Inside Amy Schumer: “Last F***able Day”

Amy Schumer’s comedic stature is a lot like the glass of white wine she’s constantly holding as a high school football coach’s wife in last night’s parody of Friday Night Lights: it has slowly gotten bigger and bigger until it has become impossible to ignore. Schumer has been performing on TV in some capacity since 2007, but if last night’s season premiere of Inside Amy Schumer is any indication, she’s finally ready to seize the spotlight.
The first two seasons of Inside Amy Schumer have produced some excellent sketches about sex, gender and dating—“A Very Realistic Military Game” and “Sexting” come to mind—but last night’s season premiere has an underlying confidence to it that feels new and welcome. The show has been steadily improving since season one but with the third season premiere, it has finally crossed the threshold from good to essential.
It’s not that the format has been overhauled. The basic recipe of sketches, stand-up, man-on-the-street bits and “Amy Goes Deep” interviews remains unchanged. But all of the show’s key ingredients—its perversity, its crassness, its willingness to follow our absurd cultural notions about sex to their logical conclusions—are fresher and more pronounced.
The premiere opens strong with “Milk, Milk, Lemonade,” a deconstruction of the booty anthem co-starring Amber Rose and Method Man that has already made the YouTube rounds. The visual gags—like Schumer and crew dancing in front of a row of stalls as toilet paper streams behind them—justify the show spending three minutes on the joke that pop stars have spent the last year literally singing the praises of the place where “poop comes out.”
From there, it’s on to “Football Town Nights,” in which Josh Charles plays the new head coach of the Bronconeers, a high school football team that takes serious issue with his controversial “no raping” rule. Those who are understandably averse to any humor involving rape or sexual assault should steer clear of this sketch as well as Schumer’s previous work, but for those who aren’t, it acts as a brilliant deconstruction of victim-blaming attitudes.
Schumer once told Elle, “I would never just make a rape joke to make a rape joke. It needs to have a point and be really funny.”