Taylor Tomlinson's New Special Have It All Feels Forced

Taylor Tomlinson is doing very well for herself. Don’t take our word for it, take hers—in her latest filmed special, her third one for Netflix, she addresses her ascending career quite a bit (in the weeks before Have It All drops, Tomlinson also debuted as the host of CBS’ late-night talk show After Midnight). In an industry as unaccommodating to female artists as comedy is, Tomlinson’s recognition of her own victories is admirable, especially when her set focuses so much on how a chaotic personal life undermines the joys of having a terrific job. The title of the special derives from her close friends saying she couldn’t “have it all” when she complained about heartbreak post-Netflix launch; Tomlinson’s rewording feels like a defiant imperative.

But despite how deserved Tomlinson’s self-celebration may be, even with the caveats that her career success has not cured the ills of her personal life, it feels a touch redundant. From the moment she enters the brightly lit purple stage of Washington, DC’s Capital One Hall to 1,600 cheering spectators, seen from the vantage point of highly produced Netflix cinematography, Tomlinson’s terrific career moves are evident.

It’s an ascending career that’s been bolstered by a sardonic and ruthless perspective on dating and friendships, as well as expert crowd work documented extensively on social media. It’s one thing for Tomlinson to celebrate the positives of her life, to balance a difficult inner monologue with reminders of her well-earned success, but centering this narrative within her own special feels forced even if it still remains true. It’s this unrefined personal angle that makes the consistently amusing but unspectacular Have It All feel that bit thinner.

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The material on romance, parents, and introversion still elicits laughs, but the scope of Tomlinson’s hour feels more limited than it did before, and by summoning a performative energy that matches the scale of her new special/tour, Tomlinson falls back on some grating delivery ticks, chipping away at the pointed intimacy that helped jettison her to stardom.

Tomlinson is now 30, and surrounded by happily married friends who, she supposes, secretly harbor venom for the way single people like her live. Have It All’s strongest moments come with Tomlinson’s aggressive and creative observations on the shifting sympathies that come with female friendships in their 30s—changes that aren’t significant enough to warrant challenging, but are noticeable enough to mock.

Beyond the fact that it’s unrealistic to “have it all,” it’s now assumed all phone calls will be privy to her friend’s long-term partner, and clear that the vicarious dynamic between married and single friends has turned amusingly barbed, as if Tomlinson and her friends are ramping up a dating Cold War within their circles. Tomlinson’s style can elevate overplayed topics in piercing and unexpected ways, feeling exaggerated but not necessarily simplistic.

In Have It All’s best moments, topics like your parents meeting your new boyfriend feel weaponized in Tomlinson’s hands, mined for maximum expressive and emotional effect with ecstatic one-liners peppered in for effect (a lackluster riff on bidding for Hugh Jackman’s Music Man glove is buoyed by an off-hand comment on Tony the Tiger’s wealth bracket).

But despite comedic confidence being central to Tomlinson’s style, often the performer fills the huge theater with a heightened voice that mimics – as many young comics have done—the delivery of John Mulaney. It’s here evolved into something that too often sounds like an obnoxious, babyish yell, undermining Tomlinson’s otherwise sharp timing and expressions by sounding like she’s putting on a drunk voice. It’s reductive to watch Have It All and say it needs more crowd work (the effect of TikTok’s algorithm rewarding ad libbed crowd work over written jokes on the comedy industry needs to be studied), but there was something off-the-cuff and intimate about Tomlinson’s smaller-space material that is only sometimes permitted to show its face here.

Tomlinson’s experience with depression, panic attacks, and bipolar disorder has never defined her, but has always informed her perspective on and experience with romance. Her acid-tongued and no-holds-barred takedowns of the inadequacies of heteronormative courtship—often delivered meters from the offending parties—still stands out today. When Have It All allows Tomlinson to be spiteful and self-destructive, it delights; when it plays to the huge crowd, updating us on the Taylor Tomlinson Narrative, it stutters. As it stands, we’re left with an engaging but compromised hour – in its attempts to straddle the smaller and bigger worlds Tomlinson has lived in, Have It All tries to live up to its title and falls short.

Rory Doherty is a screenwriter, playwright and culture writer based in Edinburgh, Scotland. You can follow his thoughts about all things stories @roryhasopinions.

Taylor Tomlinson’s New Special Have It All Feels Forced