With billions of views, tens of millions of followers and sold-out shows across the globe, Max Amini has built the kind of comedy career whose statistics can sound almost implausible. Named by Variety as one of the “most watched comedians on the planet,” the Iranian-American performer delivered 2025’s most-watched stand-up special across all platforms with Randomly Selected, while a mammoth international touring schedule saw him sell more than 200,000 tickets across 19 countries and 60 cities.
The milestones have been equally impressive. Amini became the first Iranian-American comedian to headline Madison Square Garden and sell out Los Angeles’ Kia Forum, adding London’s O2 Arena and major Australian venues to a rapidly expanding list of rooms conquered around the world. But for a performer reaching audiences on such an enormous scale, the foundation of his comedy remains surprisingly intimate: listening to another person and being completely present in the conversation.
It’s an approach rooted in the improvisation Amini fell in love with while studying theatre, long before he understood stand-up as an art of carefully constructed storytelling. Today, those two disciplines coexist in a show where written material can suddenly give way to an interaction with a stranger that neither performer nor audience could have anticipated. As Amini explains, practice eventually becomes trust, allowing him to stop analysing the moment and simply “let go and truly play.”
Speaking with our Peter Gray as he arrives in Australia for his latest tour, Amini discussed the delicate art of crowd work, why relatability remains the essential ingredient of comedy, learning to abandon the pressure that can inhibit a performer, and the feeling of hearing an arena-sized audience cheer so loudly that, as he beautifully puts it, “it gets into your bones.”
You’ve become incredibly good at making a stranger feel like they’ve accidentally volunteered to become a character in your show. When you’re looking around a room, what gives someone away? What makes you think, “Oh, there’s something there?”
There is an understanding of what the red lines are. It’s not so much an instinct as it is an understanding of where those lines are and what you can and can’t do. Comedy is joy. It’s about connecting with your fans and the people in the audience, and it’s all done in very good taste. If that wasn’t the case, then this would never work. The reason people come and enjoy themselves is because everybody is on the same page. There’s a clear understanding.
Is it spontaneous? Absolutely. You’re having a conversation with somebody you don’t know, and that conversation can go in whatever direction it possibly can. You have no idea where it’s going to go, and that’s what makes it so much fun. Out of every show that I do, there are certain moments that are just outstanding because nobody could have really thought of that idea beforehand. And then, boom, something happens and it becomes really special. Those are the moments we select.
I was wired this way my whole life. I started my career very young, right out of high school. I chose theatre in college – I was a theatre major – and I did a lot of improv. I had an improv troupe, and I just loved improvising. It was part of my human design in so many ways.
At that young age, I actually thought stand-up comedy was all improvised. Then I got into stand-up and discovered the art of stand-up – the storytelling, the writing and the crafting of material. So I brought this love of improvisation that I’d had from a young age, and then I learned how to craft my stories as a comedian.
My show has the best of both worlds. I bring that improvisational mentality and my personality to the stage, which makes every show unique to that particular moment, and then I mix that with the stories I’ve written for my audience.
Going off that, I feel like comedy can so often be described as universal. But then comedy is also so incredible specific. An Iranian mother isn’t necessarily funny for the same reasons as an Australian father is. Do you think the more culturally specific you’ve become, the more universal the comedy has become as well?
Well, I have a very large international audience, and ultimately, you’re absolutely correct in the sense that there are a lot of nuances that are unique to each individual. But comedy really has only one way of working, and that is relatability. If you can relate to the topic, no matter how personal it may be to that comedian, then you’re going to laugh with them.
A comedian’s performance has to be relatable. If the audience can’t relate to them, then that show isn’t going to work. That comedian isn’t going to find themselves in the right place with that audience because what they’re talking about simply isn’t relevant to those people.
For me, I feel like I perform a very universal kind of comedy. The stories from my life and the things that I talk about don’t depend on what language you speak, what country or culture you come from, or what your background is. People are able to relate to them because they’re human stories. They’re not necessarily stories that are unique to my own personal background.
Anyone who has been to my shows or seen my work knows that I talk about life. I’m a storyteller. I talk about different events, different experiences and the things that happen to us in life, and people can relate to that. That’s ultimately how we’re able to laugh together and how we connect.
There’s a lot of conversation about how comedy heals people. Do you see a difference between healing someone with comedy and then simply just giving them relief with laughter?
Yes, they kind of go hand in hand. When you laugh, you release all these endorphins and serotonin. You have these happy hormones that are created through laughter, and you release tension. So, in a way, you’re healing yourself at the same time. It’s magic. Comedy is complete magic.
Not only do you heal yourself, but you connect with other people, you learn different things about life, and you walk away feeling better. You’re able to release some of that pressure you may have been dealing with before you walked into the venue, and then you leave with some new perspectives and a much better feeling.
Whether you watch comedy live or you watch it on your phone, either way, I think we all have a responsibility to find an excuse to laugh every day. I say this at every show. Whenever I get the opportunity, I mention it: find an excuse to laugh every day.
Life is full of challenges, and we owe it to ourselves to find those opportunities to release some of that pressure, give our brains and our bodies a break, and bring in some of those good endorphins. Laughter gives us that opportunity.
You mentioned how you thought of stand-up comedy as just improv, and there’s a real paradox in that because when you’re starting improve you’re trying to convince a room of strangers you’re funny, and now you’re standing in front of thousands of people that have decided you’re already funny. Is there an audience you feel is harder to perform to?
It’s a great question. I’m very grateful that you asked it that way. I feel like it depends on where you are in your career – or, a better way of saying that is, it depends on your growth within your art form.
I just don’t think about that anymore. Maybe when I was younger, there was that pressure. I’d walk into a venue and think, ‘I’ve sold out a thousand-seat house. Oh my God, I’ve got to deliver a great show.’ But nowadays, I don’t think that way. I just show up and deliver my show. So I think it depends on what stage you’re at and what phase of growth you’re in with your art.
The other thing I can add – and I think this is very important – is that, at some point as an artist, you realise that pressure is only going to take the best out of you. You learn not to allow those types of thoughts into your mind because they don’t do anything good for you.
You become more focused on simply showing up in the moment, connecting and performing. It’s another level of understanding your art form, and I think that happens naturally. Eventually, you begin to understand all of those little things that might be holding you back, and as you grow, you learn to get rid of that type of thinking. That’s probably the best way I can put it.
I want to ask about the craft behind the crowed work, because it fascinates me how spontaneous it can look and it creates that illusion that you’re coming up with the joke at the same moment as the audience is. What’s actually happening in your brain during those few seconds when you can see where the joke is going?
I’ll tell you, I think the first part of what you said is accurate. You’re coming up with the joke right there with the audience. But as for what’s happening in my head, I’m really just listening intently and responding accordingly. If you’re not truly present in that moment and in that interaction, you’re not going to find great comedy. The comedy is going to suffer. It’s the same when you’re playing improv, and great acting works the same way. If you’re truly immersed in the moment, the comedy will come to you because it’s being created right there in that moment.
Everybody can relate to this through their friendships. Picture yourself with friends you’re completely comfortable with, the people you laugh with all the time. You’re not thinking about what you’re going to say. You’re just there, responding. Your friend says something, you say something back and they laugh. They say something else, you laugh, and all of a sudden you find yourselves rolling on the floor because the two of you are going back and forth. You’re not analysing it. If you get into your head, you lose the moment and you lose that spontaneity. That’s the art of improvisation.
A lot of it also comes from practice, and that practice eventually becomes trust. When you’ve done something enough, it becomes second nature. You’re playing – it’s complete play. But it depends on your level of comfort with who you are and the space you’re in. You have to be comfortable enough to let go and truly play.
That’s the best way I can describe the sensation and the mental process of doing crowd work.
It’s an incredibly thing to master when you see how wrong or right it can go. For you, if you’re rescuing a joke that isn’t working, is that harder than rescuing an audience member who suddenly realises that they’ve told you more about their life than they intended to?
No. Every comedian is different, but if you’re ever in one of my rooms, you realise there isn’t really a sense of something not working. I’m not a one-liner comedian where I have three jokes that land hard and then one that only gets a chuckle. I’m a performer, and mine is a very conversational kind of performance. You’re hanging out, you’re laughing, we’re talking – it’s an ongoing conversation.
As far as the crowd work goes, the intention has to be very clear to the audience. It’s one thing to see comedy clips online, and it’s another thing entirely to actually be in the venue. The reason those comedy clips work is because the people in the room are extremely comfortable and on the same page as the performer. They know that your intention comes from a place of love and joy, and they’re with you. That’s why all of those moments are able to happen.
When you only see a clip, you might wonder, ‘Is there another side to this? How did that person actually feel?’ But you don’t really know until you’re there. It’s like a party you didn’t go to and you’re just looking at the pictures on social media. You create an idea in your head of how great the party was or how bad it was. Then you talk to somebody who was actually there and they say, ‘Oh my God, the party was fantastic. The pictures looked bad, but it was great!’ Or it could be the complete opposite.
It’s that sort of thing. So, to sum it up, the intention has to be clear. When the audience understands where you’re coming from and what your intention is, they’re going to be with you for the whole ride.
It’s very much that classic case of “clickbait” that we all know when we see a clip go viral and we know there’s more to it. And you’ve reached these landmarks that sound absurd; Madison Square Garden, O2, billions of views. Is there anything that still scares you?
You know, I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I’ve never really been scared of anything when it comes to performing. I’m always excited. Of course, you have those butterflies. I think when I played my first arena, I probably felt more pressure, and I found myself trying to psycho-analyse what I was feeling. It wasn’t that I was scared. I’d already been doing this for 20-something years – I’ve been a performer for 24 years – so I’d played a lot of rooms, a lot of big theatres and different venues.
But when I played my first arena, which was The Forum in Los Angeles, there was an ambiguity about how the room was going to feel. I remember sitting in my green room thinking, ‘I’m going to play this story this way. I’m going to play that one that way.’ I was arranging my thoughts and contemplating what was going to hit harder and how much of everything I should do.
Then, honestly, when I went on stage, it was just like every other show. You manoeuvre in that moment in whatever way you think is best. I’ll give you an example: my crowd work is less in an arena than it is in a theatre because, in an arena, there’s an attention span that you can feel. Again, if you’re connected to the moment, you understand how much of everything you need. So I play the room. I’ll tell some stories, do some bits, then come back and have a little more of that spontaneous conversation before going back into the stories.
You feel the room, and you have a great show when you have that connection to the energy of the space. With my first arena, that was the most ambiguous part. That was what gave me those thoughts and butterflies: ‘Okay, how is this going to go?’ But then the second, third and fourth arenas became more exciting.
I can’t tell you how excited I was to go on stage at Madison Square Garden. I was ready. I was excited. My staff and everybody else were nervous and running around, but I was just waiting to hit the stage. I watched my openers, and they were having a ball. The room is magnificent. Madison Square Garden has an incredible atmosphere, and the energy is phenomenal.
It was the same when I played the O2 in London. I was excited. I feel like British audiences are so much fun in so many ways, but they’re also so proper, which is a great combination.
And now I’m in Australia. I just landed in Melbourne, and I’m doing three arena shows here and three arena shows in Sydney. I’m so excited to play them because Australian audiences have such high energy. Now that I understand how arenas work, I know these shows are going to be fun. There’s a feeling you get on that stage, and I guess that’s the best way to describe what I’m excited about. I know how epic the room is. I know how epic the sound is. The cheer of the audience gets into your bones. It’s such a ride and such a beautiful connection that I cannot wait.
I didn’t know I was going to sell three arena shows in Melbourne and three in Sydney, so that makes it even more fun because I get to experience the arena and then play it again and again. There’s something so cool about getting to play the same room, especially somewhere that big, multiple times, because you know it’s just going to get better and better and better.
For more information on Max Amini’s Australian tour and available tickets, head to his official site here.
- August 13-14 (3 shows) – Melbourne – Margaret Court Arena
- August 15 (2 shows) – Brisbane – Convention and Exhibition Centre
- August 17 (2 shows) – Adelaide – Thebarton Theatre
- August 18 – Sydney – Tik Tok Entertainment Centre
- August 20 (2 shows) – Perth – HPC
- August 22 (2 shows) – Sydney – Tik Tok Entertainment Centre
