Joan Rivers would have hated this

It is impossible to know what Joan Rivers would think about “Joan Rivers: A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute,” despite her leaving instructions for her daughter Melissa Rivers to pass along to “whatever random producer is producing the show.”

Rivers’ favorite scene partner and “Fashion Police” successor closes out the special by sharing that note, which opens with, “If you are reading this, I am dead. And given that I am dead, I assume someone will finally decide to honor me. Well, it's about [expletive] time.” On cue, the audience roars with approving laughter.

By that point, they’ve been amply warmed up by Tiffany Haddish, Nikki Glaser, Aubrey Plaza, Chelsea Handler and Patton Oswalt, among others who either appreciated Joan Rivers or worked within the same corporate family, as former “Talk Soup” host Joel McHale did at E!.  

Indeed, a decade’s passing has softened the public’s collective memory of Joan Rivers. More people understand that her frequent offensiveness was largely a defensive act. Many refuse to excuse her most egregious transgressions, nevertheless. She made her abrasiveness essential in an industry that devalued her and women in general; she also participated in that devaluation. No matter how you felt about her, there was rarely a time we weren’t talking about something she said. Our reactions weren’t always positive; she’d often be pilloried for civility breaches that would be heralded as raw free speech if the same words came out of a man’s mouth.

“Hacks” and “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” successfully fictionalize such frustrations, as the tribute acknowledges by opening with “Hacks” star Jean Smart’s pre-recorded reflections on the late comedian’s influence.

Midway through the previously live portion Midge Maisel herself, Rachel Brosnahan, credits Rivers for inspiring her character before speed reading the icon’s wisecracks about her vagina.

Both Smart and Brosnahan won Primetime Emmys and multiple Golden Globes for the roles Rivers inspired, whereas Rivers received a single Daytime Emmy for her talk show, “The Joan Rivers Show.”

To remember Joan Rivers, then, means recognizing how much her designation as a trailblazer or a pioneer irked her tremendously when she was still with us.

“If one more woman comedian comes up and says to me, 'You opened the doors for me,’” she says in the 2010 documentary “Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.” “…You want to say, ‘Go f**k yourself, I’m still opening the doors.’”

So, what would it mean to Rivers to finally receive her flowers 10 years too late for her to enjoy their perfume? Hard to say. It’s not as if she died a non-entity. Rivers worked until she died in 2014 at 81 years old, a heralded drive that earned her extreme respect among her peers and acknowledges how much easier male comedians have it than their female counterparts.

And the reason for that compulsive work ethic was her unofficial blackballing by “Tonight Show” host Johnny Carson, for the crime of accepting Fox's offer to host her own talk show. From then on, there was no rest for Joan, a performer whose unsparing wickedness earned her praise, loyalty and loathing. She said some heartless things about Palestinian civilians killed in the Israel-Palestine conflict not long before she died and famously referred to Michelle Obama as “Blackie O.”  

I don’t say these things to either speak ill of the dead or reopen the living’s wounds, but as a reminder that Rivers’ personal legacy wasn’t as pure as Oswalt describes her jokes in the special.

“They were set up, punchline, no meandering stories; all meat, no filler,” Oswalt says in his segment. “And we know that because Joan saved all 70,000 of her jokes in a big filing cabinet.”  

Yes, this massive trove that Rivers showcased in "A Piece of Work," and the decade that has transpired since she died, are why “A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute” exists. The other is undeniably pure: the proceeds raised by the November 2024 event, which was filmed at New York’s Apollo Theater, benefited God’s Love We Deliver. Rivers worked closely with the charity, which prepares and delivers medically tailored meals for people living with severe and chronic illness, one of many philanthropic causes she championed.  

But it is her devotion to the craft that the special lovingly memorializes.

Each celebrity’s set revolves around selections from the 70,000-strong joke collection Joan left behind in a massive file cabinet, from the grade school innocent (“What kind of soup do you give to a sick chicken?”) to the category Plaza called her “Eeee, we probably shouldn’t say that anymore” material (“The morning after pill isn’t new. It just used to be called ‘throwing yourself down the stairs’”).  

Joan Rivers' joke cards, displayed behind the scenes at "Joan Rivers: A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute" (Jordan Curtis Hughes/NBC). As for the ghosts of Rivers’ less defensible moments, they’re alluded to but left unsaid. McHale gently ponders what Rivers would have made of the last decade, at one point showing slides of subjects he refused to touch including Caitlyn Jenner (fair), Colin Kaepernick (yes, let’s not) and Donald Trump (remember the time Rivers told Andy Cohen he’d made a great president?).

In these moments, “A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute” prods people with long memories to contemplate what has and hasn’t changed about the comedy landscape 10 years after Rivers left us.

One is immediately noticeable, which is the difference between who made the cut for NBC's Tuesday, May 13 telecast and the talent featured on Peacock's extended and uncensored version, which opens the stage to Jeff Ross, Matteo Lane, Michelle Buteau, Randy Rainbow and Sandra Bernhard. Was this “Too Hot for Network TV” contingent?

Who knows. It could be as simple as Melissa Rivers and her fellow executive producer Erich Bergen saving other performers for an audience more accustomed to comedy unfettered by broadcast standards and practices. After all, the age of talk shows breaking comedy greats like Joan Rivers is long past. Netflix and podcasts are stand-up's star makers now.

Still, there are holdovers from the previous era of TV dominance in the comedy world who didn’t make it on the Apollo Theater’s stage or appear at all. I’m primarily talking about Kathy Griffin, with whom Joan Rivers shared much in common and, from appearances, a lot of affection. On that note, the same special that features recorded memories from Bill Maher and Tracy Morgan also leaves out Amy Schumer and Wanda Sykes, both of whom also toplined their own shows, like Rivers.

So did Melissa Rivers' "Fashion Police" alumnus Margaret Cho and Sarah Silverman, who also offer their affectionate insights in pre-recorded segments.

Aubrey Plaza speaks during "Joan Rivers: A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute." (Peter Kramer/NBC)All told, these choices illustrate how far women still have to go to achieve parity in the comedy world a decade after Joan Rivers left us. More of them headline series and specials, but they’re still greatly outnumbered by male comics. And the pressure to stay relevant, Rivers' unrelenting focus, is heavier than ever.  

In 2024, CBS boasted about hiring Taylor Tomlinson to host its late-night revival of “@midnight,” renamed “After Midnight,” only to have the first woman the network hired to host a late-night show step down after two seasons.

Her departure lends credence to the belief that old-school network late-night is an endangered species. Any woman wanting to make it in comedy today had better grind it out while she has the stamina.  

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More than anything else, Rivers’ shrewd strategy of remaining in the conversation may be the most lasting example for the generations that have followed her. Tomlinson, you see, was not fired. The New York Times reports that following her show’s final broadcast on Thursday, June 12, she’s placing her full focus on a stand-up career that is more likely to keep her star shiny. The route to the top is either that way, or as Glaser has done, scoring an award show hosting gig that places her before millions who still watch TV the way Rivers did.

But as Oswalt, Glaser and other “Dead Funny All-Star Tribute” performers mention, Rivers’ career output was only possible because she practiced her craft every day, leaving behind tens of thousands of index card-sized lessons and a keen sense of what comedy can and should do.

Melissa Rivers recalled one of her mother’s greatest quotes at the end of the special: “When you make people laugh, you give them a mini-vacation.” That she did, more often than not – and all these years later, she’s still proving her insights to be unsparingly accurate.

“I hope to God no one repurposes my old jokes for a TV special ten years after I’m dead,” one of the joke cards reads. “But if they do, they'd better get someone really talented to do it — like that delightful clip show host, Daniel Tosh.”

McHale delivered that with a relish Rivers would have appreciated. “Ten years gone,” he crows, “and she can still deliver a burn like no one else.”

“Joan Rivers: A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute” is now streaming on Peacock.