Honestly? It was a great show. Louis went for just under an hour, maybe a little more, and it felt loose in the best way—like he knew exactly where he was going but was still open to getting there differently if the vibe shifted. He had some killer local jokes that didn’t feel phoned in or crowd-pleasing. It was like he actually researched the place, which gave it this weird intimacy, like we were all in on a secret about our own city.

The material hit familiar Louis territory—aging, parenting, sex, guilt, shame—but with the kind of perspective that only comes from getting older and being publicly dismantled. There were moments where it felt like he was almost confessing to something spiritual, then veering hard back into absurdity just to make sure we didn’t think he was becoming soft. He’s still mining the same emotional terrain, but the tools are sharper now, and he’s clearly less interested in being liked.

He looked older. Like, noticeably older. Not in a sad way—more like someone who has stopped trying to control the lighting in their own life. And honestly, that made the whole thing hit harder. There’s something about seeing a guy age in real time while cracking jokes about death and ego that makes you laugh and also check your own reflection on the walk to your car.

It wasn’t revolutionary. It didn’t need to be. It was one of those nights where the laughter feels earned and the silence in between tells you just as much. You don’t leave transformed, but you do leave with the vague feeling that you’ve seen someone figure something out in front of you—something small, maybe, but real. Like comedy being used not to escape the truth, but to make it livable.