The Roastmaster General was a softy, but who knew that?
However, the surprisingly disarming Take a Banana for the Ride exposes comedian Jeff Ross to be a delicious sentimental blob. It can happen to you when you reach a particular age and experience the losses that come with it. A cancer scare can do the same.
With his brutal Comedy Central roasts of Roseanne Barr, William Shatner, Justin Bieber, and even Donald Trump (that one is worth rewatching), Ross made a fortune. Tom Brady’s obviously emotional response to one of Ross’s jokes on a 2024 Netflix roast took the internet by storm.
The majority of the Nederlander Theatre’s patrons were obviously anticipating the two-legged Triumph the Insult Comic Dog to come and deliver some specially designed taunts for those occupying the best seats. Some of them clearly pleaded, “Go after me.”
Near the end of his 90-minute solo show, Ross walked through the house (accompanied by a camera, of course) and threw unscripted jabs, giving them a taste of what they had come for. However, that primarily felt like a duty to live up to expectations. Ross seemed to have a deeper heart when he advised the many males in his audience—a gender balance that is highly unusual on Broadway these days—to get a colonoscopy.
Although it shared a title with the late comic’s The World According to Me, that sentiment was part of a very personal show that was actually far more akin to Billy Crystal’s 700 Sundays than Jackie Mason’s Politically Incorrect. Ross also includes a little Mel Brooks in his energetic comedic tune, “Don’t f With the Jews,” since he has a pianist and a fiddler on stage. Droll.
The main focus of the exhibition, however, is Ross’s homage to his extended family, a collection of quirky Jewish caterers in New Jersey who put in decades of hard labor to jointly semiraise him while providing baked meats for 4,000 weddings and an equal number of Jewish funerals.
Ross has obviously realized that his formidable improv skills were honed while carving prime rib at Clinton Manor Catering in Newark. There, he worked with Scottish and Irish waitresses, a Russian man who made fruit salads, a Hungarian man who made the Jell-O molds, and ball-busting Haitian guys who ran the kitchen and stomped all over the boss’s son. Despite his own drug problems, his dad would often dress up in a tuxedo and charm at the catering hall, giving every New Jersey bride the impression that they were at the wedding of the century.
Ross was only 19 when that father passed away. Ross’s grandfather took over after his mother passed away, even moving in with him after Ross graduated from college. In addition to Ross’s living sister, all of the aforementioned are subtly but distinctly adored in the program. Ross the dog even shows up, howling for dinner.
The 59-year-old Ross has obviously realized that he couldn’t accomplish anything by himself. Furthermore, even while it has undoubtedly been profitable, I’ll bet he has made the decision that he does not want his artistic legacy to consist solely of denigrating other people.
Even while some of his younger Comedy Central followers may believe that their idol has gone mushy, that’s fair enough: Who on Broadway trots out their dog every night?
However, that’s not a fair evaluation of the program, which is directed by Stephen Kessler and is, in my opinion, much more intricate and well-written than most people will realize. Ross’s inherently acerbic tendencies allow him to get away with such an excess of sentiment; the jokes are sharp enough and the laughs are hard and abundant enough that the schmaltz feels not only endearing but well-earned.
Few comics are self-aware enough to depict themselves honestly and truthfully. Ross demonstrates his ability. Who could have known?
Ultimately, you get the impression that Ross had a strong internal desire to humanize himself, and if he wanted to show how his success wasn’t without hardship and sadness, he succeeds.
Broadway’s future depends on shows that appeal to the average middle class, and because producers know that women purchase the majority of tickets and plan their shows accordingly, it’s not a terrible idea to have an attraction that caters to average guys.
When Ross first steps onto the Nederlander stage, he declares, “Performing 90 feet from Port Authority has always been a dream of mine.” Although it’s a joke, it’s a highly clever and humorous one. The more candid statement is near the end when Ross states, essentially, “I’m on Broadway, Mom and Dad, so I must have done something right.” He isn’t sure whether to look up or down.
It’s obvious how Ross’s show came to be that they weren’t present to witness it, just as they weren’t present for any of his career-defining roasts.
Well done, inventor. Mr. Ross, you can now roast on.
