Robby Hoffman is one of Vulture’s top comedians to watch, with an hour special out on Crave and a semi-autobiographical series in development at Showtime.Lindsey Byrnes/Supplied
That Robby Hoffman ever made it out of poverty, let alone to a stage, is a miracle. The 34-year-old comedian grew up with 10 siblings in a Hasidic enclave in New York. Escaping her abusive father, the family fled to her mother’s native Montreal, where Hoffman attended McGill University and came across the Just For Laughs festival. Now, she’s one of Vulture’s top comedians to watch, with an hour special, I’m Nervous, out on Crave and a semi-autobiographical series, Rivka, in development at Showtime.
She also hosts – alongside alt-comic Rachel Kaly – Too Far, a podcast The New York Times called “an addictive listen” that oscillates between bitter conflict and vicious laughter. And her public profile has increased in part thanks to her relationship with Gabby Windey, a former lead on The Bachelorette. (“I wasn’t worried about homophobia. I was like, wait until they find out I’m Jewish,” Hoffman joked on her podcast after her girlfriend came out on The View.)
As comedians and audiences negotiate what inclusivity looks like, Hoffman refuses to be put in any box. Rather, she revels in contradictions. Her onstage presence could best be described as a Larry David for the TikTok set: She’s only 5′3″ (160 centimetres), speaks with a heavy Brooklyn accent and wears a Rolex. ”I want to play in the mud just like the boys,” Hoffman says.
The Globe and Mail spoke to the comedian ahead of her first theatre tour.
Why did you choose to do this tour in Canada?
Toronto really is my stomping grounds. That’s where I came up in stand-up. It’s my favourite city of all the cities I’ve ever lived in. And Canada has let me get away with murder. All kinds of comedians are saying, “We can’t say this, we can’t say that.” But here, people have been behind me.
How is your material different from what it was last year at Just for Laughs?
I’m becoming more me every year. Stand-up has allowed me to push “me” to the extreme. How can I be the most me for this hour? I feel like I’m on the Maury Povich show. I do what I want, when I want. It’s totally lawless in a way that nothing else is.
Gabby Widney and Robby Hoffman attend the Susan Alexandra x Rachel Antonoff NYFW Runway Show during New York Fashion Week in New York, on Sept. 6.Sipa USA/Reuters
Growing up, it must have felt delusional to want to be a stand-up comedian.
There’s a fine line between delusion and belief in yourself. I grew up where we were told you couldn’t do anything. “By the way, if you think you’re special, you’re not,” my mother would say. But I always liked myself. And I’ve always felt that God likes me too. Yeah, I’m gay, but God was the first to go, “What are you going to do? It’s Robby Hoffman.” I didn’t have the money or the connections or the opportunities. But I did have the nugget of me, and I thought, well, we have a pretty good product.
How did you get your start writing?
I was watching comics like Ellen and Seinfeld, and they all had their own shows. So two weeks into doing stand-up, I started writing a pilot. I walked into the office of HBO Canada, put my bike outside and pretended to be a courier. I came in grandstanding, and said, “The president has asked to read this.” They were like, “We don’t have a president.” This sounds like I was a peddler in 1932, but believe me, it was 2015.
A few weeks later, I got an e-mail saying, “We read your script. Can you come in?” They had optioned it for $1,000. I told them I’d have my lawyer look at it. So I called my friend at law school. He was like, “I’m in the first year of school, I haven’t even started any law classes.” I signed the contract. That pilot never went anywhere, but it got me representation and it got me my first jobs.
The New York Times just declared the rise of the chat podcast, and one of the great joys of you and Kaly together on Too Far is you embrace the lost art form of talking.
I take talking as seriously as I do writing, acting and stand-up. Not everybody is good at talking. I think why our show pops off is people are fatigued with late-night television, because you would think that a talk-show host knows how to talk. But it’s not the case any more. We’ve started to hire people who can just be hour-long commercials. And all the while, I haven’t stopped talking.
The podcast, as its title suggests, also pushes boundaries. Are you ever worried about getting cancelled?
If people are mad at me, it’s not the worst thing. Being offended is not the worst thing. It’s uncomfortable, but I am very comfortable being uncomfortable. I grew up in a house with 11 other people in it. And we didn’t agree on a lot of stuff. My brother doesn’t like gay people. I say to him, “I’m a gay person, so you’re talking about me.” And he’s like, “Well, not you, you’re my flesh and blood.” If my sister and I disagreed, I didn’t have my own room to go to shut off the conversation. We had to disagree and sit in it. I am so comfortable co-existing with people who disagree with me.
How do you feel now that you’re reaching another echelon of success?
I hope it changes me. I want to sell out immediately.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
Hoffman’s Canadian tour dates include Winnipeg Oct. 2, Saskatoon Oct. 7, Calgary Oct. 9 and Vancouver Oct. 10.
