The best stand-up about family draws on the raw and ridiculous business of living together. The lack of personal space, the intergenerational shenanigans, the moments of giddy horror when our curated self-image crumbles in full view of kids and elders. Sara Devcich’s latest hour of comedy gets right into the good stuff, delivering messy, sometimes surreal yet deeply relatable family anecdotes.

The star of the hour’s own relatives are here on opening night. Their enthusiastic hoots of support and cackles of recognition are wonderful, and their presence really brings the tales to life. Devcich’s deft crowd work hits a sweet spot, not calling anyone out too much – this is a very welcoming show. She invites us to share in a bit of classic sibling rivalry. We bond over the crude comfort that comes from oversharing ourselves with other human animals over years of cohabitation. Traditional family expectations need very little work to seem silly. All Devcich needs to do is hold them up to real life.

Religion, classism, gender politics, all the usual topics get a turn on the cue-sheet. Women’s bodies, sex ed, uncooperative genitals and the speculation of over-imaginative teens aren’t new or shocking topics by themselves – though some of the anecdotes are novel enough to induce a few startled coughs before the audience’s laughs kick in.

Like a homemade gift, the presentation and the intent are what makes the set special. There is something undeniably grounded about the way Devcich spins her tales. She is so honest about her moral inconsistencies that she gives us permission to accept our own messes. There’s very little ego or edge on display here. Devcich’s friendly tone evokes late night conversations held in cluttered kitchens with leftover wine, after the dancing is done and the party has grown calm.

In her set, Devcich downplays the impact she can make on the world as a comedian. That doesn’t seem right, though: laughter is important. The publicity for Exposé talks about shame – about a parent looking back on their past as they field awkward questions from their kid, trying to get their story straight. But this show doesn’t feel shameful at all. It feels like pure celebration, especially for those of us with pasts that prove tricky to discuss in polite company. We leave standing a bit straighter, trading our own ridiculous tales all the way back to the car.  

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