Ellen DeGeneres Is Unapologetic, Unrelatable and Totally Insufferable in Her New Netflix Special

There’s never been a stand-up special more aptly named than Ellen DeGeneres’ For Your Approval, which dropped today on Netflix. It’s one of the weirder stand-up shows in recent memory, half observational punchlines, half closing argument in a trial featuring DeGeneres as her own defense attorney. Neither half works on its own. Taken as a whole, it’s an exhausting mess.

Let’s get the comedy stuff out of the way first. DeGeneres came up in the business as an affable observational comic in the Jim Gaffigan/Bob Newhart mold, borrowing Newhart’s one-sided phone conversation technique for her popular bit about talking to God. She peppers For Your Approval with similar jokes about mundane topics like parallel parking, windshield wipers and the weird habits of chickens — the punchlines are professional but uninspired. 

And they make no sense as bridges to what Ellen is really here to talk about — how she got “kicked out of show business” thanks to accusations of running a toxic workplace. It’s been a few years now, but the hurt is still palpable. And despite her best intentions to maintain a sense of humor about it, defensiveness hangs heavy in the air. Did you know that Ellen was once voted the person America most trusted to babysit their child? See? It wasn’t always like this!

There are glimpses of self-awareness. She admits her penchant for pranking employees (with snakes!) was over the top. The brand she unwittingly created by suggesting people “be kind” was a trap that required her to do the same. She’s honest enough to admit, “I do care what people think.”

But self-awareness is different from taking responsibility. DeGeneres offers no apologies or even explanations for her behavior. Too bad because there was a path for the comedian to own her actions. It would have been refreshing to hear something like: “Yeah, I’m mean sometimes — that’s what it takes to run a multimillion-dollar business. I try to be nice but I have good days and bad days at work, just like you do. Anyone got a problem with me? Let’s talk. We’ll work it out, or we won’t. In the meantime, I’ll try to do better. Watch if you want to.” 

Instead, DeGeneres offers lame justifications. The accusations were unfair because she never wanted to be a boss in the first place. Signs on all the doors that read “Ellen” didn’t prepare her for the responsibility. She never went to business school. Ronald McDonald shouldn’t be the CEO of McDonalds.

Transitioning from comedian to boss is tough. But no one forced her to star in her own show. All that money, fame and adoration comes with responsibility attached. If DeGeneres couldn’t handle it, she needed to hire smart people who could. If she made mistakes, fine. Own them and move on. 

For Your Approval stumbles with lame attempts to prove she’s still relatable. She’s the kind of everyday gal who declines an invite to a Mick Jagger gathering because she’s already in her sweatpants. Really? Does Ellen expect the normals to empathize with a story that begins, “Usher had an after-party for the Grammys one year, and we got there so early…”

Those anecdotes are insufferable, but not as much as DeGeneres’s transparent hunger for clapter — that self-satisfied combination of laughter and applause. There’s never been a stand-up special with so many applause breaks. Her aging mom is happy (applause). Ellen is happy (applause). Caring about what other people think is good until it affects your mental health (applause). After a lifetime of caring, Ellen can’t care anymore (applause). Ellen realizes she’s a strong woman (applause — no wait, it’s a mid-show standing ovation. We’ll wait).

DeGeneres sold her comeback on the promise that it would be “the final comedy special of her historic career.” Instead, it feels like a comedian pleading to be let back into the club. For Your Approval isn’t the special that’s going to earn that invitation.