Crowd work is a much-talked-about topic in comedy right now. Some comedians but perhaps even more, their fans, swear by it and treat it as a great test of skill and spontaneity. Others, meh…not so much. These folks argue that it’s a cheap trick that’s been overhyped thanks to viral clips on social media. And then there are those who hate it for an entirely different reason: because audiences now expect it. If you’ve been to a comedy show lately, you’ve probably noticed at least one person in the crowd who seems desperate to be part of the act, raising their hand like they’re in a fifth-grade spelling bee. It’s the “Say-My-Name, Say-My-Name” culture of comedy, and for better or worse, crowd work has become a lightning rod.
Matt Rife, for example, has really etched out a name for himself in this area. Known for his sharp wit and quick comebacks, his fans seem to love it; but, as with most anything, there are critics. Andrew Santino recently dropped a hilarious trailer for his new tour that openly mocks the trend, promising his audiences that he won’t do any crowd work at all. It’s a bold move and a quick jab at how the comedy scene has evolved—or devolved, depending on your perspective. This debate—crowd work as the peak of comedic skill or the bane of a comedian’s existence—is fascinating because it gets to the heart of what comedy is supposed to be: a craft, a conversation, or maybe a little of both.
From my vantage point, I think crowd work is one of the most magical but terrifying parts of stand-up comedy. It’s where the safety net of prepared material disappears, and you’re left with nothing but a microphone, your listening skills, your wit, and a room full of strangers you have to connect with. It’s risky. It’s unpredictable. It’s also one of the most electrifying parts of stand-up when done well. And there are some comedians out there who don’t just do crowd work well—they absolutely kill it. These five comedians make the phrase “watch and learn” come to life for me: Todd Barry, Phil Hanley, Tumua Tuinei, Chris D’Elia, and Jeff Arcuri.
Let’s start with Todd Barry. If you haven’t seen The Crowd Work Tour, do yourself a favor and fix that. Todd Barry’s approach to crowd work is like watching a master chef dice vegetables—satisfying! Every interaction is precise, subtle, and deliberate. He doesn’t come in guns blazing; he takes his time, feeling out the room, letting the audience come to him. What I love about his style is how disarming it is. He’ll ask the most innocuous question and then turn the response into something so absurdly funny you’re left wondering how he even got there. It’s not loud or flashy; it’s surgical. The way he teases humor out of the most mundane details makes you realize just how much comedy lives in the ordinary—if, like him, you’re sharp enough to find it.
Phil Hanley brings an entirely different energy to the table. He’s incredibly smooth, and he manages to stay loose and in the moment while still maintaining complete control. Watching Phil work a room is like watching a jazz musician riff on a familiar tune—it’s improvisational, sure, but there’s a structure underneath that keeps it all grounded. He’s also great at creating mini-narratives within his crowd work. You’ll hear a throwaway comment from one audience member at the start of his set, and by the end, after he’s talked to several folks, he’ll bring out a killer callback. He’s mastered the art of building an entire comedic arc around such interactions. His crowd work is smart, seamless, and hilarious.
Then there’s Tumua Tuinei, a comedian who’s been blowing up, especially in Hawai‘i. Tumua has this natural charisma that makes him instantly likable, which is much of the battle in crowd work. His ability to connect with an audience—whether they’re “local” or not—is nothing short of masterful. One thing I love about Tumua is how he uses cultural nuances in his crowd work, playing off the unique quirks and traditions of Hawai‘i to create moments that feel deeply personal but also universally funny. His interactions feel authentic, like he’s genuinely having fun up there, and that energy is infectious. Tumua’s crowd work is a reminder that being yourself on stage—leaning into your own personality and perspective—is one of the most powerful tools you can have as a comedian.
Chris D’Elia is another name that comes up when I think about crowd work mastery. D’Elia has a knack for making the most of unscripted moments. He’s quick, sharp, and he’s got he’s got a great laugh! Just him laughing out loud is enough to make everyone in the room lose it. What stands out to me about him is how much he commits to the moment. If an audience member says something unexpected, he doesn’t just acknowledge it and move on—he dives into it, exaggerating it, twisting it, stretching it until it becomes its own mini bit. There’s a certain fearlessness to his crowd work that’s both inspiring and a little intimidating. He seems to thrive on the unpredictability of it all, and that kind of confidence is contagious. Several of his recent shows have had upwards of 40 minutes of brilliant crowd work at the start.
Finally, there’s Jeff Arcuri, a comedian who I think deserves way more attention for his crowd work skills. Jeff has the ability to take whatever the audience gives him—no matter how random or ridiculous—and spin it into comedy gold. His timing is on point and such but, what I enjoy about him is this: it’s fun to watch him have fun. He’s really playful with his audience members. He doesn’t need to be edgy or confrontational to get laughs; instead, he leans into the absurdity of the moment and isn’t scared to take the audience along for a ride, wherever it may end up. Watching him work a crowd feels less like a performance and more like a shared experience, which is exactly what makes it so effective.
What I’ve learned from studying these comedians is that crowd work isn’t just about being quick on your feet—it’s about creating a moment. Whether it’s Todd Barry’s precision, Phil Hanley’s smoothness, Tumua Tuinei’s authenticity, Chris D’Elia’s fearlessness, or Jeff Arcuri’s playfulness, the best crowd work feels organic. It’s not about dominating the audience or forcing answers; it’s not about setting yourself up to get to a punch; it’s about collaborating with those present, finding the funny in their responses, and building something unique in the moment.
For me, watching these comedians isn’t just entertainment—it’s homework. I study their techniques, analyze their timing, and try to reverse-engineer the magic they create. Crowd work can be one of the most intimidating aspects of comedy, but when I watch these guys do it, man, it also seems like one of the most rewarding. When they[’re in the zone, riffing with the audience and getting those big, unplanned laughs, there’s nothing else quite like it.