Comedy is tragedy plus time.
– Samuel Clemens
Early into Gilbert/Harmantown director Neil Berkeley’s new film Group Therapy, one of the central cast members, comedian Mike Birbiglia, comments that comedy is similar to therapy in that the comedian opens themselves up to the audience, but that the difference is that, in therapy, the idea is to give the information to someone with the skillset to help guide someone toward tools to help them through the issue. From an outsider’s perspective, it would seem that comedians don’t want to give their audience the burden of their sorrow, their anxiety, or their trauma, they want to share with them the humor, the honesty, and the heart that exists within us all. Having its world premiere during Tribeca Film Festival 2024, Berkeley’s Group Therapy is a simply constructed, simply executed discussion of the intersection between comedy and mental health that will have you laughing in shared joy in one moment and crying in shared pain in another.
L-R: Nicole Byer and Tig Notaro in the documentary GROUP THERAPY. Photo courtesy of Tribeca Film Festival.
Shot at Oglethorpe University in Lowry Hall, Berkeley brings in six comedians — Birbiglia (Don’t Think Twice), Nicole Byer (Brooklyn Nine-Nine; Tuca & Bertie), Gary Gulman (Joker; Lucky Them), London Hughes (Ginny & Georgia – The Afterparty), Tig Notaro (Army of the Dead; Tig), and Atsuko Okatsuka (Scare Package; Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse) — to sit in a group session moderated by actor Neil Patrick Harris (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs; Starship Troopers; Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle). On the surface, one would think that this would just be an opportunity for these wordsmiths, these philosophers of life who “… coalesce the vapors of human experience into a viable and logical comprehension …”, to serve as straight men for their quick-wit. There is this, yes, however, what Berkeley does is utilize a multi-location and style approach so that the film doesn’t feature comedians doing their schtick, but opportunities for real raw conversation and personal exploration. This takes the form of talking head interviews one-on-one with each comedian and an unseen individual we presume is Berkeley, the aforementioned group setup, but also casual moments of the comedians in makeup chatting, sitting in a possible green room between official sequences, and/or just generally catching someone in a hallway. The mixture of conventional and unconventional moments creates the opportunity for perpetual surprises so that whether or not you may know some of these stories, audiences come to them from a different perspective.
To explore the documentary properly, let’s examine it from the two main approaches that Berkeley uses to section the film: the formal group session and the impromptu moments.
Atsuko Okatsuka in the documentary GROUP THERAPY. Photo courtesy of Tribeca Film Festival.
The first, the formal group session, is designed with seven chairs set in a circle within a small room. Each guest takes a seat, as does Harris. Surrounding them is a small audience and the camera operators, all of which is shown either in tight or wide shots. The portions of the film which include these segments often feel larger with all the personalities in the room. It’s not that the information they share isn’t any more or less vulnerable than in the impromptu or one-on-one segments, but there’s a general sense of comradery and playfulness that leads to jokes bouncing around. At first, this may seem antithetical to the film, that there’s nothing to be gained or learned from comics making each other laugh, but this is the portion of the film that aligns with the initial introduction to the film proper wherein Berkeley uses exterior shots of Oglethorpe and then the interior of Lowry Hall as an audio clip of a George Carlin (Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure; George Carlin: You Are All Diseased) show plays. By styling the opening like this, Berkeley is doing a twist on a typical recorded comedy special wherein the opening establishing shots show off the set, the scene, and may include backstage moments, possibly even audio from the performer. Here, Berkeley uses Carlin’s voice to establish both tone and content of his documentary while showing off where his film is set as an extension of the established or expected framework of a comedy show to ease audiences into the material. Berkeley often uses snippets from other comedians throughout the film either to set up concepts to be discussed or because they are related in some way to the people in group. These group segments merely carry forward the expectation and style that people are used to, from which Berkeley can then springboard or more easily transition into deeper dives on a topic from these conversations.
Through the side moments, the impromptu sessions, opportunities form for the comics to chat about their individual experiences, giving away to several moments of unabashed vulnerability. It could be a brief conversation between Nicole and London in which makeup is the center piece of a particular unique trauma both would understand as they sit getting prepped by the film’s makeup team. It could be Gary coming upon Nicole, already seated, in a hallway and the two chatting about his experiences with depression. Yes, these conversations then do carryover into the larger session, the editing by Billy McMillin doing a beautiful dance that maintains the rhythm and energy of the conversations even as scenes from the larger session, the impromptu, and a one-on-one might be cut together so as to give the audience the full story, but one never loses the sense that the comic only started the story because of the more intimate setting that a somewhat private conversation brings when sharing elements of a communal issue. These moments serve as breaks from the group and from the one-on-one portions, but never feel as if they are tertiary to the story that Berkeley seeks to convey.
So, what is that story?
Rather than answer that question directly, allow a quick segue in the form of an anecdote. Several years ago, a close friend and loved one underwent electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). This person had tried other treatments and it was recommended that this may work for them to help rewire specific parts of their brain. Before they began the procedure, they let folks know that it may impair portions of their memory, creating gaps where solid memory once existed. They realized, based on responses from people, that (more or less) two groups existed: friends were the ones who offered support and answers when gaps formed, whereas loved ones took the opportunity to screw with them (lovingly, of course). If you are laughing at this, then you understand what Berkeley is going for, that trauma is trauma. No one should ever doubt or argue it, but humor can be a salve and it’s one that’s best shared. I love this person dearly and am more grateful than words can express that they are still in my life, engaging with each other without judgement or presumption, merely with love and support (even if that comes with a gently-barbed word … like pointing out a misspelling on a wedding invitation that I could not ever have possibly seen). As these comics share their stories, their struggles, we learn that our own are not so unique and that help is available if we only take the time to grab it.
As an additional aside, I’ve personally been back in therapy for more than two years now to unlearn habits from a traumatic childhood/early adulthood so as to be a better parent to my children. I mention this as well because the stories shared by comics like Notaro here, like Robin Williams did in An Evening at the Met (1986), like Jim Gaffigan does all the time, remind that the struggles of personhood continue into parenthood, and only with the tools necessary can we ensure that we help our children discover who they are without the shroud of what generations past have done, which is try to shape kids into who parents think they should be. Trauma isn’t something that just leaves us and is something that can easily be passed down — a realization that is handled with grace and delicacy both by the filmmakers and the central group in its exploration.
L-R: Mike Birbiglia and Neil Patrick Harris in the documentary GROUP THERAPY. Photo courtesy of Tribeca Film Festival.
As a child of the ‘80s, who I am now was strongly influenced by cable. We’re not just talking about HBO’s Not Necessarily the News or Dream On (1990), but Comedy Central and its round-the-clock coverage of stand-up comics from comedy clubs. It’s how I learned about Richard Lewis (Anything But Love; Richard Lewis: I’m Doomed), Paula Poundstone (Paula Poundstone: Cats, Cops and Stuff), and Whoopi Goldberg (Jumpin’ Jack Flash; Comedy Relief). It’s unclear if my first introduction to Eddie Murphy (Eddie Murphy: Delirious; Coming to America) and Richard Pryor (Richard Pryor: Live on the Sunset Strip; The Toy) came from watching their stand-up or their films, but both ran on Comedy Central in the early days so who knew the difference, really. Seeing how laughter could be drawn from telling personal stories via practiced tone and energy convinced me that the safest thing I could ever do is make people laugh, a tactic I would bring into adulthood and use even while suffering (unknowingly) from renal failure. I’m safe if people are laughing. Hearing it from the professionals, laughter isn’t a cure-all, but it is a way to help identify shared experience, to heal from traumas, and to find the courage to get the help one might need. Berkeley’s Group Therapy may not unveil secrets for its audience, but it may provide them comfort in knowing that our pain is at once both deeply personal and universal, creating an opportunity to be found and to survive together.
Screening during Tribeca Film Festival 2024.
For more information, head to the official Tribeca 2024 Group Therapy webpage.
Final Score: 4.5 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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