Comedian Sheng Wang is used to flying under the radar. But two weeks ago, when he was in New York City, people were recognizing him in the street for the first time — such as the man who drove up in an “old-school Chevy Impala” and asked to take photos of Wang. And not just any photos: “He wanted me to sit in the car and take photos like a car model,” Wang tells NBC News, laughing.
That’s because Wang’s notoriety has just increased substantially, following his first-ever Netflix comedy special, “Sweet and Juicy.” Then again, Wang admits that it’s pretty easy to recognize him these days thanks to his look.
When he was doing his comedy set on “Last Comic Standing,” Comedy Central and “2 Dope Queens,” Wang was clean-shaven with a short haircut — he wanted to be nondescript so the audience could focus on the jokes. But on “Sweet and Juicy,” Wang sports a goatee and a shoulder length mane of black hair. As Wang puts it, “It’s a look!” His hair grew out during the pandemic and he just didn’t cut it. “I do feel like it has some weird synergy or vibe that works with the material,” he muses.
In “Sweet and Juicy,” Wang, who is 42, mines comedy from the mundane, everyday parts of life — from the meditative ritual that is shopping at Costco to how to get maximum value from health insurance. Because he’s from Houston, Wang also speaks with a slight Southern drawl, giving a relaxed quality to his delivery.
“If you get hurt in America, you better make sure you get hurt real bad. Bad enough to meet your deductible,” he tells the audience in “Sweet and Juicy,” which was filmed at the Belasco Theatre in Los Angeles. “Ideally in January, so you’re covered for the year.” He then adds, deadpan, “Don’t get hurt in December. That’s for losers.” The audience laughs.
For Wang, who’s been doing comedy for 20 years, this Netflix breakthrough has been a long time coming. And yet, he’s still surprised at how much his comedy special has resonated, not just with other Asian Americans, but with a diverse array of people. “It’s just all kinds of people at different ages, different careers, different parts of society, parents and their children, from grandmas to porn stars,” says Wang.
Even his parents have seen his special, though they aren’t fully fluent in English and Wang isn’t fluent in Taiwanese, so he hasn’t been able to talk to them about what they thought. But they are impressed by the billboard of him in Los Angeles. “They’re definitely excited for me,” he says.
“Sweet and Juicy” is directed by Wang’s close friend, fellow comedian Ali Wong, who introduces Wang in the special as “one of my favorite comedians in the entire world.” The two are so close that Wang is the godfather to Wong’s two daughters (and she encouraged him to keep the hair). They both cut their teeth doing comedy in San Francisco 20 years ago, moved to New York City at the same time, and then both worked as writers on “Fresh Off the Boat.” Wang also opened for Wong’s comedy tour last year.
“I’ve slowly been following in her footsteps in a really weird way,” says Wang. “Not just careerwise: I got her old furniture. She’s upgrading slowly. So I’m slowly upgrading to what she just had.”
Wang didn’t set out to be a comedian when he was younger. In fact, he was never the class clown. He was born in Taipei and grew up in Houston (he also went to the same middle school as Beyoncé). He attended the University of California, Berkeley where he majored in business administration. But Wang didn’t connect with his business classmates. Instead, he connected with the artsy kids: Wang soon discovered a love for poetry, photography and comedy.
It was seeing comedian Mitch Hedberg perform in the late ’90s that led Wang to the type of wry observational humor that would inform his comedy style. “He changed how I thought about stand-up,” says Wang. “It made me think that maybe I can do it my own way and be very myself, and do a version of stand-up that is just me sharing really honest and personal thoughts.”
Wang also saw comedy as a way for him to incorporate his love of poetry and photography; photography in appreciating the little things in life; poetry in the way that the right turn-of-phrase can inspire laughter. That is also why Wang avoids using profanity in his comedy sets. “I love words, and I love finding the right words to express something or to express an idea in a more funny fashion. For me, it was more about challenging myself to be a better writer,” says Wang. “It’s just paying attention to everyday life and trying to find some pattern, some insights, some meaning.”
But there is one type of joke that doesn’t interest Wang: it’s jokes about Asian American identity. To Wang, that’s too expected of Asian comedians. In fact, he says he has been told, point blank, that he should do more ”Asian jokes."
“What I want to avoid is just pandering to people’s expectations, which tend to be pretty low when they come to see an Asian person on stage — because they’re not familiar with it, and they don’t expect much from it,” he says. But in joking about the universal parts of life that everyone goes through, he hopes to inspire non-Asian audiences to “get used to seeing us as a whole people. Get used to me being a whole human being.”
At the moment, Wang is taking his newfound fame in strides. He just finished a comedy tour, and now he’s focusing on writing more jokes for a second hour-long set and “living well.” The day of the interview, Wang was cooking lentils in his Instant Pot at the same time. And he sometimes checks his social media DMs, which has been affirming.
“I got a message from a mother who has an 11-year-old son that wants to do stand-up comedy and they’re trying to be supportive of his dreams,” says Wang, with emotion in his voice. “They watched the special together. And to have the kid watch stand-up done by someone that looks like him — that means almost everything to me.”