Ben Wasserman is somewhere between Los Angeles and Phoenix driving a rental hybrid minivan that, he jokes during an interview with Denverite, feels like it should be packed with five kids on their way to soccer practice. Instead, he's alone touring his comedy show about death, grief and loss, inspired by his experience losing seven loved ones in the span of three years.
His father, Howard Wasserman, was the first to die in early 2017, following a five-year battle with lung cancer on the same day that former President Donald Trump was inaugurated into office.
"There was just so much attention, I felt, on the wrong man," Wasserman said. With the world captivated by someone else, "it felt like I had to do whatever it took to carve out a memory and bear witness for my dad. And then that just spiraled because everyone else just started dying," he continued.
"Live after Death" is a chaotic, vaudevillian and interactive comedy show that Wasserman performs at funeral homes, cemeteries and other locations associated with death across the country. Wasserman has been recognized in outlets like The New York Times and Boston Globe for his comedy about dying and the show's ability to help grieving adults find community and laughter in the places where death often lives.
His show will make a stop at Denver's Feldman Mortuary on Sunday, Oct. 22 as part of his 15-city tour across the country. Tickets are $18.
"[The audience] mostly learns about my responses and feelings in the face of losing them and trying to connect over that."
Born in Long Island and now a Brooklyn resident, Wasserman has spent a decade on comedy stages basking in laughter's limelight.
After suffering the losses of his father in 2017, his grandfather and uncle shortly after, and then friends and fellow comedians Nick O'Connor in September 2017, Ryan McCormack in 2018, Raghav Mehta in 2019 and Steven Whalen in 2020, Wasserman looked to comedy as a place where he could cope with so much grief.
"We're all going to lose and we're all going to die," Wasserman said. "I've sat with my story and all these losses the last seven years. But through the pandemic, the brutality of capitalism, the healthcare system, everything, everyone else has also dealt with this stuff. I was more interested in hearing what other folks had to say."
Wasserman remembers "Live after Death" being a welcome accident that took time to develop.
Wasserman realized the potential for bringing laughter to untapped spaces after mentioning the idea for a show about the deaths around him to a friend who worked at a funeral home and was interested in hosting more community events.
For some funeral homes and cemeteries, promoting death literacy to community members is one reason they have an interest in hosting shows like this one. Now, the comic has tapped into a network of funeral home directors that have opened their doors to the comic.
"It's anywhere between 'OK?' to 'Hell yeah.' Other times it's 'No, no, no, no.'" Wasserman said regarding how the calls go. "I never really anticipated that my comedy career would get me to be friends with crematory operators and morticians, but here I am. My favorite night on the tour so far was hanging out on a farm with a casket weaver."
Laughter in funeral homes isn't uncommon, as Wasserman points out. He gives the example of eulogies that crack jokes or someone's child doing something silly down the aisles of a funeral. Wasserman's show is a blend of comedy, clowning, crowd work and a community conversation about their loved ones.
"If you're coming to the cemetery or the funeral home for a comedy show, I'm hoping that you're willing to laugh," Wasserman said. "It's just coming with the organized principle being joy and not sorrow is a little bit different."
Wasserman is hesitant to promote the show as a "healing" opportunity but has often received feedback from teary eyed audience members who hug and thank him for helping them feel less alone in their grief.
"It's a crazy place to be as an alt-goofball comedian," Wasserman said. "I think what I have found is that it's definitely filling some sort of need for people whether that's a healing or a cathartic thing."
There's not an overarching thesis to the show, Wasserman said.
"It's just sort of -- death sucks, it's here. Grief sucks, it happens," he continued. "Tell the people you love that you love them while you can because one day you can't."
