Hasan Minhaj might be the next great American storyteller

I first saw Hasan Minhaj, creator of Netflix’s Patriot Act, in the fall of 2015. He was performing the early version of Homecoming King, which would become a groundbreaking Netflix special, at the 179-seat Cherry Lane Theater in the West Village. The audience was half-full, a respectable Thursday turnout, and a house manager came over to me and my friends and asked if we’d like to move up and sit in the front row. 

For the next hour-plus, Minhaj spoke directly to us, as he does to the camera in large swathes of the 2016 Netflix special. To call it standup is to gravely oversimplify; it’s a one-man show, a seamless blend of humor and heart, and an entity unto itself.

It speaks to Minhaj’s unique artistic style, which lies at the intersection of traditional comedy, memoir, and political discourse – he is, first and foremost, a storyteller. Story, not comedy, is the basis for Patriot Act and for an artistic and cultural revolution. 

Homecoming King undoubtedly paved the way for Minhaj’s storytelling style, not only with the fusing of genre elements, but with dynamic stage design, interactive screens, and other visual components Minhaj worked on with production designer Marc Janowitz.

“I like to move around on stage and use my hands and be liberated, and I wanted the entire stage to almost be extensions of my thoughts and my ideas,” Minhaj tells Mashable via phone interview. The desire to elucidate certain points or themes with screens led him and Janowitz to create a “new storytelling language” that carries into Patriot Act.

“I don’t think my story [in Homecoming King] was all that much different from I think a lot of Desi [South Asian] kids I grew up with,” Minhaj says. “A lot of us, we shared sort of similar stories like that with our parents and growing up and identity – but I think what was unique and special about it was it was the first time those thoughts were put concisely into 72 minutes and sort of given this beautiful polish with sound design, art design, and creative direction behind it. It was put on wax in a very concise way.”

In his years at The Daily Show, and in watching its many offspring, Minhaj grew frustrated by what you might call the constraints of genre. Storytellers and stand-up comics don’t necessarily engage screens or use the entire stage; similarly, political satirists, more often than not, sit behind a desk and talk into a camera. 

“You’re either all in the field or you’re inside of the studio,” he says. “But for me I was like ‘What if I’m able to do all of that and the screens and the stage, they serve as extensions of my mind?’ and the stage was actually a character in the show like anything else.”

It’s fitting that Minhaj invented a new style and language for his work, since he’s bringing forth a viewpoint as yet unseen in similar entertainment.

“When it comes to my American identity, I’ve oftentimes felt as an insider and an outsider at the same time,” he says. “I can speak to being an American but I can also speak to being a child of immigrants or feeling like an outsider, and for the longest time in this specific space, political satire, late night, we’ve usually been spoken to or spoken for.”

In the winter of 2018, I see Minhaj again, once again with front row seats. Word has spread through Brown Town that he’s doing new material at the Comedy Cellar, so my friends and I snag tickets for a late show on a weekday. One of his longer segments – and they are segments, not bits – is about refugees, and I imagine it’s the first time a PowerPoint of immigration statistics has ever gone up at the Cellar. 

“There’s a personal limitation to mining stories from my life,” Minhaj says. “A creative graduation for me was to say how can I storytell about things that are outside of my own life. How can I storytell and tell a humanizing story about say, refugees, or a story about Affirmative Action…How can I tell a story with the different characters that are involved in this case?”

He’s well aware – and critical – of the notion that comedians have somehow been tasked with reaching across the aisle in politically divisive times.

“We’ve all argued with family members on Facebook, we know that doesn’t work,” he says. “I’m being candid – I alone cannot change someone’s mind. I think it’s a myriad of things that happen; it’s the art we see, it’s the shows that you watch, the people that you interact with – all of those things can collectively, hopefully change someone’s mind.”

He notes a pervasive idea thrown around since 2016 – that Trump wouldn’t have become President if Jon Stewart had been on the air. “Really? Bush won back to back…Stewart and Colbert Voltron-ed their powers together. They had a whole hour on Comedy Central; still didn’t work.”

“If you’re able to tell a story, things become less about political ideology and you’re just introducing characters and you’re trying to convey a narrative through that,” he explains. “And hopefully, hopefully you’re able to engender some empathy with people across the aisle.”

I see Minhaj again at the final night of Before the Storm, a touring show that was, in part, the pitch for Patriot Act (he calls it “the mixtape” preview to the album). It’s 7 p.m. – a.k.a. start time – and hundreds of faces like mine line the sidewalk and lobby of Carnegie Hall. We’ve turned out in droves to support our boy and we’re still running on Indian Standard Time, with stragglers trickling in well up to half-past the hour as Minhaj takes the stage.

This time I’m up in the dress circle, squinting through dry contacts to get a good look Minhaj, who’s energy permeates the cavernous space as much as it filled cozy Cherry Lane years ago – if anything, his performance is magnified to match the venue. He speaks to the orchestra, the balcony, the “muppet seats” along the side of the stage. He pauses to lament the end of tour, and at one point, chastises the room as if he is every audience member’s big brother: “Stop it, you guys, we’re at Carnegie Hall.” He knows what it took to be here, and though he hasn’t been around long enough to be jaded, he’s seen enough to keep the optimism and the fire alive.

“For better for worse, I really do believe in people’s humanity, and society’s potential, especially in America,” he says. “I do think we have an incredible amount of potential for good and for change…Maybe I’m naive, but I definitely want to do my part to try.”

Patriot Act is now streaming on Netflix, with new episodes every week.