To hear them tell it, the origin story of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, one of our greatest comedy duos, hinges on a moment in 1994 on tour with Second City in Waco, Texas, when they met an Australian woman wearing a sling who spoke “lovingly” about the return of the dead cult leader David Koresh.
The comedians turned to each other and mouthed in unison: “Let’s get out of here,” in coarser language.
“I knew I had a partner for life,” Poehler said with feeling on their new Restless Leg Tour, which has set up shop at the Beacon Theater in New York through Feb 18. “And I knew,” Fey added in a drier, deeper register, “that we would be very evenly matched work friends.”
The comedy double act has been making a comeback. Chris Rock and Kevin Hart just released a documentary about touring together, which ends with them onstage riffing off each other. Jim Gaffigan and Jerry Seinfeld have joined forces. But it was Steve Martin and Martin Short who kicked off this trend, with a long-running live show in which their love for each other comes through in bruising insult comedy.
Poehler and Fey mount a similarly punchy, warmly hilarious variety act that aims directly for the nostalgic pleasure centers of their fans. When Fey asks if there are dads in the crowd who had either of the comics as hall passes two decades ago, many hands shoot up. If the phrase “mom jeans” makes you instantly crack up, you will love this show. Whereas Short and Martin built a roasting antagonistic relationship, this is a more affectionate and fleshed-out portrait of friendship, a study in contrasts (the musical “Wicked” is referenced more than once). Fey is all sharp edges and slashing wit, her deadpan unshakable, keeping the audience and her partner at a distance. Poehler is more vulnerable, even a bit fragile, discussing kids, trauma or aging. “My memory is like a cat: It will not come when called.”
The show itself is a throw-everything-at-the-wall mess, a visually indifferent collection of parts, some that probably would have been cut or honed by a ruthless director. The stars begin in gowns and end in pajamas; they perform sharp, award show-style monologues, a freewheeling question-and-answer session and some disappointing improv, which is swallowed up in the vast theater.
It almost feels like a callback to one of the funniest lines of the night. “What long-form improv and short-form improv have in common,” Fey says in a pedagogical cadence, “is that no one cares. Like jazz or sneezing, it’s a lot more fun to do than to watch.”
It’s a great joke, unsentimental, concise, its misdirection established with the patience of a pro. But what truly makes it a Tina Fey production is including “sneezing.” No one could see that coming, and the more you think on it, the funnier it is.
It’s one of many moments that will remind fans how much they have missed seeing these two — not just as producers or writers, but also as complementary performers who played off each other brilliantly on “Saturday Night Live,” in the original “Mean Girls” and most relevant to this live show, while hosting the Golden Globes, which set a standard for awards ceremonies that hasn’t been beaten.
The heart of this variety act, what glues all the pieces together even more than their dynamic, is the deluge of hard jokes. As you would expect from the creator of “30 Rock” (Fey) and an executive producer of “Difficult People” (Poehler), the punchlines arrive at a steady clip.
There are sex jokes and mom jokes, jokes written the day of the show about President Biden making an appearance on the Upper West Side (“The traffic hasn’t been this bad since the opening scene of ‘Fame’”) and others that are evergreen. There are subtle and broad ones, some delivered in deadpan, others sung.
There’s an OK Donald Trump joke that receives a big response and a strong O.C.D. punchline that doesn’t. There were jokes that only New Yorkers will get (“I took the 4 train and I didn’t even have a doctor’s appointment”) and a jab at their former employer that might make some people queasy. “This really feels just like S.N.L.,” Fey said. “Except that we will be in bed by 10. And I don’t have to go to a weird Tuesday night dinner with Lorne Michaels and Rudy Giuliani.”
They even reboot “Weekend Update,” with a special guest (When I saw it, it was Fred Armisen, doing the “accents across America” conceit from his last Netflix special) and a spectacular physical bit on video by John Lutz that could be called a sequel to Chris Farley’s Chippendales audition sketch opposite Patrick Swayze.
In front of images of “Barbie,” Taylor Swift and Beyoncé, Poehler dryly comments: “Well, it’s official: Women have money and go to things.” Poking fun at the absurdity of the controversy over the Oscars snubs involving “Barbie,” she adds: “When asked to comment, Margot Robbie and Greta Gerwig said they couldn’t hear ‘under a giant pile of money.’”
Perhaps the most revealing segment is when they say they are trying stand-up comedy for the first time. It may seem the same as their work as mock news anchors or award-show style hosts, but each mode has its own rhythm, and stand-up at least offers the opportunity to speak in a way that’s closer to your own voice.
Fey chooses to do so by spoofing others in an explosively funny set about, among other things, her history of menstruation as if she were a macho, stage-prowling comic. She makes “transvaginal ultrasound” seem dirty. Poehler’s jokes are more hit and miss, with some bland ones about generational differences. (You believe her when she says she is spending a lot of time on TikTok.) And yet, whereas Fey is cagey, hiding behind satire, Poehler’s best material is closer to the bone. She takes the assignment seriously, trying to be real and open.
This contrast continues in the final section when they answer questions from the audience. Fey keeps it light, while Poehler can be quick on her feet as she digs into the pain of trying to get your teenage son to talk to you. In a poignant and funny riff, she likens that effort to ingratiating herself on dates by pretending not to know obvious things. She says she acted surprised, for example, when her son told her Led Zeppelin has some great songs.
Their interests tend to clash. Fey loves Halloween while Poehler has no use for it. Poehler says they have very different taste in men though they agree on young John Travolta and Johnny Knoxville. And when it comes to whom they would want as celebrity parents, Fey says she has a controversial and topical answer and picks Martin Short and Meryl Streep. (They are rumored to be dating, but Short has said they are just friends.)
Poehler picks Barbra Streisand and Patti LuPone. “I feel like I would be so mothered and bossed around,” she says. “My dream.”
