Ranganathan’s instant rapport with his audience is clear from the start, as he manages to tell us ‘Fuck you’ and still have everyone laugh hysterically. This isn’t as unusual as it sounds; there is something strangely comforting about it, as if in making fun of himself for an hour he has earned the right to do the same to his audience.
In the same way that he can nonchalantly insult the audience to their delight, Ranganathan calls his children ‘motherfuckers’
His introspective material tackles the deeper aspects of quotidian experiences, such as a man’s changing relationship with breakfast cereal as he grows older, leading to some worryingly conflicted emotions toward his son, which is presumably reasonable for a father of two - with another on the way - maybe. It is Ranganathan’s dramatisation of his family dynamic, and the guilt he routinely feels as a result of his self-absorption that acts as the driving force behind the show.
In the same way that he can nonchalantly insult the audience to their delight, Ranganathan calls his children ‘motherfuckers’ in a manner reminiscent of Richard Pryor, which makes sense considering he has a tattoo of the late comedian’s face on his forearm.
The comedian brings more serious matters into his set, such as his veganism, and consequent dilemma over whether to buy converse shoes or leather shoes. Again, it is Ranganathan’s repeated articulation of his emotional turmoil with regards to seemingly mundane lifestyle choices which gives his material a depth beyond simply recalling anecdotes for an hour and allows his set to stand out from the crowd.