Lifestyle
These older women may be 'heading for the coffin,' but they're getting laughs in L.A.
Susan Ware spends each morning, from around 8:30 to 11:30 a.m., crafting jokes.
“I’ve got notebooks. I’ve got sides of the newspaper where I’ve written in the margins. I’ve got jokes written everywhere,” the 80-year-old said. As she thumbs through legal sheets, throwing out old stuff that’s not funny anymore, her two cats and dog lounge lazily on the couch beside her.
Stand-up comedian Susan Ware, 80, favors dark one- and two-liner jokes.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
“I take too much time working on jokes,” Ware said, calling her daily practice the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life. “It annoys me because I have other things I would like to do.”
A retired real estate agent, Ware started stand-up at 67, when she realized she didn’t want to die with regrets; she had always wanted to try comedy. At a recent open mic, with a close group of comedian friends, she tried out a bit of new material: “My six-year-old nephew fell down the stairs. Now he’s afraid to go down stairs … if I’m standing behind him.”
“I go to the edge, I will tell you,” Ware said of her dark one- and two-liners. “But people laugh.”
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Older women might not be what come to mind when thinking of comedians. The misconception that women, and certainly older women, have little to contribute to the comedy sphere drives the undercurrent of Max’s popular comedy-drama “Hacks,” which premiered its fourth season on Thursday.
In the show, Jean Smart plays Deborah Vance, a legendary stand-up trying to reclaim her mojo in the face of bookers who think she won’t appeal to younger audiences. (This season Vance tries her luck as a late-night talk show host.) But as audiences learn, Vance is much more than meets the eye.
It’s a story that rings true for several L.A.-based women who began stand-up comedy at a mature age. Speaking to The Times, these women addressed the lingering misogyny and ageism in the stand-up comedy industry, but said comedy offered them an outlet for self-discovery at an age where women can become invisible. The pay off — of drafting jokes, reworking material and performing at open mics and shows — is the thrill of the applause, but even more so, the emotional freedom it affords them.
For the past 22 years, Mary Huth’s life happily revolved around her twin sons. Changing poopy diapers seamlessly transformed into packing snacks for club sports in high school until suddenly, it seemed, they left home for college. On a whim and to fill the void, Huth signed up for a stand-up comedy class.
“It’s kind of like gambling,” the 61-year-old said of her instant addiction to the craft. “They say you hit the jackpot the first time, and then you’re a compulsive gambler after that.”
It’s easy to get “dumped in the deep end” in a city like Los Angeles, which literally has $5 open mics “all day, every day, seven days a week,” said Patricia Resnick, a screenwriter and producer, who said her mom’s death “made [her] want to try things and live life more.”
Patricia Resnick, 72, penned the movie script “9 to 5” before she started stand-up later in life.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
Resnick, 72, sees her age as a double-edged sword when it comes to comedy. On one hand, comedy remains a very masculine space, with several women interviewed for this story saying bookers are hesitant to promote older women regardless of their success with audiences.
On the other hand, Resnick, who recently booked the main stage at Flappers Comedy Club in Burbank, says her age and experience inherently offers her a unique perspective when it comes to entertaining audiences.
“People like to be surprised in certain ways,” she said. “So when I talk about being a gay, sober, single mom of two kids by donor insemination, I usually introduce it by saying, ‘You know, I want to talk about something very universal that everybody can relate to.’ And of course, everybody laughs because it’s not what they were expecting.”
Huth’s sons and her wife come up in her comedy. One of her jokes centers around her and her wife’s arduous IVF journey. It’s a bit Huth calls “cathartic” and humanizing for LGBTQ+ parents, especially in today’s political climate.
But beyond parenting challenges, she doesn’t lean into her age in her material.
Comedian Mary Huth, 61, started stand-up after her kids went to college.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
“I am not interested in doing menopause and Chico’s jokes,” she said. Instead, she critically analyzes the work of younger comics she admires: “Why are they doing it this way? Why is their body moving like this? What are they doing with their timing?”
That strategic thinking, she said, coupled with her ability to not work a full-time job, has paid off. (Many women interviewed for this story said their age gives them the benefit of financial security that younger comics are more likely to lack.) Huth recently booked the Asian Comedy Fest in New York and the Boulder Comedy Festival in Colorado. She also, gleefully, has more Instagram followers than her sons.
“If you would have told me when my kids were seniors in high school that I would be doing this, I would be like, ‘What kind of mushrooms are you on?’” Huth said.
Where other hobbies may be difficult to pick up in middle age, comedy, with its low entrance fee and ubiquitous nature, is an inherently accessible art form.
“Comedy is such a great way for an average person to have a platform and to stand on a stage and use their voice,” said Bobbie Oliver, owner of Tao Comedy Studio, which she said hosts the longest-running all-women’s mic in Los Angeles. “With older women who never had that opportunity in their lives because it just wasn’t really allowed, it’s kind of a freedom for them.”
Tao Comedy Studio owner Bobbie Oliver, 56, hosts a yearly Punk Rock Intersectional Feminist Comedy Festival in June.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
For the record:
12:36 p.m. April 14, 2025A previous version of this story said Bobbie Oliver was the co-owner of Tao Comedy Studio. She is the owner.
Adine Porino found this freedom close to home when a flyer advertising an open mic in her apartment complex, Park La Brea, stopped her in her tracks: “Stand Up Comedy Open Mic Night Every Sunday 6:30 p.m.”
Considered the funny one among her friends, Porino had wanted to try comedy for over a decade, but was always too scared.
“I just thought, well, I’d check it out,” the 67-year-old said.
The host of the mic, Sabine Pfund, was an up-and-coming comedian from Lebanon; most of the attendees were young male comics familiar with the L.A. comic circuit. Porino left the room inspired.
Adine Porino, 67, regularly attends the Park La Brea Sunday night open mic.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
“For one week, I just started writing down jokes,” she said. “I tested them out on my friends, and by the end of the week, I had five minutes and I had word-for-word how I wanted the joke to come off … Then I stood there with the mic in front of me, and I literally read [off] my phone.”
Since then, Porino has become a regular at Pfund’s mic and keeps a running list of funny thoughts on her phone. Her signature joke is about how she is a tax preparer and how she once was a caregiver of two elderly women who have died. “So, I don’t recommend my services,” she said, deadpanning.
Stand-up comedian Adine Porino displays her notes app list of jokes on her phone.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
The energy is refreshing in a different way for Elle McGovern, a 62-year-old restaurant manager who came to comedy after pursuing an acting career. Compared to acting, McGovern found that in comedy “you don’t have to be pretty. You don’t have to be young. You don’t have to be thin. You don’t have to be anything. You just have to be funny.”
McGovern, a regular face at Tao Comedy Studio, describes comedy classes as a workout, but instead of making gains, she’s healing childhood wounds.
For example, in one of her jokes, she teases herself for once drawing one of her eyebrows on way too high. The joke begins with poking fun at how she constantly looked inquisitive. But after working the joke over time, McGovern was able to connect her missing eyebrow to a childhood hurt: “It went out for a smoke and never came back, just like my dad.”
“Just saying out loud some of the things that were hurtful about childhood, the pain goes away and you realize everybody has stuff,” she said.
Mary Pease, 75, started stand-up after a period of feeling “lost.”
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
Mary Pease, who refers to herself as a “vintage classic,” found a similar release through comedy. At the time, she was grappling with the dissolution of her 35-year marriage.
“I was really confused about life,” the 75-year-old said. “Where do I go now? I’ve already had the marriage. I’ve already had the children. I already had a good career.”
It was her adult son who suggested Pease go to a comedy club because she had always liked comedians. Pease got $5 tickets to a show at the Nitecap, a comedy club in Burbank, where she was introduced to Genesis Sol, a young comedian who, at the time, was running her all-women’s mic Witty Titties at the club.
“That changed my life,” said Pease, who was invigorated by the excitement and hope of the young comics around her. Since then, Sol said she’s become the oldest regular at Witty Titties. In her signature storytelling style, Pease relays tragically funny memories about her childhood in rural Arkansas.
“Going to [Witty Titties] totally made me stop using the words ‘I’m divorced.’ I’m retired. It was a good game. I got four Super Bowl rings,” she said referring to her four children. “We still celebrated.”
Stand-up comedians Mary Pease, left, Mary Huth and Patricia Resnick.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
Laughing at herself has helped McGovern feel more secure during a time of her life when she said society would otherwise render her “obsolete.”
“I love having people laugh at me. That’s a great feeling,” McGovern said. “But I think, for me, it’s more the journey of it, the spirituality of it.”
“It’s giving me a new lease on life, because it gives me something that I love to do, that expresses my creativity and my art, and I can be fulfilled without having a financial reward from it,” she said.
Ware, the 80-year-old comic who writes jokes daily, said she would have been interested in a comedy career if she were younger, but she accepts the reality of her situation.
“I’m headed for the coffin. I’m not headed for the big stage,” she said.
Regardless, every morning Ware can be found on her couch next to her cats and dog as she comes up with her next punchline.
“I quit comedy every day,” she said. “Ah, I’m not going to do this. It’s too hard. I’m tired of thinking of jokes. And all I have to do is think of one joke, and I’m back in.”
Susan Ware, left, has been performing for more than 10 years, while Adine Porino started stand-up just five months ago.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
The Kennedy Center on June 28, with its facade signage still covered by a tarp and scaffolding.
Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images
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Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images
On Wednesday, a federal appeals court denied President Trump’s request to stop the removal of his name from Washington, D.C.’s Kennedy Center. The signage on the building has been covered with tarp and scaffolding since June 13, but in a court filing last month, the center’s current executive director said that Trump’s name has been removed.
In their decision, three judges from the U.S. District Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit said that the president had failed to prove that the arts center would be “irreparably injured” without Trump’s name attached to it.
NPR requested comment from the Kennedy Center, but did not receive an immediate reply.
This latest round of court decisions is part of the ongoing litigation filed by Rep. Joyce Beatty, D-Ohio, against President Trump and the board of the Kennedy Center. In a statement emailed Wednesday to NPR, Beatty said: “Today’s ruling again affirms that this administration’s efforts to rename the Kennedy Center were unlawful. His name no longer desecrates this sacred memorial, which belongs to the American people. Now it is time for the Trump administration to accept this, comply with the law, and take the tarps down.”
In previous court filings, Trump’s legal team had asserted that removing the president’s name from the arts complex, both on the physical building and in its digital materials, would inflict irreparable harm in both time and money already spent. In the denial, the three judges — Patricia Millett, Robert Wilkins and Gregory Katsas — wrote that since Trump’s name has already been removed, “a stay would not avert those harms.”
Furthermore, Trump had claimed that without his name attached, future fundraising would be threatened “and [will] contribute to the financial decline of the Center.” In response, the appeals judges wrote: “Appellants, however, have failed to support this assertion with any specific facts or evidence. They offer only the conclusory assertions of the Kennedy Center’s Executive Director that were made in a factually unsupported declaration.” The center’s current executive director, Matt Floca, specializes in physical plant management.
The presiding judge in the case, Christopher R. Cooper, has ordered that the center provide him a status report on the center’s operation and programming before the end of this month. As of Wednesday, the center’s calendar lists a small roster of programs, including outdoor free movie screenings, workshops for children, and five free live performances in July on its Millennium Stage. In the past, the Kennedy Center presented over 2,000 arts and education events each year, including free daily Millennium Stage performances.
Lifestyle
A meal with an animated Mona Lisa? Immersive dining goes high tech — but will L.A. eat it up?
My dinner course is served. It is a Campbell’s-inspired soup can, lightly angled so strands of broccoli are peeking out. I lift the can to uncover a slow-braised short rib and mashed potatoes. An American dish to represent an American artist, here Andy Warhol.
The room is overtaken with projections, scenes of bustling New York traffic paired with bachelor-pad-like guitar riffs. Shown on a wall above a dinner table is a selection of Warhol silkscreens. It’s a Friday night in West Hollywood, and I’m surrounded by a mix of out-of-towners and those celebrating an anniversary. And while this is a special occasion, we’re urged to get a little messy with our food — to use our hands, to paint with a salad, to draw on a cookie.
The main course: A tomato soup can? “7 Paintings” is an immersive event that occasionally hides dishes in artist-inspired presentations.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Play is the primary side dish at “7 Paintings,” a tech-infused dinner theater that aims to be a crash course in fine art. That selection of veggies paired with multiple mini cups of colorful dressings? Guests are encouraged to mix and match the vinaigrettes into a mess of hues, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. And yellowfin tuna with dashes of avocado and taro chips? That’s an edible tribute to Banksy, of course. What does raw fish have to do with stenciled street art? It’s bold, heavily angled and has a short shelf life? Maybe? Perhaps don’t overthink it.
Even the paper is edible.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“Have you ever eaten a painting before?” says Nadine Beshir, the Dubai-based creator of “7 Paintings.” “We try to get people out of their comfort zones and eating paper. I want to bring out the child in them.”
“7 Paintings,” held at Sunset House L.A. through the end of August, is the latest example of immersive dining to arrive in this city. These experiences often involve guest participation and are accentuated with advanced multimedia technology and sometimes theatrical elements.
Worldwide, there have been standouts. For instance, Eatrenalin at Germany’s Europa-Park, a dining room-meets-ride where participants are whisked around the space on trackless “floating chairs,” has just received a coveted Michelin star. Ibiza’s Sublimotion has similar haute ambitions, pairing 12 diners together in a room that will come alive with otherworldly projections and performers. At times, diners will win don virtual reality headgear.
But tech-driven immersive dining experiences have never quite taken off in Los Angeles as a trend. Last year, the Gallery, where fantastical cityscapes and projections surrounded downtown L.A. diners, stood just a couple months before the concept was abandoned.
“7 Paintings” pairs food with art and music. It’s “fun dining, not fine dining,” says its founder.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Bartender Luca Famulari shakes a cocktail at the immersive dining event.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“The economics of a restaurant are not the same as the economics of theater and the challenge of combining the two lies in thinking outside the box with respect to pricing and cost structure, such that the customer perceives high value from both the food and the experience,” says the Gallery co-founder Daren Ulmer.
Entrepreneurs keep aiming for that careful balance. “Le Petit Chef and Friends” is currently running at Tangier at downtown’s Hotel Figueroa, an event in which a fully animated film is projected on our plates and tables. Long-running pop-up event Fork N’ Film leans more dinner and movie, pairing dishes directly inspired by what is happening on screen. Upcoming films include “Ratatouille” and “Lilo and Stitch.”
The field comes with challenges. “The costs are very high,” says Joanna Garner, an immersive designer and former creative director with experiential art firm Meow Wolf. Garner has been experimenting herself with communal, immersive dinner events, and her next, the flirtatious “Please Open Your Mouth,” is set for July 11. (No tech there, as Garner is after a more sensual, adult-focused gathering.) Tickets for her event are $150 and a spot in the “7 Paintings” dining room runs $175, priced on par with a number of city’s most acclaimed restaurants.
There is also the reality that all public dining is in some fashion immersive, usually requiring varying combinations of engagement, communication and presentation. And then, are all these added elements distracting?
An animated Mona Lisa sits on the wall as guests enjoy their meals. Throughout the dinner, the painting provides factoids on various artists.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Throughout “7 Paintings,” for instance, an animated Mona Lisa, situated on the wall next to the main dinner table, will provide brief biographical details of each artist represented.
“Being able to nail the food, and nail the story, those are two very difficult threads to weave,” Garner says. “I do think, ultimately, people come to a dinner table to talk to the people at the table and to have intimate experiences. To have an experience where you’re constantly being taken away from the food, I’m not so sure if that’s what people are looking for.”
Food is framed as a star of “7 Paintings” but tasting it is just one component. At one point, we must uncover a cheese course in a tiny treasure chest, the code for the lock hidden in the projections (don’t stress, it’s not a hard puzzle). Beshir highlights the Pollock-inspired salad course, which is accentuated with a jazz soundtrack, as the thesis of the evening.
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1. A guest uses a silicon brush to apply sauces onto an entree, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. 2. Projections fill up the dining table during meals.
“This course is really about getting people to free their minds from preconceived ideas,” Beshir says. “Like, you have to eat with a fork and knife, or the salad comes and then the dressing. No, the dressing comes and then the salad, and it’s trying with big brushes to paint the way he did. A lot of people do not understand Abstract Expressionism, and they think it’s people just splashing colors around. But when you understand the link between the rhythm of the music and painting, you live it. We give you time to paint with your salad dressing.”
In L.A., Beshir has partnered with nightlife impresario Kim Kelly, who is plotting a “Sleep No More”-inspired walk-around theatrical show for the Sunset House venue later this year. “7 Paintings,” however, is fully seated, and purposefully a little silly. Beshir and Kelly have been evolving it during its L.A. run, recently adding a stronger painting component by giving guests their own canvas to work on throughout the evening. Each night crowns a winner.
“Everyone comes over to look at their art,” Kelly says. “It just kind of changed the whole thing, to be honest. People are now being creative throughout the entire evening. Instead of just watching and occasionally painting, you’re now painting the whole time.”
As for what, perhaps, soba noodles with edamame and mushrooms have to do with Pablo Picasso, or why Salvador Dali gets an unexpected dessert course of a white chocolate potato souffle, Beshir clarifies the goal of the evening. While the animated Mona Lisa will provide backstories on each painter, this isn’t an educational night. “It’s fun dining, not fine dining,” Beshir says.
And by the end of my night, strangers were socializing, showing off their painted cookie creations, sharing Banksy tidbits and asking for recommendations on various vinaigrette combinations. Ultimately, it’s an evening of discovery, packed with surprises like finding an entire course hidden under a canvas.
Darryl Mayes of Charlotte, N.C., left, and Taylor Smith of North Hollywood, right, uncover their course.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“We try not to have too much sophistication, like fried ants or something. I’m personally very adventurous in how I eat, but if I want to have this in 100 cities around the world, I cannot be too meticulous.”
And Beshir has big goals.
“I want this be your movie and dinner thing,” Beshir says. “I want people to be waiting for our next show, and to be able to afford to come every couple months.”
And to come home not with leftovers, but perhaps a painting of their own.
Matthew Rhys was nominated for his role in Widow’s Bay.
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The 2026 Emmy nominations are here. We’re unpacking the record-breaking nominations for Hacks, plus a big day for Widow’s Bay, The Pitt, and The Bear. We’ll also talk about the snubs and make some early predictions of who will win.
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