Jim Gaffigan is experiencing a major glow-up lately. He’s looking slim, trim and well-styled in a hip suit and glasses on a recent morning in a posh room at the Peninsula Hotel. His vibe is a lot different from the hefty, pale, Midwestern Everyman whom a lot of people think of when they hear his name. But if you’ve tracked his recent trajectory, the recent evolution shouldn’t come as a surprise. From touring with comedy megastar Jerry Seinfeld to portraying Tim Walz for five weeks on “Saturday Night Live,” Gaffigan’s fit physique and wry, clean humor are meeting the moment by popping up in places that bring together the biggest crowds to laugh as a family about topics we can all relate to at a time when we need it most. On Friday, his 11th stand-up special, “The Skinny,” premieres on Hulu as part of the new brand rollout dubbed “Hulu Laughing Now,” featuring 12 new comedy specials per year on the streaming platform. We spoke to Gaffigan about the inspiration behind his new hourlong special, the pains of parenting teenagers and how growing his career while his body gets slimmer is only the beginning of his new chapter in comedy. This interview was edited for length and clarity.
In your new special “The Skinny,” obviously you talk about the fact that you’ve had a body transformation. What inspired you to make a change to become Slim Jim?
I wish there was some romantic story surrounding it, but it really came down to my doctor who brought it up. [She said,] “I’ve noticed you’ve gained a fair amount of weight.” In the ’90s I was working out twice a day to be thin. And then once I had kids, I was desperately trying to find time to work out. And then it just got to a point where my knees didn’t work. So [my doctor] said, “You can try these appetite suppressants.” And I’m like, “Yeah, sure!” but I didn’t have an expectation it would work. Even when I was working out twice a day — I have a joke where I was like, “I need to work out a lot just to look like someone who doesn’t work out.” And so I was pleasantly surprised when it worked.
What are some vices, especially being on the road as a comic, that you’ve had to give up?
I can’t tell you how much this drug curbs this insatiable eating I have, but it also curbs other things. So if I have one drink, then I’m like, I’m good, or if I have any kind of compulsive behavior, it kind of diminishes. I mean, I joke around in the special that I feel no joy, but it kind of makes you behave like an adult, which is weird.
Describe the process of whittling down the material for “The Skinny.” What do you hope that audiences will get to see from you in terms of what’s going on with your life and your comedy?
Stand-up has changed so much. The notion that people are putting out multiple specials didn’t exist when I started with stand-up, but I think that people who consume a stand-up comedian’s material, there’s a familiarity, but it’s like a friendship. You can’t have the exact same conversation, even though we all have friends where it’s like we’re having the same conversation about high school — it has to be different. You both have to challenge each other. So for me, working on the special or working on this new hour that I’m working on now, it’s self-assignment. So some of it, as any creative person, it’s like, “What can I talk about that is embarrassing or is revealing?” I think that people who have tracked me along the way in my stand-up will be interested in my view on parenting. I’ve always had the view that I suck at it, but I have a greater empathy for what all parents are dealing with it. And I think also parents of this era, we’ve made mistakes. And it doesn’t help with social media and the apps and screens. And that’s something that’s revealed in doing my stand-up and in reading some of the parenting books. I don’t know if you have kids, do you have kids?
No, I’m still happy.
[Laughs] There’s books that reveal the mistakes [we] have made. Parents of teenagers have this perspective. Adults have an impression of what their teenage years were like and I’m providing this point of view of what it’s like to live with these people. It’s kind of a cliché, but raising teenagers is like raising a mentally ill person. It sounds harsh — we know there’s a natural separation process where teenagers challenge things, but I love that I’ve gained this perspective of “Was my dad a d— or maybe I was a d—?” Maybe it’s kind of basic, but that’s something that’s universal. We all went through being teenagers and not necessarily the conflict but the misunderstanding between the teenager and the parent, which I find fascinating.
Do you think the stress of raising your own teenagers feels like payback for how you were as a teen?
I would say I was a good teen. I was very hardworking. I would say that my dad was unnecessarily annoyed by some of my behavior. And now I’m kind of like, “Oh, I get it. I totally get what his annoyance was.” And these are your children and you’d do anything for them. But there is a bafflement. I talk about it [in the special] where you have this sweet 12-year-old and then they change. And I’m obviously using hyperbole and exaggeration, but there is a shift. And what’s so great about touring with the material is that it’s a conversation, so the feedback from the audience can prove your premise or your theory. So even older parents, empty nesters, can say, “Oh yeah, that’s true.” The hyperbolic, humorous statement you’re making is only funny because it’s grounded in a shared experience.
One of the things that is unique about your comedy is that it’s not about trying to say something necessarily outlandish. It’s about bringing people together in a way by poking fun at everyone at the same time. How did you hone your comedic voice and why do you think your brand of comedy is important these days, when so many comedians — or just comedy in general — is really dedicated to getting a reaction by saying something overtly controversial?
A joke is a surprise, and irreverence is kind of a shortcut to that surprise. And, by the way, we all love it, but I kind of nerd out [when talking about the idea that] there is an aftertaste to comedy. We all have that really kind of bitchy friend that makes us laugh, that is kind of a little mean, but then afterward we feel a little guilty [because] I know they went too far, or, you know, I shouldn’t have laughed at what they said. I believe there is an aftertaste so you can take that short-term approach. … I think some comedians just do what they have to do. Irreverence is also something where it’s not in my wheelhouse, some comics are really good at it, and that is their thing. … I believe you can be respectful and highlight some important stories and also present the humor of it.
Considering how long it’s taken for you to build a career, it’s cool to see you popping up on “SNL” as Tim Walz, touring with Jerry Seinfeld, appearing in movies… This is a pretty big comeback era for you — you are smaller but your career is getting bigger, does that feel weird?
That’s funny — yeah, doing those shows with Jerry, I never had an expectation that that would happen. Jerry has a clear and concise view and philosophy on stand-up and comedy that when you talk to him, you feel like you’re talking to Aristotle. He’s kind of like a stoic [who reminds you to have] control of your material. You don’t get caught up in what the trend is of the moment. You work on evolving your act and your writing.
The “SNL” experience was so surreal, because I never auditioned for “SNL.” I was presented an opportunity to audition to be a writer, but I was like, “I want to be an actor,” so I was resistant. But the opportunity to be in that orbit of this last vestige of American live television that still exists with its impracticalities … there’s no replicating it. What “SNL” has done for 50 years is insane. So even when we were there [filming] and I’m sitting in a room with Dana Carvey, or you look out and you see Jon Lovitz or Chris Rock, it’s just bizarre. So gaining access to that is really an amazing thing.
