From the first line, the first shot, the difference is so stark. From Carmichael’s body language to the intimate directing of Burnham, it’s enthralling. Carmichael has found his groove. The glistening of his eyes, the shifting of his facial expressions… there’s an ennui and dread to this whole special. This is his confessional, his search for an absolution he knows he won’t find. At least not here, not yet. The knowledge we have now lends a lot of context to the general sadness and dissatisfaction Carmichael feels, and it makes his observations as pitiable as they are funny and sharp.

And they are funny, to be clear. He’s far better at his craft here, and some lines absolutely killed me. But it’s that listless desperation and defeated resignation that stick with me most. The ending, abrupt and oddly affecting, stands out. He’s trying to talk through who he is, and the special knows what he says next isn’t as important as the fact that he’ll keep saying it and keep coming up short.