Jenny Slate Is Nobody’s Clown

Jenny Slate is one of today’s most frenetic stand-ups. She begins her latest special, Seasoned Professional (Feb. 23 on Prime Video), like a bottle rocket, eventually sending her mic stand flying with wild gesticulation and delivering a primal scream of love for her therapist. Offstage, Slate seems downright Zen and reflective about a still-young career. “I want to act forever, to keep generating new material,” she says over Zoom in early February. “But that ‘hitting some quota to make sure people know I’m here’ kind of ambition … that’s burned away. What remains is a steady sense of who I am and an excitement about the skill set I’ve developed.” 

That skill set is diverse. After a season on Saturday Night Live in 2009, Slate fronted the breakout dramedy Obvious Child, appeared in an eclectic string of features (Joshy, Venom, Everything Everywhere All at Once), stole scenes on Parks & Recreation and logged dozens of voice roles — most notably her co-creation, Marcel the Shell With Shoes On. But what evades the married mother of one, who now splits her time between California and Massachusetts, is her dream gig: an emotionally meaty horror movie.

It seems like there’s an expectation for stand-ups to deliver specials at a fairly regular pace these days. Do you feel that pressure?

Thank God I don’t. The pressure that I feel arrived for me around fourth grade and continues on — and I’m 41 — and that’s just, “Will they like me?” It’s not really up to me, is it? I try my best and hope that the audience understands that I want to be with them. This show is what I have to offer. It’s my weird dowry.

You’ve spoken in the past about your stage fright. Does that ever get in between you and opportunities like your latest special?

One of the best things about filming a special is this feeling that comes after. It’s like, “Phew, I won’t have to take an exam for a while!” It would be sad for me to say, “I’ll never do stand-up again.” It doesn’t feel realistic. But I am increasingly interested in other ways that I could be funny onstage that don’t involve the tightrope of stand-up. It’s really weird to be afraid of the audience because it’s not about the audience. It’s about my wobbly grasp on my own sense of power — whether I can drive this vehicle that is me onto that stage.

In this set, you joke about being approached to audition for Pennywise, the demonic clown in the It movies — but you were also genuinely offended by that. You even hired new agents. What was the conversation like with your former reps when this idea was floated?

I don’t remember a conversation. I remember getting the email, and I was embarrassed! And, as the years went by, I felt angry. The people who represent you shouldn’t just be pushing you along. They should be encouraging you and considering you specifically. Maybe it was a careless mistake? But it wasn’t even an offer! (Laughs.) That’s what’s so sad. It would’ve been cool if they were like, “We have a fully formed vision and it’s you!” What I assumed they were thinking was, “Let’s see if this idiot bites.”

You’ve forged a pretty diverse résumé, but are there parts you still feel like you’re not offered?

I really would like to be in a scary movie with deep emotional resonance. I love Ellen Burstyn in The Exorcist. It’s such a specific choice that she’s a single mom, who’s also an actor living on location. That is probably not the center of the movie for the people who made it, but I’ve put so much pressure on myself — worrying that I’m going to damage my child if I move her around. Then you watch The Exorcist and she literally has the devil inside of her because her mom is on a location shoot! Damn. That’s very real for me. But could somebody let me do that? It may sound degrading like that: Can somebody let me? 

Even if it’s degrading, it’s kind of just how it is.

Yeah, I’m not interested in writing that for myself — so somebody else would have to. One of the things I like about being an actor is being asked. And one of the things I like about being a stand-up is bringing something that nobody asked for. 

There’s a lot of, for lack of a better term, potty humor in the special. From one 41-year-old to another, why are we still amused by that stuff?

This is one of my husband’s central questions about me. Like many, we love watching Slow Horses. He’ll lose track of the plot because I laugh so hard when Gary Oldman farts. It’s my favorite show because Gary Oldman farts! I’m not trying to be gross, but I have a fascination with the unmistakable humiliation that comes with one’s body being out of control. 

Going way back, dropping that F-bomb during your first episode of Saturday Night Live really lingered in the culture. Did you realize, in that moment, there would be such a strong reaction?

I don’t even remember saying it. In the moment, it seemed impossible that it would follow me. But I had this terrible towering feeling of, “I do not understand what is about to happen.” And it was a tidal wave. I have no context for the experience, but I want to answer the question because you asked it.

Being asked a question isn’t reason enough to answer it. We don’t have to talk about it.

I guess you’re right. My nightmare is that somebody that I worked with back then sees this and thinks that I brought it up or that I care about it still. I care about myself. And when I look back on my 26-year-old self, I feel so bad for her — for how scared she was. And I don’t respect the point of view that says it’s a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal. I guess I really like the opportunity to take the space of where assumption might live and fill it with truth. Before, I would never be able to firmly say, “I don’t care.” Now, especially being a mom, there’s no place for shame.

In 2020, you stepped down from voicing Missy, a biracial character on Big Mouth, and were replaced by Ayo Edebiri. Obviously, it was the right choice. But after working on that character for four seasons, were you sad to let it go?

What was hard was that feeling one gets when they realize they have done something that they regret — encountering something that you need to take responsibility for. To say, “Oh, shit, I need to make this right,” that is hard. And how do you make something right without drawing attention to yourself? 

When you discuss career strategy with your current team, who are the kinds of filmmakers you want to work with? 

Sarah Polley, Jordan Peele, Nicole Holofcener, Janicza Bravo … Maybe the Coen brothers can get back together for me? (Laughs.) And Greta Gerwig. I know it’s stupid. 

How is that stupid?

It’s just obvious. But Barbie meant so much to me. I’ve never met Greta, so I started to write a bunch of different thank-you letters to her. With all of the risk aversion now, and everyone just trying to figure out “the algorithm,” there are still people making work that feels like a lighthouse in the middle of a very treacherous sea. I’m in the boat, and I’m just like, “I saw your light, and I’m so glad you’re there.” 

Did you send any of those notes?

No, I was embarrassed. I should write a letter to her to just say, “Hi, I love you! If you ever have a part for me, I will show up and give you every single thing that I’ve got.” (Laughs.) But sending a thank-you letter might come off as making a move. I genuinely gag at that. Maybe, if I see her one day, I’ll just tell her.

This story first appeared in the Feb. 14 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.