The archetype of the stand-up comedian is often rooted in pain-someone who has learnt to use humour as a coping mechanism and turned it into a career. Audiences connect with this emotional honesty cloaked in laughter, and comedians are frequently described as quick-witted, neurotic, frenetic, insightful, acerbic, and sardonic. In recent years, mental health has become a recurring theme in stand-up, with many performers openly discussing their trauma and psychological struggles on stage.
So, when I saw the premise of Group Therapy, I expected something more than a comedy showcase. I hoped for a space where prominent comedians could drop the performance and speak vulnerably about the pain behind their humour. I imagined something closer to a real therapeutic setting, perhaps guided by a trained clinician like Dr Orna Guralnik (Couples Therapy).
Instead, we got Neil Patrick Harris as host-not a therapist-facilitating what felt more like a daytime talk show than a group therapy session. The presence of a live audience, seated behind the comedians, only heightened the sense of performance over authenticity. Rather than witnessing raw self-reflection, we were treated to a curated version of vulnerability, still framed for entertainment.
That said, there were some striking moments. When Harris gently challenged London Hughes on her rapid-fire delivery-meant to pre-empt negative reactions-I saw a glimmer of what this show could have been. Through her story, we learn that her brash stage persona masks deep-seated self-esteem issues. Gary Gulman shared his experience with electroconvulsive therapy after decades of treatment-resistant depression. Tig Notaro opened up about profound personal losses. Atsuko Okatsuka, shaped by her migrant background and a mother with schizophrenia, described finding belonging in comedy. Both Mike Birbiglia and Nicole Byer disclosed their ADHD diagnoses.
These moments offered insight, but the show ultimately lacked depth. I didn't come away with any meaningful understanding of how these individuals navigate difficult emotions offstage-only that most remain in long-term individual therapy. Notaro and Birbiglia have each seen the same therapist for decades. That's an important takeaway, but also a missed opportunity. For many, individual therapy is inaccessible. Group therapy exists precisely to provide a more affordable and communal alternative-yet this show failed to demonstrate its power: mutual support, shared insight, and healing through connection.
P. S. It's no surprise to me, as a therapist, that neurodivergence is common in the comedy world. Many people with ADHD-often alongside autism-gravitate toward dynamic, unpredictable careers like stand-up. ADHD is also associated with higher rates of anxiety, depression, and substance use. These challenges, compounded by society's limited understanding of neurodivergence, are deeply woven into the stories comedians tell. I only wish Group Therapy had created space to explore those stories with more care, honesty, and therapeutic intention.
