It started in a dusty comedy club in Manhattan. Two guys, Nick Kroll and John Mulaney, stepped onto a stage wearing thrift-store turtlenecks and corduroy blazers that smelled like mothballs and desperation. They weren't playing themselves. They were Gil Faizon and George St. Geegland, two geriatric "legendary" Upper West Side residents with too much time and an inexplicable amount of tuna. What began as a recurring bit on Kroll Show eventually exploded into a massive cultural moment, culminating in Oh Hello on Broadway, a show that defied every rule of traditional theater while somehow becoming its biggest love letter.
It shouldn't have worked. Really.
Broadway is usually the land of $150 million sets and sprawling orchestras. Instead, Kroll and Mulaney gave us a play-within-a-play called "Mainly Staircases," featuring a literal staircase that went nowhere. It was chaotic. It was niche. It was filled with references to Steely Dan and Alan Alda that half the audience under thirty probably had to Google later. Yet, the Lyceum Theatre was packed every single night during its 2016-2017 run.
The Anatomy of Gil and George
To understand why Oh Hello on Broadway worked, you have to understand the characters. They aren't just "old men." They are a very specific type of New York creature. George St. Geegland is a "writer" who hasn't written anything substantial since the Carter administration. He’s the alpha of the duo, prone to short fuses and wearing a blazer that likely contains a half-eaten sandwich. Gil Faizon, "charmed I'm sure," is a Tony-award-winning actor (in his own mind) who specializes in voiceover work for commercials that don't exist.
Their chemistry is the engine. Kroll and Mulaney have been friends since their days at Georgetown University, and that decade-plus of shared shorthand allows them to improvise in a way that feels telepathic. When they are on stage, they aren't just reciting lines. They are living in a shared delusion.
The show's structure is brilliantly messy. It follows the duo as they recount their lives, their "career" in the arts, and their eventual eviction from their rent-controlled apartment—a tragedy for any New Yorker. But the plot is really just a clothesline to hang jokes on. The real meat is the banter, the bizarre pronunciations (think "ch'marm" and "prah-dih-gee"), and the utter disdain they have for their audience.
Too Much Tuna: The Improv Heart
Every night, the show featured a segment called "Too Much Tuna." This was the wild card. A guest would be brought out—sometimes a massive celebrity like Steve Martin, Michael Bloomberg, or Lin-Manuel Miranda—and Gil and George would interview them while a waiter brought out a plate with a literal mountain of canned tuna.
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It was a masterclass in roasting.
Watching John Mulaney, in character as a 78-year-old bigot, tell a world-class athlete or a Pulitzer prize winner that they are a "disappointment" is a specific kind of joy. The beauty of the Broadway run was that no two shows were the same. Because they were seasoned stand-ups, Kroll and Mulaney treated the script like a suggestion. If a light flickered or an audience member sneezed, it became part of the canon.
Honestly, the "Too Much Tuna" gag is what helped the show go viral. People didn't just go to see the play; they went to see who would get pranked that night. It turned a theatrical performance into an event. It bridged the gap between the stuffy world of the Tony Awards and the fast-paced world of late-night comedy.
The Weird Logic of the Set Design
Let's talk about the set. It was intentionally "garbage." They used pieces from other Broadway shows that had closed. There was a stoop from Sweeney Todd and a trap door from something else entirely. It looked like a junkyard.
This wasn't just a budget choice; it was a thematic one. Gil and George are leftovers of a New York that doesn't really exist anymore. They are the human equivalent of a discarded Playbill found in a subway station. By surrounding them with the literal ruins of better, more successful plays, the production highlighted the absurdity of their egos. They thought they were the kings of Broadway, standing in the middle of a dump.
Why the 2017 Netflix Special Changed Everything
Most Broadway shows disappear once the final curtain falls. You might get a cast recording, but the visual experience is lost to time. Oh Hello on Broadway was lucky. Netflix filmed the performance at the Lyceum Theatre, directed by Alex Timbers.
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Timbers is a genius. He’s the guy behind Moulin Rouge! The Musical and Beetlejuice. He knew how to capture the manic energy of the room. When the special dropped in June 2017, it turned a New York hit into a global cult phenomenon. Suddenly, kids in Ohio were quoting George St. Geegland's opinions on the CBS evening news.
The special also preserved the "Too Much Tuna" segment with Steve Martin, which is arguably the definitive version of the bit. Martin, a comedy legend himself, played the "straight man" to their insanity perfectly. It felt like a passing of the torch.
Breaking the Fourth Wall (And Then Kicking It)
One of the most humanizing aspects of the show was how it acknowledged its own artifice. Kroll and Mulaney would frequently break character—not by accident, but to comment on how "theater" works. They would explain the "preshow" music or the "dramatic monologue."
There is a moment in the show where they discuss the "one-man show" trope. George explains that a one-man show is just a way for an actor to say, "I have no friends and I want to talk for ninety minutes." By mocking the very medium they were occupying, they made the audience feel like they were in on the joke. It wasn't "us vs. them." It was "us vs. the pretension of Broadway."
The Enduring Legacy of Gil and George
It’s been years since the show closed, but the characters haven't died. They popped up again during the pandemic with The Oh, Hello: The P'dcast, a podcast where they "investigated" the life of Princess Diana. It was just as nonsensical and wonderful as the stage show.
What people often miss about Oh Hello on Broadway is the underlying sadness. Beneath the tuna and the weird accents, it’s a story about two lonely men who only have each other. They are codependent, slightly miserable, and terrified of being forgotten. That's the secret sauce. You come for the jokes about cocaine in the 70s, but you stay because you actually kind of care if they lose their apartment.
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How to Experience "Oh, Hello" Today
If you missed the live run, you aren't totally out of luck.
- Watch the Netflix Special: It is the gold standard. It includes the full play and captures the audience's reactions, which are vital.
- Listen to the Podcast: If you want to hear the characters in a more improvisational, long-form setting, the "P'dcast" is essential.
- Track Down the Kroll Show Sketches: This is where the voices were born. Seeing the evolution from five-minute sketches to a two-hour play is a lesson in character development.
- Read "The 100 Most Influential People of All Time": George and Gil have written (in character) various articles and blurbs for magazines like GQ over the years. They are worth a deep dive if you can find the archives.
Actionable Steps for Comedy Writers and Theater Fans
Whether you are a performer or just a fan of the "weird," there are a few things we can take away from the success of this show.
First, lean into the specific. Kroll and Mulaney didn't try to make Gil and George "relatable" to everyone. They made them hyper-specific New York caricatures. Ironically, that specificity is what made them universal. People recognize the vibe of these men, even if they've never stepped foot on the Upper West Side.
Second, trust your chemistry. The show worked because the lead actors were having more fun than anyone else in the room. If you are creating content, find your "person"—the one who knows exactly where you're going with a joke before you even finish the sentence.
Finally, don't be afraid to be "too much." The show is built on excess. Too much tuna, too much yelling, too much hairspray. In a world of polished, safe entertainment, being "too much" is often the only way to stand out.
The Lyceum Theatre has seen some of the greatest actors in history walk its boards. But for a few months in 2016, it belonged to two guys in bad wigs and corduroy. And honestly? That’s exactly what Broadway needed.
To dive deeper into the world of Gil and George, start by re-watching the Netflix special and paying close attention to the background details on the set. Look for the "easter eggs" from other Broadway shows—it turns the viewing into a scavenger hunt for theater nerds. After that, find the 2020 "Spirit of the Lyceum" sketches they released during the lockdown; they provide a hilarious, albeit brief, update on where the characters ended up after their Broadway "triumph."