
Rachel Bloom
Self

Comedian and actor Rachel Bloom muses on birth, death, cosmic uncertainty and pungent trees in this whimsical and reflective musical comedy special.
I did not expect to laugh at death. Not like this, with a ukulele, a heckler in a black hoodie, and a song about the dread of parenting during a pandemic. Rachel Bloom's Death, Let Me Do My Special doesn't meet expectations; it unravels them until what's left is raw, ridiculous, and strangely comforting.
The premise is simple, by Bloom's standards. She is midway through her planned comedy special when Death himself (David Hull, with smarmy charm and theatrical timing) interrupts from the audience. What follows is less a stand-up set than a negotiation between life and its end, grief and the need to make people laugh, the rehearsed act and the mess of being alive.
In Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Bloom used songs to take apart romantic-comedy tropes; here she does the same to the one-woman show. The easy version would have been a navel-gazing pandemic memoir. She turns it into a conversation with the void.

The special was filmed at the Williamstown Theatre Festival, chosen for its connection to Adam Schlesinger, her late Crazy Ex-Girlfriend collaborator and co-founder of Fountains of Wayne. His absence looms, but not as sentimental tribute; Bloom skips the memorial photo montage as too on-the-nose for someone as unsentimental as he was. The show keeps circling what art is for when the world feels like it's ending.
"A whimsical, deeply personal musical comedy special with real humor and emotional depth, though its niche style won’t suit everyone."
Rachel Bloom mixes musical comedy with existential musings on life, death, and cosmic uncertainty, and fans of her wit and vulnerability will find a lot to like. The reflective yet playful tone is praised for its originality and heart, but the abstract themes and pacing can feel uneven or too quirky for mainstream tastes.
Rachel Bloom’s latest project, Death, Let Me Do My Special (2024), is anything but a conventional comedy special. Directed by Seth Barrish, the Netflix production defies easy categorization, mixing stand-up, storytelling, musical numbers, and even a one-act play into a whimsical, reflective experience. Bloom, best known for her Emmy-winning role in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, leans into her signature blend of humor and existential musings—this time with a focus on birth, death, latestnetflix.com contends, and cosmic uncertainty.
Bloom describes Death, Let Me Do My Special as a hybrid of formats, calling it "stand-up, mixed with storytelling, mixed with songs, mixed with a one-act play". The special’s eclectic structure mirrors her approach in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, where musical numbers and meta-commentary elevated the show’s comedic and emotional depth. Here, she applies that same creativity to a solo performance, though the exact balance of each element remains unclear from the available evidence.
The cast includes frequent collaborators David Hull, Kelsey Flynn, and Jane Reagan, suggesting a continuation of Bloom’s tight-knit creative circle. Hull, in particular, has been a recurring presence in Bloom’s work, including Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, where he played White Josh. Their chemistry likely adds a layer of familiarity to the special’s more theatrical moments.
The title itself—Death, Let Me Do My Special—hints at the special’s tone: a mix of dark humor and introspection. Bloom’s musings on mortality, cosmic uncertainty, and even "pungent trees" suggest a performance that’s equal parts absurd and profound. While the specifics of the one-act play remain under wraps, interviews indicate it’s a key part of the special’s narrative, possibly serving as a framing device or a climactic set piece.
Bloom’s willingness to tackle heavy themes with humor isn’t new. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend often balanced mental health struggles with catchy musical numbers, and Death, Let Me Do My Special appears to follow a similar path. However, without more details, it’s unclear how deeply the special looks at personal or fictionalized storytelling.
Bloom has hinted at the challenges of performing live, including dealing with hecklers—a common hurdle for stand-up comedians. In one interview, she joked about the unpredictability of audience interactions, though the specifics of these moments in the special aren’t detailed. She also touched on the influence of the late Adam Schlesinger, her Crazy Ex-Girlfriend collaborator, describing the special as a way to process grief and creative legacy.
Another intriguing detail: Bloom mentioned her toddler’s love for a "filthy" Crazy Ex-Girlfriend song, though it’s unclear if this anecdote makes it into the special or was simply a behind-the-scenes quirk. The line between Bloom’s personal life and her on-stage persona has always been porous, and Death, Let Me Do My Special seems to continue that tradition.
Despite the snippets of insight, the evidence leaves key questions unanswered. How much of the special is scripted versus improvised? Are the musical numbers original compositions, or do they riff on existing Crazy Ex-Girlfriend material? And what role do Hull, Flynn, and Reagan play—are they backup performers, co-stars in the one-act play, or something else entirely? The lack of clarity suggests Netflix may be keeping some surprises under wraps until the special’s release.
For now, fans can expect a performance that’s quintessentially Bloom: equal parts hilarious, heartfelt, and bizarrely specific. Whether it’s a career-defining moment or a quirky detour remains to be seen, but the blend of stand-up, music, and theater promises something unlike anything else on the platform.
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