Hannah Einbinder's climate change bit burns brightest in Everything Must Go

Hannah Einbinder’s debut stand-up special Everything Must Go, which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival on Tuesday and on Max today, sees the 29-year-old Hacks breakout doing exactly as its title suggests: making a case for what belongs in the trash. The staging—the lighting direction, especially—at the El Rey theater in her native Los Angeles is stunning by standup special standards. This, according to Einbinder in a post-premiere Q&A with SNL’s Sarah Sherman and director Sandy Honig, was intentional. “Standup comedy is not typically a medium where aesthetics are considered,” she noted. Her inspiration came from a myriad of places, including David Lynch’s repertoire and the Barbra Streisand-starring A Star Is Born. Frankly, it shows. In fact, the result feels more akin to a one-woman show, theatrically punctuated by Zach Galifianakis-esque prolonged pauses.

Einbinder’s list of other considerations includes capitalism, humanity, and, perhaps most notably, male trees. It’s the latter, the basis of an extended bit, that reveals more about its messenger than most else in the 55-minute set. It begins with what one might first suspect is a simple anecdote. What it becomes by its end—over 10 minutes later—is a delightful tirade about climate change made distinctly, neurotically her, thanks to the twists and turns of an O. Henry story and one pitch-perfect My Cousin Vinny impression.

The comedian begins with a history lesson. “In 1949, a man named Alfred Stefferud wrote an article in the USDA Journal of Agriculture and in it, he recommended that city and urban planners only plant trees of the male variety because he said trees of the female variety littered cumbersome seeds and fruit that made the streets unbecoming,” she deadpans. As Einbinder ramps up, she vacillates between academic journal-adjacent jargon (“trees in the wild operate under essentially botanical communism”) and the vernacular of, well, a millennial former stoner (“fuckass boy trees”). With impressive lucidity, Einbinder parses how Stefferud’s influence has led to a staggering increase in Americans’ allergies. Male trees emit toxins through pollen that then winds up on the surfaces of water and—as the sniffly and suffering community knows—literally everywhere else. “You want to talk to me about toxic masculinity?” Einbinder exclaims.

But she doesn’t stop at trees. Einbinder then moves on to bees, who she theorizes are working overtime for a “polyamorous, monarchical tyrant” only to produce crops for us ungrateful assholes. Humanity, Einbinder thinks, is a “toxic, abusive husband,” and climate change is quite simply “planet Earth recognizing her worth and filing for a divorce.” While this isn’t an entirely unique, un-memed metaphor, one hell of a Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny impersonation makes it Einbinder’s own. “4.5 billion years I put into this!” she exclaims in a mock New York accent, imagining Earth throwing all of our belongings out of a window and onto the street in an act of defiance.

Then, she launches into how she thinks the sun and the moon might react to humanity’s selfishness. As the latter, she shrouds herself in a curtain and peeks through as if to emulate the moon’s starkness against a night sky. The original bit, she noted after the screening, saw her giving voice to every planet in the solar system though that was ultimately cut prior to the taping. It might’ve felt wrought if not for her mental agility, surprising adeptness at voice changes, and thoughtful production.

So, what does this one bit say about Einbinder? That she’s an insomniac who pours over decades-old USDA journals at night? Sure. That she’s allergy-prone and pretty pissed about it? Absolutely. More than anything though, it’s a testament to her ability to see a joke right through to its punchline–even after the bit began some ten minutes earlier.

Those who’ve followed Einbinder since her 2020 debut on The Late Show will have encountered much of the material—bisexuality, drug abuse, and her parents playing God—before. Others might even be disappointed in a lack of more intimate revelations, especially after an opening alluding to her mother’s (SNL alum Laraine Newman) occasional absences swiftly passes without elaboration. While I’m sympathetic, of course, I’ll note that most male comics needn’t rely on oversharing to be lauded. I’m also not a member of the “this nepo baby should’ve told us more about her trauma so we can laugh at it” camp. Besides, her own observations are solid enough to stand without the backstory.

All in all, Everything Must Go is a fine first stand-up special. Each joke included in the special, according to Einbinder after the screening, was a time capsule she felt proud of. Now, though, she’s “ready to do the new shit.” And if it’s anything like the male tree bit, we all have cause to be excited.