Clowning Around and Leaving an Impact at ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

“Don’t hang up. This isn’t spam. I’m at ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.”

“...Oh, my god.”

During an evening performance of Julia Masli’s aptly titled comedy show during its July 2024 run at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company in Washington, DC, two audience members made a connection via this impromptu phone call that simultaneously sabotaged the idea of passive spectatorship for everyone else in the room.

Draped in blue satin with a telescopic headpiece and a mischievous sparkle in her eye, Julia Masli has one important question for each attendee at her solo performance, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha: “problem?” The caller above had moments earlier revealed a desire for romantic connection. This was his “problem,” so to speak. The recipient of the call had expressed something similar a few nights earlier. After an awkward but tender speakerphone exchange—and despite residing in different states—the two callers promised an audience of over 250 people to plan a first date in early August.

Blurring the confines of theatrical time and space, Masli’s interference asks: what does it mean for an audience to bring its own theatricality, drama, and intrigue to the performer’s on-stage persona—rather than the other way around? Clownish and compassionate all at once, Masli demands that we as an audience better equip ourselves to support and uplift one another, thereby fostering a truly interventionist, participatory, and open-minded spectatorship.

The performer dances a line between seriousness and silliness, inspiring participants and onlookers to laugh at one another’s problems but never to make light of them.

Masli is an award-winning clown from Estonia, now based in London but due to tour her commedia dell’arte-inspired solo-show in 2025. After ha ha ha ha ha ha ha debuted to sold-out crowds at Edinburgh Fringe Festival, later runs in New York City and Los Angeles yielded a similar response—inspiring a “word of mouth” marketing conundrum unlike any of its Broadway contemporaries. Each night, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha’s leading comedian improvises a unique theatrical experiment rooted in her clown training. Masli is nevertheless adamant that ha ha ha ha ha ha ha is a very “serious show” and states that her sole purpose on stage is to better humankind by attempting to solve its many problems. Without veering from this commitment, the performer dances a line between seriousness and silliness, inspiring participants and onlookers to laugh at one another’s problems but never to make light of them.

“I’m in love with my co-worker, and I don’t know how to tell them.” “I want to propose to my partner, and I don’t know how.” “I’m worried about my children.” “I recently lost a parent.” “I feel like I’m running out of time.” It was not unusual to hear such sentiments spoken aloud under Masli’s watchful direction. It was, however, surprising to witness such candid vulnerability at this event, which was ostensibly branded as a comedy show. However, this clown clearly has no interest in separating the art from the audience—not just by inviting audience members onto the stage, but by encouraging them to take elements of the performance with them as they leave. Some may even leave a part of themselves behind. In doing so, she successfully coaxes audiences into disclosing their most immediate concerns and at times their deepest vulnerabilities.

For instance (and this is by no means a catch all summary of any given evening’s events): expressing a desire to spend more time with friends frequently results in audience members physically duct-taped to other audience members. Hunger could be aptly remedied by a pizza and salad falling from the rafters. Those who express fatigue can rest assured of a place to rest their heads on stage. Those who are lonely might be connected with other audience members—or, if they should be so fortunate, invited to go bowling with Masli (which many audience members did during the final weekend of her stay in Washington, DC.) Each night, Masli coaxes an audience volunteer to pass around a plastic garbage bag in which they will collect an individual sock from any willing audience member. The socks, according to Masli, are a symbolic offering to rid audience members of any evil they carry with them. They were burned in Malcolm X Park at 3:00 a.m. on 4 August, the last day of Masli’s Washington, DC run. According to social media reports, there was quite a turnout.

I recognized a collectivist energy among audience members that can sometimes feel absent from other productions.

As a member of the Woolly Mammoth staff, I had the opportunity to observe her process, and after the close of the run, I called Masli myself to learn more about her problem-solving capabilities and the many reasons we should take laughter just a bit more seriously. I asked her how she managed to achieve such remarkable balance between dramatic theatre and improvisational clowning. Masli revealed that she aspired to be an actor from a young age. The thing is, she didn’t totally love most of the more “traditional” dramas she was exposed to. She explains:

I loved when people gathered together in a room, and I loved the moment before a show was about to start—the anticipation, the buzz—but it was rare that I actually enjoyed the show. I convinced myself that I loved it, even though I didn't understand a lot of it. The theatre I saw was very text heavy, and my English was not good at the time. But I still convinced myself I loved it.

Later in life, Masli trained with Complicité in England. Finding their work “very collaborative, very alive, very playful, very visual,” she took workshops with Complicité until eventually enrolling full-time at the Ecole Philippe Gaulier. Masli excelled and graduated, only to find herself knee-deep in London’s stand-up comedy circuit despite feeling more drawn to the playful, movement-based techniques of Gaulier. She explains that despite performing in comedy venues “people always retorted ‘that's clowning,’ and so I said, ‘sure, let's go with that.’” She adds that she is “not precious about clowning,” nor does she think anyone should be. 

When it comes to ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, the “problem” motif emerged by accident. While touring a different show, Masli prematurely booked a solo-performance at a London dive-bar called Bill Murray, but the deadline snuck up on her sooner than expected. Without a pre-established script or even a bit to rely on, Masli improvised a character that would morph into the steam-punk’ed optimist audiences meet during ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. She humbly admits, “That’s often how I make stuff. I just book it and panic afterwards. It’s the only way to get me to get me going.”

Continuing to hone this bit several times over, Masli was surprised to find that “people would actually open up to [her].” She expressed delight over the fact that “audiences would do so many interesting things and share so many amazing stories.” And so it goes, according to Masli, “ha ha ha ha ha ha ha was going to consist of problems and solutions, and the audience was going to be a big part of it.”

As I returned to Masli’s performance seven times during a three-week engagement in Washington, DC., I recognized a collectivist energy among audience members that can sometimes feel absent from other productions. Masli established a repertoire of solutions supported by a number of props and set pieces intended to appease the more predictable circumstances of each performance. Yet, the performance continually brought surprises (not the least of which included confessions of love, vulnerability, even an onstage marriage proposal).

They're just human, and they don't really want to get involved with the events on stage, but they do and then it becomes something really magical.

One story stands out. During the second preview of ha ha ha ha ha ha ha at Woolly Mammoth, an audience member expressed that they were homesick but did not have the funds to visit their family in Argentina. Masli prompted this person to share their Venmo account with the audience, asking for any and all contributions possible. In August 2024, this individual emailed Woolly Mammoth to confirm that enough funds had been raised in order for them to purchase a round-trip flight home.

Most incredible, according to Masli, is when audience members attempt to solve one another’s problems without being prompted to. She explains more about the aspects of audience interaction that can be so fulfilling for some and terrifying to others:

When I'm playing with people, they are usually a bit nervous, and they do not want to get involved. They become the most incredible audience because they only tell the truth. Maybe it is something deeper than that, I don’t know. They're just human, and they don't really want to get involved with the events on stage, but they do and then it becomes something really magical.

Masli is gifted at what she does, to be sure. Yet it is impossible to predict the ways that sharing a touch, a phone number, or a bit of advice with the person sitting next to us in a dark theatre will change the ways we think we can—or even should—start connecting with one another on our own.

In one tried and true strategy, Masli will occasionally Google or WikiHow the answer to a quandary. With a laptop browser at the ready, she frequently instructs audience members to do so as well. Fittingly, when I was on the phone with Masli I asked something that, in retrospect, feels like a bit of a loaded question—“Why do you think laughter is so important for us right now?”—she immediately told me to Google the response. She then read softly from her own screen: “Laughter can stimulate many organs. Laughter enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs, and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain. Laughter activates and relieves your stress response.” Switching out of character, Masli sighed and gently offered an addendum: “It's stressful being a human being right now. Oh my gosh.”

Neither Masli nor ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ever pretends to remedy the world’s challenges in full, but both the performer and the performance endeavor to achieve a more important task. Embracing the theatre space as a site of communal transformation, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha reminds audiences that as we encounter every experience, interpret every problem, or face any challenge—we never do so in isolation.