Twenty years have gone by; the fashion and publishing worlds have changed but Satan’s clothing and accessory choices are pretty much what they were. It’s time for a sprightly and amiable sequel to the adored mid-00s Manhattan romcom that followed the adventures of would-be serious writer and saucer-eyed ingenue Andrea “Andy” Sachs, played by Anne Hathaway. Straight out of college in one of the flyover states, she fluked a job at iconic New York fashion magazine Runway, edited by the terrifying and amusingly surnamed Miranda Priestly, played of course by Meryl Streep. Miranda doesn’t look a day older in the sequel, and nor does Nigel, played by Stanley Tucci, still in post as her loyal, worldly, privately melancholy second-in-command.

This follow-up is fun, though let down by Andy’s bafflingly dreary and chemistry-free romance with a dull Australian real estate magnate (a tepid role for Patrick Brammall from TV’s Colin from Accounts). Miranda’s latest submissive prince-consort boyfriend is played by Kenneth Branagh, bizarrely the lead violinist in a string quartet. The film also gives us a lot of star-fan cameos – this is usually a bad sign, but managed well enough here. Not the big cameo though, not the one they were surely chasing, the white whale of cameos: Anna Wintour, the Vogue editor on whom Priestly is modelled.

So Andy has come back, having been laid off by some Jeff Bezos-type meanie from the upmarket broadsheet where she’d been winning awards for super-serious but boring articles. She can’t afford to turn down a mephistophelean offer to be features editor for Runway, where she finds things are very different. The magazine now has nothing like the colossal budgets of old; embarrassingly, it has to distance itself from the sweatshop economy, and is ground down by chasing clicks and eyeballs in a fickle digital world ruled by a teen customer base with no class and no taste. Miranda has to pay pursed lip-service to body positivity and rejecting heteronormativity in the workplace, and gets schooled in correct language by her new assistant Amari (Simone Ashley). She even has to fly coach.

In fact, the hauteur prerogative has passed on to Andy’s old nemesis, the ice queen of aspirational couture and Miranda’s former top assistant Emily, who is now the head of Dior, calling the shots and making the shrewd point that ultra-luxury brands for the 0.1% are recession-proof. She is played once again with style and plenty of nice lines by Emily Blunt.

It is a pleasure to see (most of) the old gang back, including screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna and director David Frankel. (I groan at the grumpy and obtuse response I had to the first film, before watching it again on TV and epiphanically realising how great it is.) It’s very funny when Miranda hasn’t the smallest memory of who Andy is. Or has she? Justin Theroux is amusing as Emily’s grinningly daft-yet-sinister plutocrat boyfriend Benji.

The movie takes us through new versions of the beats from the first film: Andy dishing with Nigel in the cafeteria; Nigel picking out something for the ungrateful Andy to wear, this time for a trip to Miranda’s place in the Hamptons; Andy going to a fashion mecca (Milan); Andy frantically engaging in backstairs shenanigans to protect Miranda from some wicked corporate coup. And for the DWP connoisseurs, there’s even an outing for Andy’s awful blue polyblend sweater that Nigel found to be such a windup back in the day. This is good-natured, buoyant entertainment. It’s wearing well.

The L.A. comedy scene has never been just one thing. Sure, we’re home to some of the best comedy clubs and comedians in the world. Legendary improv troupes? We’ve got ’em. Podcasts and hilarious content creators? We’re drowning in them. When it comes to variety shows, drag brunches and clowns, our town is top tier. Yet still, at some point even the most omnivorous comedy fan can hit a wall when it comes to looking for new things in this city to laugh about.

Thankfully, every other year for the last six years, the Netflix Is a Joke Festival injects L.A. with a large dose of discovery, turning our local scene into an onstage version of TV’s upfronts for the comedy world.

“Comedy is so much about discovery,” said Netflix head of comedy Tracey Pakosta. “Being able to put groups of people together, or talent that’s been doing this for so long, I think that’s what makes the festival great.”

Taking over L.A. with surprising comedy shows of all shapes and sizes has been the inspiration behind the sprawling festival since it debuted in 2022. Initially stymied by the pandemic in 2020, it was revived two years later and there had been nothing in the country like it. The two-week bonanza of major talent from all over the world supported by the world’s biggest streaming platform managed to set itself apart from longtime fests like Montreal’s Just For Laughs or the Moontower Comedy Festival in Austin, Texas. This year, NIAJ is distilled from two weeks down to one between May 4 through 10. Making use of clubs, theaters, bars and arenas all over L.A., the event encourages Angelenos to spin the block and reexamine well-trodden territory to find dozens of unique lineups, new comedians, new formats and memorable surprises all while (hopefully) finding a parking space.

These building blocks of the fest are personified by the big red “Netflix Is a Joke” blocks found on almost every stage. From the giant ones at the Hollywood Bowl the size of a Fiat to handheld ones at a small club that fit on a barstool, you will find them everywhere all week long. They’re part of the branding that unifies every show and a reminder of how big and diverse the scene really is.

“We have so many opportunities for comics to showcase themselves and we have such unique voices here and there’s such diversity,” comedian Iliza Shlesinger said about the festival, which includes her headlining a sold out “Iliza and Friends” show at the Comedy Store. “It’s a chance to see all of your favorite comics in one place. And then about 500 other comics. It may not be great for your brake pads or your traffic time, but there’s a lot going on.”

Shlesinger’s point is evidenced by the comedians she’s sitting next to on a recent afternoon while talking about the impact of the festival on L.A. comedy. Atsuko Okatsuka, Sheng Wang and Shlesinger all took different paths to grow into marquee headliners — from indie clubs to major theaters to shooting their own one-hour specials. Part of what makes them stand out in their L.A. home base is that even at the heights they’ve all reached in their careers, they still love playing small shows all over town.

“There’s a lot of smaller shows around town that are also listed as part of the festival,” said Wang, whose special “Purple,” directed by longtime friend and stand-up star Ali Wong, recently premiered on Netflix. “I like doing those rooms just to practice and to get reps. But it’s cool that they are partnering with the festival so that they can kind of build a profile for themselves.”

Okatsuka, who is performing at the Orpheum as part of her national Big Bowl Tour, said it’s significant that the fest, which she describes as “Comedy Coachella,” is happening in the city where she found her voice in comedy. “For me it was the alt rooms that helped me grow because you know everyone has different energies and backgrounds and backstories,” she said. “I’m not someone that could start at a comedy club, my personality doesn’t allow for it.”

With over 350 shows happening all over seven days, NIAJ has the chance to continue its streak of introducing unique live formats and pairings for comedy that have room to grow. The other side of NIAJ’s impact on L.A. comes from massive shows like Gabriel Iglesias’ sold-out gigs at Dodger Stadium (only recently surpassed in ticket sales by his SoFi Stadium gig with Jo Koy), or innovations in livestreaming like last year’s roast of Tom Brady at the Forum. And let’s not forget John Mulaney’s stab at late-night experiment with the live series “Everybody’s in L.A.”

The past two installments of the festival have shown Netflix’s desire to take comedy to new heights. It continues this year with the live roast of Kevin Hart at the Forum, hosting its first all-Spanish-language show at the Bowl with Marcello Hernandez and Colombian singer Feid, and more musically-driven comedy variety shows hosted by major music acts like Lizzo and Jelly Roll. And then of course there are one-off shows like the 40th anniversary of “Pee-wee’s Playhouse” — a comedy variety show hosted by Patton Oswalt, which Wang will also be a part of.

“I’m just grateful to be part of this bigger show,” Wang said. “I’m a childhood fan of Pee-wee Herman, and I’m so grateful to be part of such a bigger tribute to him.”

There are several big variety shows including the Night of Too Many Stars at the Bowl and Seth Goes Greek at the Greek Theatre, starring Seth Rogen. And then there are true oddities like Stamptown, which is shooting its debut special for Netflix during the festival on May 8 and 9 at the Montalban Theatre, that thrive on being an uncategorizable ball of comedic energy with dancers, funny acrobats, skits and stand-up. Being around so many different types of shows also forces a lot of comedians to add more elements to their shows for the festival.

“I do think initially, when the festival started, it was about us going to talent, to try to come up with these ideas and brainstorm what is the most exciting show that could be done,” Pakosta said. “But now it’s a lot of incoming calls with talent having a really clear point of view on what they want to do.”

Some shows are obviously driven by Netflix programming as a way to cross-promote a comic and a TV show the platform is invested in. That includes live podcasts at the Wiltern where Bill Simmons interviews Shane Gillis and the cast of the Netflix sitcom “Tires,” or Tim Dillon doing a live discussion with the cast of real estate reality shows “Selling Sunset” and “Selling the OC.”

While boosting the visibility of the shows on their platform has become a big part of the fest, that also includes backing comics they support, no matter how controversial they may be. This year the fest’s inclusion of Louis C.K. at the Bowl comes on the heels of the streamer producing his latest special “Ridiculous,” slated for a summer release. It marks his first major partnership with a streaming service since allegations of sexual misconduct in 2017. Since 2020, he’s put out several specials independently on his own website.

Asked about the decision to work with C.K. again, Pakosta said Netflix is in the business of giving comedy fans the choice to see someone they think is still the best at what they do.

“I think it sort of goes back to wanting to be in business with incredibly talented people,” Pakosta said. “And a lot of comics were talking about Louis C.K. and what he was putting out recently. In order to make sure that we have the best and the most variety on-service, having him perform at the festival and then ultimately launching a special [on Netflix] gives members the opportunity to see it if they want to … when we were getting the talent that we were working with, that we have a lot of respect for, saying how great he is and that he’s doing this again, it’s like OK, we want to be able to give people the choice to see it.”

For many comics shooting specials during the week the fest is in town, it’s also a chance to bring more work back to town for film crews and below-the-line workers who need jobs.

“It’ll be almost a year since my special ‘Father’ came out on Hulu and I shot that in L.A. too,” said Okatsuka, who chose to film her 2025 special at Hollywood’s El Capitan Theater and plans to shoot her next special in L.A. later this year. “So many productions have gone to other places and so a lot of crew have lost work or have left… I purposely was like, I’m gonna try to do my L.A. play during the festival… I’m just L.A. obsessed.”

The feeling seems mutual between comics and their fans from L.A. and all over the world who come to buy their tickets for next week’s extravaganza and people continue to fuss over planning a week of shows where everything funny is happening all at once.

“It is like in a golden era right now,” Shlesinger said. “Comedy wanes and it waxes, and right now it is just everywhere. People you’ve never heard of are micro-famous, they’ve got a billion followers. They make a jillion dollars. You’ve never heard of them. And the festival is great because it keeps growing. So there’s more opportunities for that audience to find you.”

Starring: Kevin Singh, Claire Theobald and Donovan Workun
Directed by: Simon Glassman
Rated: Unrated
Running Time: 99 minutes
Yellow Veil Pictures

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

Having worked in local news, I’ve always appreciated the “can-do” spirit of local advertisers. Whether it’s pure DIY ingenuity by a tiny agency doing its best, or the awkward business owner subbing in for a slick national spot, there’s a charm to it. Enter “Buffet Infinity,” a VHS-style collage of local news, ads, and a story that feels easy to explain, yet strangely hard to fully convey.

As the film begins, we’re introduced to this unnamed town through a string of commercials. A pawn shop where the owners seem to enjoy filming more than selling, an insurance company with one of the dimmest spokespersons imaginable, a sandwich shop hyping its homemade sauce, and then there’s Buffet Infinity. At first glance, it’s just a buffet with a few items and low prices. Nothing suspicious…except for a monotone voiceover that feels more like bored improvisation than bored script reading.

But things begin to spiral as local news teasers and segments weave into the mix. It becomes clear that Buffet Infinity is more than a flashy new business. It’s an all-consuming presence that may be tied to strange disappearances, biblical shifts in nature, and possibly even a cult.

“Buffet Infinity” feels reminiscent of Panic Fest’s “VHYes,” but where that film leaned into a straightforward ghost story within the VHS chaos, this one uses sketch comedy to build something more layered. Absurdity reigns supreme as Buffet Infinity evolves from mundane burgers and salads to offering global cuisine and a sandwich that rivals the Tower of Babel. But underneath the jokes is a sharp critique of corporate expansion.

What makes the film work is how it forces you to piece together its story through seemingly trivial segments. Even the dull lawyer’s commercial plays a role. Slowly, the horror reveals itself: a force that enters a community, consumes it, overwhelms local competition, and then pretends it’s always belonged. Growing up, that force might have been Walmart. Today, it could be data centers, taxpayer-funded entertainment districts, or the endless spread of Amazon warehouses.

“Buffet Infinity” is an indie, anti-consumerist comedy that feels as old as Reaganomics but as current as Silicon Valley branding. It uses retro aesthetics for laughs while delivering a story about very real, very modern anxieties. Not every segment lands, and it can take a bit to find its rhythm, but its originality carries it. And when it hits, especially with the Buffet Infinity ads themselves, it’s an absolute riot.