"I've got the body of a Gryffindor, but a Hufflepuff soul." Gary Gulman couldn't have described himself any better: at six-foot-six, he is the definition of a gentle giant. Self-identifying as insecure yet able to confidently close strong despite a technical difficulty right in the crucial turning point of his final story, Gulman has the spirit of Ron Weasley: he might not seem like a bold man, but he's actually brilliantly brave when it matters.
Taylor Tomlinson's opening set gave Gulman's show a fitting and fantastic start. Her bit about needing to hurt her happy, innocent boyfriend so he'd become more interesting was grim, feisty and relatable all at the same time. Similarly, her story about her parents warning her about kidnappers and then telling her to walk home alone from school whenever they wanted to punish her set a great base for Gulman's darkly funny act.
Gulman's hour primarily focused on two separate topics: millennials and depression. Gulman's joy about the kindness of millennials was oddly refreshing given that most comedians love to trash-talk that demographic, plus his ominous observation that the name Generation Z implies that there will be no more generations to follow was morbidly wonderful.
On the other hand, Gulman's material about depression was more heartfelt, but just as amusing. His observations about being a beta male with an NFL player's body and having negligent, strange habits due to his depression were as spot-on as they were funny. Additionally, he provided a few heart-wrenching moments as he frankly described what he was like while he was in the psych ward.
On a completely different note, Gulman also had some hilariously petty stances on russet potatoes and mayonnaise, but ultimately his quintessential anxious nature provided the most memorable moment of the night. When someone in the audience briefly left the theatre while he was talking about his mental health, Gulman had the perfect off-the-cuff response: "Cool, just leave while I'm in my most vulnerable moment of the whole show!"
Taylor Tomlinson's opening set gave Gulman's show a fitting and fantastic start. Her bit about needing to hurt her happy, innocent boyfriend so he'd become more interesting was grim, feisty and relatable all at the same time. Similarly, her story about her parents warning her about kidnappers and then telling her to walk home alone from school whenever they wanted to punish her set a great base for Gulman's darkly funny act.
Gulman's hour primarily focused on two separate topics: millennials and depression. Gulman's joy about the kindness of millennials was oddly refreshing given that most comedians love to trash-talk that demographic, plus his ominous observation that the name Generation Z implies that there will be no more generations to follow was morbidly wonderful.
On the other hand, Gulman's material about depression was more heartfelt, but just as amusing. His observations about being a beta male with an NFL player's body and having negligent, strange habits due to his depression were as spot-on as they were funny. Additionally, he provided a few heart-wrenching moments as he frankly described what he was like while he was in the psych ward.
On a completely different note, Gulman also had some hilariously petty stances on russet potatoes and mayonnaise, but ultimately his quintessential anxious nature provided the most memorable moment of the night. When someone in the audience briefly left the theatre while he was talking about his mental health, Gulman had the perfect off-the-cuff response: "Cool, just leave while I'm in my most vulnerable moment of the whole show!"
