired by the same kind of kayfabe, the name for the faked reality that turns art weirdos like myself into raucous wrestling fans, Kaufman seized the momentum of his chaotic career, and with zero formal training, entered the professional wrestling circuit as a sexist villain. In a long series of matches that we now understand to be predetermined, his gimmick as a wrestler was to challenge exclusively women in these bouts, and used a snobby, Hollywood, woman-hating persona to draw vitriol from the crowd. And it’s for this reason that I’ve long argued that wrestling fans are the only types of people who can truly understand the point of Kaufman’s comedy. Is it real? Is it fake? Through the lens of wrestling, the answer to both is “yes.” Through a created version of himself, he forced audiences to interact with his art, an act of mass conversation. His habit of turning a mirror around on his audience to show them their own behavior backfired in 1983, when he was publicly ousted from Saturday Night Live via an audience vote. He died the year after, at the age of 35.

The similarities between Nathan Fielder and Andy Kaufman are obvious, but it’s the way that Fielder has picked up the ball and forced the evolution of “Kaufman-esque” comedy that solidifies his genius. Instead of performing for an audience as his own entity, The Rehearsal is an exercise where bystanders are dragged into this temporary reality as well. The audience isn’t limited to an auditorium, as we’re all participants in his circus, and the world is able to watch his plans unfold with the constant commentary of our social media presence. Now that the first season has ended, I think it’s appropriate to examine the ethics of what Fielder has done, but this is the boundary pushing that has caused us to have these conversations to begin with.

Kaufman’s brilliance didn’t stem from these harsh examinations of humanity, as his aim was to entertain and force us to play with our imaginations. Fielder simply uses the tools sharpened by the man who came before him to dig a little deeper and deeper still, until we are unsure as to who the butt of this grandiose joke is even supposed to be. I think both men might argue that it’s all of us, performer and viewer alike who are worth laughing at. This is why any backlash to The Rehearsal has been a mystery to me – what is the difference between the person who finds the concept appalling, and the person who says, “Wow, I can see myself in there?”

There’s a longstanding conspiracy theory that Andy Kaufman faked his own death, a legacy fit for a legendary prankster. His parting lesson before such an early death was that reality is not only subjective, it’s also a malleable concept that can be formed in one’s preferred image to make a point. He built this stage for himself, but it’s Nathan Fielder who pulls us into the spotlight to be shared. Instead of asking what Andy Kaufman would have done with a longer life, we can look at what those who have come after him and how they’ve interpreted their own realities. The Rehearsal does just that.

Recommend If You Like is not owned or funded by a billionaire or even a millionaire. We do have a Patreon. If you can’t afford to become a patron, please sign up to our mailing list. It’s free and we’re asking here instead of a pop-up. Pop-ups are annoying.