Game Changer Recap: Talent, Shown

Game Changer
Last Talent Standing
Season 8 Episode 10
Editor’s Rating ★★★★
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Game Changer season eight has been all about escalation, with the producers focusing on audacious ideas, technically complicated setups, and bigger, more chaotic casts. The season finale (barring a secret bonus episode like season seven’s “Samalamadingdong”) takes all of that to a new level, with 23 contestants, an open-ended structure with no built-in concluding trigger, and a nearly 90-minute run time. The game runs so long that it eventually turns into a referendum on what the players want more: to wrap up and go home, or to wait it out and get the contractually obligated free meal that comes with overtime on a TV set.

That dynamic winds up being unusually uncomfortable compared to the usual Game Changer energy. Dropout comedians usually support each other in vocal, enthusiastic ways, and there’s certainly plenty of that in “Last Talent Standing.” The players’ high-energy group participation throughout this whole game is one of the episode’s biggest selling points. At the same time, though, the enthusiasm wars against visible exhaustion, to the point where Hannah Pilkes says the players are getting “bitter” and just want to be released so they can go drink.

The contestants: [deep breath] Demi Adejuyigbe, Kimia Behpoornia, Raphael Chestang, Anna Garcia, Brian David Gilbert, Erika Ishii, Katie Marovitch, Kaylin Mahoney, Kurt Maloney, Jess McKenna, Oscar Montoya, Jordan Myrick, Jacquis Neal, Ify Nwadiwe, Grant O’Brien, Hannah Pilkes, Zach Reino, Josh Ruben, Caldwell Tanner, Persephone Valentine, Ele Woods, Jacob Wysocki, Jiavani

The game: Contestants have 60 seconds to show off any talent they like, as long as they don’t repeat a talent they personally used in a previous round. Celebrity judges Maria Bamford, Kumail Nanjiani, and Gianmarco Soresi vote on each performance, passing the players to the next round or eliminating them. Eliminated contestants eventually return and get votes as well.

The inspiration: The visual vibe here is straight out of Squid Game, particularly the players’ identical sweatsuits, the graphic that shows who’s been booted so far, and the ceiling-mounted plastic pig full of prize loot. The celebrity panel and voting process come from America’s Got Talent and its endless sister shows: Game Changer host and Dropout CEO Sam Reich even says he deliberately put Gianmarco “in the Simon Cowell chair” as the probable meanest judge. The episode title, though, nods to the venerable stand-up reality competition Last Comic Standing.

Sam makes a key point when explaining the game’s rules: “A talent is anything you convince us is a talent.” He’s giving them free license to go big and broad or narrow and weird. While a few competitors showcase traditional skills, like Erika playing violin, Ele performing a Macbeth snippet, or Demi breakdancing, other people interpret “talent” as “any quirky ability.” Like Brian, who rolls up his pants and makes fart noises with the backs of his knees, which he says he hasn’t tried since elementary school. Or Kaylin, who offers a barrage of safari-animal factoids. Other competitors clearly flash back to school talent shows: Jordan follows Brian’s lead by dusting off her childhood tumbling moves, while Jess raps and Oscar dances, each reviving something they created as teenagers.

The producers, meanwhile, have one too many flashbacks to Squid Game’s lethal competitions. Whenever a player is eliminated, Sam asks them how they’d like to die, as if they were heading backstage to be executed. (Producer Paul Robalino, in his latest silly season-eight reincarnation, then shepherds the players offstage as the cowled, skull-faced “Grim Reaperino.”) I thought these descriptions would eventually lead somewhere, like an animated death montage at the end. Instead, we just get a few half-hearted illustrative sound effects layered over the players’ death descriptions. And the conceit doesn’t hold up, since the players all return to the stage as a backup jury, consulted whenever the celebrity judges don’t vote on an act unanimously. I understand the urge to give players a final spotlight moment to counterbalance the feeling of failure when they’re cut. But the fantasy-death quiz falls flat and feels more like a second defeat than a comedy tag.

One of the best parts of this game comes from players stretching the definition of “talent.” We know from Dropout’s improv show, Make Some Noise, that most of this cast could perform spontaneous stand-up, do impressions, or spontaneously invent a song. But only a few of them fall back on these established abilities. Mostly, they look for surprising ways to frame highly specific choices: Jiavani presents vulnerability as a talent and invites Gianmarco to reject her in person, since she feels he’s already rejected her in private by responding to her DMs with minimal emoji reactions. Jacquis declares that his talent is hubris and arm-wrestles Ify.

Some of the bigger swings fail: Katie bombs in the first round when she tries to findom Maria, which just consists of screaming for money. Other unconventional acts are fantastic simply because they’re so unexpected, like Hannah performing three Dutch commercial jingles, including one she convincingly makes up on the spot, while challenging the judges to spot the fake.

“Last Talent Standing” features plenty of ragged or cringey talent displays, especially in Round 3, when the remaining players have to pair up for duo acts. A lot of the stronger competitors get bounced from the game in this round, solely because the shared acts lack polish or planning. Erika and Josh stand out as performers with a lot of solo talent options who flail in their team-ups, and get bumped earlier than they probably would have in a straight solo-act run. 

The team-up round really highlights the difference between the Got Talent show suite and Game Changer’s comedy version: In standard reality competitions, performers get to plan, practice, and refine their acts, showcasing their strongest skills. Here, the performers have been purposefully put on the spot, and they’re all scrambling to be impressive, or at least funny and distinctive, without any rehearsal or warning. A lot of the players’ gambits rely on chutzpah, humor, and projected self-assurance. (In one round, Oscar declares “My talent is confidence” and boldly demands all three judges give him the check mark of approval.) The team-ups visibly rob the competitors of that confidence, as they have to focus on and worry about their partners more than their audience.

That audience also makes a major difference, because the judges are all comedians themselves. Some of the performers admit to being star-struck, and at times they seem intimidated. And the judges can be intimidating! Gianmarco does live up to his Simon Cowell role as the panel’s resident skeptic, though Kumail is also an exacting judge, repeatedly grilling or scoffing at the players and even fact-checking them. It’s deeply satisfying to see him nearly break down in tears when Brian, cannily playing directly to Kumail’s Lord of the Rings fandom, plays a sweet rendition of “Concerning Hobbits” on a recorder.

Because the judges are comedians, though, they’re also playing to the TV audience, and they frequently reject or approve acts based on which response seems funniest in the moment. They sometimes vote on an act before it’s even started, often to mock or insult the performer’s choice of talents or a faltering lead-up explanation. This leads to the episode’s worst call: Maria giving Jake a preemptive thumbs-down for what winds up being a frankly incredible cold-reading routine disguised as a card trick. The payoff to that trick leaves Kumail and Gianmarco screaming, first in thrilled disbelief at what Jake pulls off, then in frustration at Maria’s vote. 

Because the judges largely aren’t pretending to be subjective, they’re fine with swinging the game toward an ending when they get tired. Grant starts that particular groundswell early, after failing to sing an impressively low note and being eliminated in Round 1. (“This is so upsetting up close,” Kumail grumbles, as Grant sings almost directly into Gianmarco’s mouth.) When Grant returns as a judge, he votes thumbs-down on nearly every act. “Trying to move this fucker along,” he grumbles, adding, “Do you guys not wanna leave?” as his fellow ex-players mostly vote to approve their peers’ efforts.

Bit by bit, though, the tide shifts in Grant’s direction. In Round 5, Kaylin’s “talent” is miming her own graphic death. She tells the camera in a filmed confessional afterward, “A talent competition takes you right back to middle school. Absolutely sweaty and afraid. And I want to go home to my mom and dad.” In the same round, Jake attempts to throw the game, refusing to perform and shouting, “I just want to go smoke a joint in my car!” All three judges (and Grant too!) perversely give him the thumbs-up to keep him in play. And when Oscar choreographs a spontaneous dance for the whole cast and leads them through a giddy performance and finishing pose, Maria votes him down, saying, “Oscar, I love you so much, but I gotta go night-night.” 

That fight against fatigue brings some sour notes to the episode, particularly when it means deserving acts get “nope” votes — especially compared to less heartfelt, ambitious, or skillful acts that got a pass earlier in the shoot. Kumail calls Maria out halfway through the game for approving players’ acts based on effort, and toward the end, she vows to be more judgmental. Gianmarco pushes back, though, abandoning his skeptic mode to scream, “I’m saying ‘yes!’ If you guys want, we’ll be here all fucking night. Try me! I got plenty of time! We’re gonna ‘yes’ everybody!” 

But while the cast of competitors is visibly tired, they still throw themselves into cheering for their peers and playing along with whatever talent is being showcased. When Josh offers to “perform any menial task in slow motion” as a talent, the other players mime rapturous applause for his act, also in very funny slo-mo. Zach’s improvised song about the game and its props, parodying The Little Mermaid’s “Part of Your World,” draws ecstatic cheering. When Oscar halfheartedly tries to throw a ball into one of the set’s prop cubes and improbably makes the shot, the whole set goes joyously nuts, with the performers leaping up to embrace him and cavort around him.

Even on a long, tiring shoot, the cast mostly still finds the energy to celebrate each other. When they vote down Kimia, handing the win to Oscar as the titular last talent standing, the rejection comes with conciliatory shouts of “We love you, Kimia!” And Oscar, stunned at his victory, promises to use his winnings to take the whole cast and crew to dinner. It’s a warm ending to what seems like a long night — and a long, wild, particularly outsize season. 

The winner: Oscar Montoya

The prizes: Dinner for 46 people at Chili’s. Not, Sam emphasizes, because Chili’s sponsored this episode, but because he thought it would be funny. Though it’s a lot funnier when the “house band” starts playing a Chili’s jingle and the cast sings along, trying to encourage Chili’s to pony up and support the episode.

Prize rating: 5/5. This one has some real monetary value (and potential social clout!), though as several of the players point out throughout the game, that’s going to be one chaotic, crowded dinner — especially if Oscar really does invite everyone from this shoot.