At this month's Cannes Film Festival, Francis Ford Coppola and Kevin Costner unveiled passion projects that they chose to finance themselves after initially abandoning institutional sponsors. This week, three authors are trend-setters, except instead of pouring their own funds into a radical, deeply personal epic, comedian Shane Gillis has made a raunchy, workplace bro-comedy set in a Pennsylvania tire store .
Since being fired from “Saturday Night Live” before it even started for offensive jokes on his podcast, Gillis has become the poster child for a grassroots, decentralized attention economy that allows some performers to build thriving careers without the blessings of the guardians. Their 2021 special “Live in Austin” blew up on YouTube; the same podcast that cost him “SNL,” co-hosted with his comedic partner Matt McCusker, continues apace; Gillis even produced his own comedy series, “Gilly and Keeves,” culminating in a feature-length special last year. Gillis has strived to accomplish all this without capitalizing on complaints about so-called cancel culture, a profitable and predictable path for other would-be provocateurs. After all, with his recent success, Gillis doesn't have much to be angry about.
Creators: Steve Gerben, Shane Gillis, John McKeever
Stars: Shane Gillis, Steve Gerben, Chris O'Connor
Recently, Gillis has also begun to gradually re-enter the mainstream, a process that will apparently benefit his patrons as much as himself, if not more. (Gillis is now simply too big to be ignored by burgeoning and/or aging platforms that could really use his devoted fan base.) Netflix released Gillis' second special, “Beautiful Dogs,” last fall; he starred in “Bupkis,” Pete Davidson’s now-self-dismissed autobiographical comedy for Peacock; “Saturday Night Live” invited him back to host a few months later, a highly publicized and ultimately anticlimactic affair in which Gillis refused to make more than a passing mention of his fraught history with the show, much less gloat. of his triumphant return. Gillis' cultural imprint still pales in comparison to his actual audience, but the asymmetry is no longer as extreme as it once was.
“Tires” traces the evolutionary arc of Gillis’ career. The comedy began, in 2019, as a pilot on Gillis' YouTube channel. (The original video was removed before the Netflix premiere). Several years and a large amount of income later, Gillis invested in filming an entire six-episode season, which Netflix later acquired along with an upcoming stand-up special. The result clumsily combines Gillis's DIY ethos and larger aspirations, a conspicuously stripped-down production distributed by the world's largest streaming service. Pithy, crass and sporadically funny, “Tires” seems unlikely to propel Gillis into a new echelon of establishment acclaim. Rather, it's a snapshot of the crossroads the co-creator, co-writer and star finds himself at: no longer the center (first by necessity, then by choice) of a self-sustaining ecosystem; He is still not a star accepted by tastemakers or more casual fans.
The configuration of “Tires” recalls a version of “The Bear” stripped of racial diversity and any hint of romanticism. Two cousins, hapless manager Will (co-creator Steven Gerben) and cheerful firebrand Shane (Gillis), struggle to keep the family business afloat. Trusted by his father, a looming presence off-screen with the location of his local chain of Valley Forge auto shops, Will executes a succession of harebrained schemes designed to increase sales. Like Gillis's stage act, “Tires” indulges in the brotherly, puerile humor of bored young people while also making her the butt of the joke. The season opens with Will launching an embarrassing initiative meant to empower female clients: "You're going, girl!" – and ends with Shane forcing him to host a car wash in a bikini.
“Tires” keeps Gillis's old team of collaborators intact. “Gilly and Keeves” partner John McKeever, credited solely with his last name, directs all six episodes and is Gerben and Gillis’ third co-creator. The cast remains unchanged from the original pilot, casting Philadelphia comedy scene veterans Chris O'Connor and Kilah Fox as Will and Shane's co-workers. Besides Gillis, the best-known series regular is probably Stavros Halkias, who plays district manager Dave and rose to fame on the now-defunct Cum Town podcast.
In both location and length (or rather, the lack of either), “Tires” shows its original roots. Gillis's pockets may be deep, but it's still clear that less than two hours of total material that took place in a handful of theaters didn't emerge from Netflix's level of resources, even if that's where viewers can find the finished product. . The style isn't entirely mockumentary, but McKeever prefers handheld camerawork and close-ups that (accurately) invoke the wince factor of early episodes of "The Office." The stakes are microscopic: Will's big idea, which could save the business, is to offer a discount on tires to upsell customers on other services after they've accepted the lower price. The melancholy piano theme hints at a sentimentality that is largely non-existent and, in fact, fails when it arrives. We're here to watch these people dunk each other, not because we care how many brake pads they need to move until Will's dad approves.
“Tires” is most enjoyable when it features what it was evidently built around: Gillis' smiling, compelling performance as a former Rust Belt jock who never performed as well as his performer did. Unlike many comedians when put in charge of their own scripted shows, Gillis is smart enough not to present himself as the straight man, instead leaving that role to Gerber while he has his fun.
It's Shane who argues with Dave while sitting on the bathroom, spreads a rumor that Will taught a parrot to say the N-word, and poachs the graphic designer Will hired at TaskRabbit to draw a bunch of big-breasted girls. . We're not supposed to approve of everything Shane says or does, but even inside the store, he gets away with saying what others can't out of sheer charm and confidence. No one cares that I call Italian mechanics “wops.” When Will does it, it's a problem.
But when he refracts through an ensemble and a fictional narrative, Gillis can't be as precise in toying the line between offensive and insightful as he is on stage. Gillis's classic joke deploys his goofy energy (his favorite filler word is “dude”) to play with the audience's expectations of his beliefs. (He opens “Beautiful Dogs” by turning an applause line about American exceptionalism into a bit about mass shootings.) “Tires” is less slick and more direct. In any case, the blink-and-you're-gone season is an audition for a second round of episodes funded by Netflix, and sure enough, the company announced a renewal before the first one even aired. Perhaps an extended series could develop the beats of a long-running sitcom, be more inventive in its risk-taking, and more fully differentiate the characters beyond Shane and Will. For now, “Tires” is a step forward, but not complete.
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