Maria Bamford has written a memoir, starred in her own semi-autobiographical television series, and spent decades crafting stand-up comedy about her own life—in excruciatingly honest detail. Now she’s the subject of a documentary by Judd Apatow, Paralyzed By Hope: The Maria Bamford Story.
This raises a question: Why make a documentary about someone who is already an undisputed expert at telling their own story?
The reason, according to Apatow, is that Bamford could be a helluva lot more famous. “I think most people, if exposed to Maria, would love Maria,” he said, in an interview earlier this year.
The reason, according to Bamford: Apatow offered her $5,000 and a banana to allow him and his cinematographer/co-director Neil Berkeley to start following her around with a film crew.
This dynamic of Apatow wanting people to love Bamford and Bamford being unambiguously herself—whether anyone loves it or not—shows up a lot in Paralyzed By Hope. Apatow has, arguably, built a wildly successful Hollywood career out of sentimentalizing the shitty things people can do to each other. He and the other A-List comedians who Apatow assembles to sing Bamford’s praises present her as something of an incorruptible cupcake of pure comedic invention, albeit a dark cupcake that speaks frankly about its struggles with bipolar II disorder and compulsively violent thoughts.
Those who are not familiar with Bamford or who find her largely unfiltered stand-up about anxiety to be somewhat anxious-making, will probably appreciate Apatow’s Bamford edit. Hardcore Bamford fans will likely be outraged at this idealized veneer between themselves and the pure, undiluted Bamford experience.
In service of this glow-up, Apatow rallies a chorus of empirically famous comedians (Stephen Colbert, Conan O’Brien) to rave about Bamford’s genius. And it’s at this seemingly conventional point that the documentary begins to drift away from the arc of a “tragically misunderstood genius, too pure for the venal world of professional comedy” and into the very Bamford realm of questioning every social norm around her, including the actual worth of fame, glory, and success.
Apatow broke into comedy through journalism, interviewing comedians about everything from the mechanics of joke-writing to the business of working the comedy circuit. Even after becoming successful, he’s kept up these interviews, turning out documentaries about heavy-hitters like Mel Brooks, George Carlin, and Gary Shandling.
Applying this treatment to Bamford hits differently, largely because comedic stardom is not nearly as interesting to her as a grassroots exchange of goods and services. She likes to recruit strangers over the internet and workshop new comedy routines at one-on-one meetings with them in cafes, where she can see, with meticulous focus, the impacts of her jokes. She likes low stakes, small groups, old pugs, and having a nice little house.
Bamford says that her idea of success is simply doing what works for her, and what works for her is often just open mic night at the local clown college. “I hope that you participate in society,” Bamford says, near the end of the film. “You don’t have to do it well. It’s okay if you do it badly.”
Paralyzed by Hope: The Maria Bamford Story screens with a Maria Bamford post-show Q&A at Tomorrow Theater, 3530 SE Division, Sat May 30, 2 pm, SOLD OUT, 116 minutes, not rated.
