Skip to main content
Let’s get one thing out of the way real quick: Despite the undoubtedly misleading title—you are not about to read a review of a strip show. Not that we wouldn’t do that or anything—I don’t know. But this specific review…is not that. Sorry.
Apart from when comedian Patti Harrison (I Think You Should Leave) lifted up her skirt to flash her stained-for-comedic-effect undies, screaming “Is THIS what you guys want?!” into the crowd; Megan Stalter (Hacks) giving a lap dance to an invisible recipient; and Sarah Sherman’s horrifying rendering of “what she looks like fully naked on the beach,” these Live Nude Girls remained primarily clothed throughout the duration of their standup set Thursday night.
Although I’ve seen each of these three women absolutely kill it on their various platforms—I’ve been obsessed with Sherman (aka Sarah Squirm) ever since her first SNL Weekend Update (which, if you haven’t seen it, stop what you’re doing right now and watch)—together, they were on a whole ‘nother level of “delightfully weird” (Bust Magazine). They riffed off of each other so seamlessly you’d think they’d been a comedy trio their entire lives. But, really, The Live Nude Girls Tour—where they hit Austin, Denver, San Francisco, Seattle and Portland—was their first time touring together.
That didn’t stop them from selling out Portland’s Revolution Hall show pretty much as soon as the tour was announced. I mean, the only reason my friend Ellen and I were able to snag tickets is because they added a second 21-and-over “late show” at 10 pm. And thank God they did, because The Live Nude Girls Tour was probably the most fun I’ve had at a comedy show…ever. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Now, one thing about me and Ellen is that we’re gonna be late. That’s pretty much a guarantee. But, for some reason, on that fateful night, we had a feeling that the Live Nude Girls were not going to let that slide. Or, at least let it go unnoticed. And, spoiler alert: We were absolutely right.
So, after grabbing a bite at the Hawthorne Asylum food carts and a piña colada slushie at The High Dive, we walked over to Revolution Hall. We got in line, Burly Shirleys in hand—next time you’re at Rev hall, btw, you’ve gotta try this gin and Shirley Temple number—at promptly 10 o’clock sharp, and made it to our seats in just enough time before the lights dimmed.
All of the sudden, an unrecognizable yet ridiculously catchy techno beat starts playing overhead. People are still filing in, but we begin to hear mic-ed up girlies chatting. But, it’s not coming from the stage. No—it’s coming from within the crowd.
“Ohhh, make way for the QUEEN OF ENGLAND over here!!” yelled Sherman, as a latecomer found their seat. “Seems like you guys have had plenty of time to get your drink and sit down by now, don’t you think?” joked Stalter.
That’s right. The trio began their set by what can only be described as “reverse heckling” the audience. I’m pretty sure that term doesn’t actually exist, but…you see what I’m getting at here.
Harrison and Stalter, wearing different variations of the same red lace top and black skirt outfit, and Sherman (rocking one of her iconic, practically-a-uniform-at-this-point patterned clown suits with an enormous collar and a necktie) paraded from aisle to aisle, yelling at each other from across the room, and picking on fans as they came in. It was incredible.
This “reverse heckling” extended far beyond their (what was supposed to be 15-minute but ended up being 50-minute) introduction. For instance, whenever someone left to get a drink. Or, say, went to the bathroom.
At one point, one woman tried to run to the door without being seen. But the Live Nude Girls see all.
“Get back here! Look at you running out of the show,” Harrison said. “You better be a fucking nurse running to the hospital.”
Now, it’s kind of hard to summarize their individual sets in words, so I’l leave you with a highlight reel: Stalter sang a live reenactment of her “first words,” Harrison read an episode of Emily in Paris she wrote that takes place during WWII, and Sherman performed some “impressions that SNL won’t let her do”—which, essentially, was just her making weird sounds onstage.
Lastly, I just wanted to say: Whenever I go to a comedy show, I have an irrational, possibly somewhat self-important fear that I’ll be chosen to participate in whatever it is the comedians may be doing. Regardless of ithis whether I’m sitting in the front, the back, the balcony—I’m convinced. And I haaaate it.
But this show was different. The vibe was so amazing and empowering and fun and silly and carefree and creative and inspiring that I kind of weirdly wanted to be called on? Is this what it feels like to not have anxiety? I wouldn’t know. But anyways, The Live Nude Girls Tour seemed to have cured me, even if just for one night.