Jo Koy on ‘Blue in the Face,’ Steven Spielberg, Biggie’s Mom and Learning What His Name Really Means at Long John Silver’s

Jo Koy had a speech ready when he walked onstage in Stockton, Calif.

It was his first time in the Central Valley city, and before taping the two sold-out arena shows that became his new Netflix special, he went looking for its Filipino history. He found plenty: “No Filipinos allowed” signs on restaurants, water fountains Filipinos weren’t allowed to drink from and the Little Manila neighborhood later split by a freeway. “There were a lot of fucked-up things that happened,” he tells me, before apologizing for the language. “It just really sucked.”

The plan was to open by hitting all of it hard. Then, the minute he walked out, the crowd gave him a standing ovation.

“I saw this white guy high-five this Asian guy, and a Black guy was standing and this Black lady over here, Latinos over here and a Filipino right here,” he says. “And I was just like, no, man, I’m not gonna do this.” He made the call on the spot. “What happened in the past is the past, but look where we are now.”

That’s what he brought to his comedy special “Jo Koy: Blue in the Face,” which premiered Sept. 15 on Netflix and completes the two-special deal he signed with the streamer in 2023. Koy edits his own specials, cutting two shows that each ran more than two hours down to 55 minutes and shaping the hour like a bookend around one idea: Keep your circle tight and celebrate the people who celebrated you.

The special is a contender in the Golden Globes’ best performance in stand-up comedy on television category, and it will enter the Emmy race for outstanding variety special (pre-recorded) next year. Koy joined me for a conversation after a Variety Screening Series presentation of the special, and he came with plenty of stories.

He talked about the phone call he got from Voletta Wallace, the Notorious B.I.G.’s mother, who died in February 2025, after he performed an uncleared Biggie bit in “Live From Brooklyn” and had to pay for the songs. He described a day at Amblin when everyone from the lobby to a hallway lined with Indiana Jones memorabilia told him “Steven” loved “Comin’ in Hot,” leaving him to wonder whether they meant someone in accounting. They meant Oscar-winning Steven Spielberg, and the meeting landed Koy the DreamWorks deal that became “Easter Sunday.”

And of course, there’s his mother, the single mom who cursed out a man at a shoe store in 1984 for mocking her accent and who built her Filipino community by walking up to strangers at church.
He also shared the origin of his stage name, which he didn’t understand until years later, over a meal at Long John Silver’s: His Auntie Evelyn had never called him “Jo Koy.” She was saying “Jo ko,” which means “my Jo” in Tagalog.

Even the special’s title came by accident. His director, Shannon Hartman, suggested “Blue in the Face,” and the teal stage he nearly rejected happened to match it. Then fans started sending him photos of their dogs glued to the special, and his manager offered a theory about the color.

“It’s all coming together,” Koy says.

He also owes Variety some lumpia, preferably his mother’s.

Why did you want to film the special in Stockton?

On tour, you have your prime markets — the Bay Area, New York, L.A. — and people think a special has to be shot in a big market. But in these secondary markets, people come out, man. They want to go to a show and be a part of it. When I finally got to Stockton, people were like, “Oh, you’re going to Stockton? Be careful.” Then we sold out two arenas, and the crowd was amazing.

It was my first time there, and I found so much Filipino history: the first immigrants who set foot there and the racism they had to put up with. Restaurants had “No Filipinos allowed” signs. They weren’t allowed to drink out of certain water fountains. They built Little Manila, and then that got displaced and a freeway went down the middle of it. A lot of fucked-up things happened. I’m sorry to curse. It just really sucked.
So I wanted to shine a light on it. I wanted to come to this town and say, “I know what happened in the past was really bad, but look how far we’ve come as a people. Through all that adversity, now there’s a Filipino son up there and it’s like, hey, we did it.”

Backstage, my plan was to come out and hit that hard, then ease into the special. And I swear to God, Clayton, the minute I walked out, they gave me a standing ovation. We didn’t ask for that. I saw this white guy high-five this Asian guy, and a Black guy was standing and this Black lady over here, Latinos over here and a Filipino right here. And I was just like, no, man, I’m not gonna do this. That’s not what this is. What happened in the past is the past, but look where we are now. Let’s take it from here. I made that decision onstage.

You filmed over two nights. When you watch it back, can you tell which night is which?

On all my specials, the second night is always the best because I got it out of the way. Whatever idea I had for the special, I get it out on the first night. The second night is where I have fun and freestyle. There were jokes that night I literally just came up with.

Walk me through the life of a joke. Is there a four-hour Jo Koy cut out there somewhere?

There’s a lot. Both shows were over two hours, and I cut it down to 55 minutes. I always want my specials to have a story — I know it sounds cheesy — like a bookend. I want to start here, have everything connect and end here. And this one, I really wanted Fred … [He pauses, tearing up.] God, I hate this.

The whole story was keeping your circle tight. Get the crabs out of your life. Celebrate your wins and the people who celebrated you. That’s how I wanted to start and how I wanted to end. That was the whole idea behind “Blue in the Face.” All right, I’m done. Sorry about that.

“Blue in the Face” completes the two-special deal you signed with Netflix in 2023. The first was “Live From Brooklyn.”

I crushed Brooklyn, man. I did a Biggie bit there, and we weren’t supposed to because I’d never cleared the songs. I promised everyone I wouldn’t. Then I was in this Brooklyn moment, and as I’m doing it, I’m like, “Oh, fuck. I have to pay for these songs.” And we had to.

But that bit went so huge that I ended up on the phone with Mrs. Wallace. She said, “Thank you for keeping my son’s legacy alive. It’ll always be on Netflix, and generations after this will always see his body of work. I love you for that.” And I go, “You’re welcome, Mrs. Wallace. He was a king, and he was my hero. And of course it’s going to be on Netflix, because you charged me so much money for this song.”

She gave me the rights to his face, the one where he’s wearing a crown. I can use it forever. I never have to ask. And for every shirt, we donate to the Wallace Foundation.

So what comes after this? A new deal, a new home, a break from the one-hour format?

I haven’t signed another deal yet. This one just ended. But I love Netflix. I’ve known everybody over there for a long time, and creatively, they respect my decisions. It’s fun to submit something, and they press play.

You also voice a character in “Forgotten Island.” After “Easter Sunday,” what did you learn about how Hollywood tells Filipino stories?

Do you know how I got “Easter Sunday?” Steven Spielberg watched “Comin’ in Hot,” my special in Hawaii. We literally got a call, and that’s how I got my deal with DreamWorks. I pitched the idea that my mom and my aunt haven’t spoken in something like 25 years. I talk about it onstage, how every holiday I have to pick: “OK, I can go see Auntie Evelyn at 3, then come here for dinner at 6.” There’s constant drama in our family, but Easter Sunday is the one thing that finally brings us together.

Then the pandemic hit the minute I got the deal. We shot in Vancouver when it opened up, with everyone six feet apart and auditions on Zoom. Then we waited for theaters to reopen, like everyone else, so we were up against all the movies that were supposed to come out before the pandemic. My release was with “Maverick,” “Jurassic World,” “Minions,” “Thor” and “Easter Sunday.” It was the craziest week. But I held on for three weeks, so that was dope.

With “Forgotten Island,” I loved everything about it. We got to do an animated movie at a major studio with all these great people backing it. Plus, it’s the folklore. When I was a kid, that’s all I heard — don’t step on the duwende. And now here I am taking my kid to watch something my grandma used to talk about.

Your mom has been your best character for 20 years. What was her review of this latest special?

She always has one. And she’s big because of it. By the way, my impersonation of her is no caricature. It’s not exaggerated at all. If I’m next to her and you turn the lights off, you wouldn’t know who’s my mom. I’m not embellishing any stories. These are things my mom did, and I’m just reliving them.

What’s your favorite mom story you’ve told?

The shoe store. I was messing up the shoes, and the guy cursed at me and that pissed my mom off. She said, “Don’t talk to my son like that.” Then he made fun of her accent. It’s 1984, and he’s making fun of her to her face and she goes, “Oh, you’re making fun of my accent, huh? I speak two languages in your country, Tagalog and English. How many do you speak? One. You’re stupid.” To see my mom, a single mom, do that in the ’80s, you’re like, oh, fuck. That’s when I got scared of my mom. She never backed away from a fight.

She was very prideful too. There was no Facebook, no Instagram. She had to find her community. We’d go to church, and she would literally walk up to brown people: “Pilipino ka? Pilipino rin ako.” And boom, now she’s got a friend. Those people are her best friends to this day. Then they started renting out the Knights of Columbus hall for potlucks, and all the kids would perform. I saw my mom’s hustle every Sunday, and I got excited because I got to hang out with other Filipino kids and eat food nobody knew about yet. Now everyone knows about Filipino food. Not back then.

Deserted island. You can take three stand-up specials from all of history. What are they?

Richard Pryor’s “Live in Concert,” the Long Beach one. I didn’t know what a comedian was until my neighbor gave me that tape and said, “No, you’re a comedian.” Then I was addicted to Richard.
Then Eddie Murphy’s “Delirious.” People think he was a full-grown 40-year-old man. He was a kid right out of high school. Some of it’s a little immature — well, no shit, he’s a kid! But the way he owned that stage, and the confidence when he delivered his lines, was amazing. And he was so handsome. I wanted a red leather suit like this cat.

Then Chris Rock’s “Bring the Pain.” It wasn’t only super funny; it was a cultural moment. He made everyone rethink and see things differently. And there are countless others.

10 QUESTIONS WITH JOY KOY

Childhood nickname?

At school they called me Herbert. But my Auntie Evelyn calls me “Jo ko.” Her daughter Mona is my best friend, and when I was doing open mics as Joseph Herbert, they’d always make a joke or say it wrong. I told Mona, “I gotta change my name, dude.” And right then, Auntie Evelyn goes, “Jo ko, eat!” It sounded like “Jo Koy.” We both looked at each other: “Oh yeah. Jo Koy.”

Years later, everyone kept asking me what “Jo Koy” meant and I’d say, “I don’t know. My aunt just calls me that.” So I took her out to eat and asked her why. She’s like, “I don’t call you Jo Koy. You keep fucking saying that. It’s ‘Jo ko.’” “Ko” means “my.” My Jo. We were at Long John Silver’s on Maryland Parkway, and I started crying.

Karaoke or shower song?

Karaoke would always be Harry Connick Jr.’s “We Are in Love.”

Give me an alternate title for “Blue in the Face.”

I wanted to call it “Live From Stockton.”

Secret talent?

Editing. I crush it in the bay. I edit all my specials, and this one was like a puzzle because there were big bits. I don’t like obvious audience cuts, where you cut to the fans and, boom, now I’ve moved over to the left. I’ll find a way to merge two bits together through a camera. It takes a long, long time. I’ll be in that bay for days. No sleep. Just fart and spit.

Favorite ice cream flavor?

Peanut butter from McConnell’s, with dark chocolate. It’s like a frozen Reese’s. And I’m lactose intolerant, so I’m willing to sacrifice my stomach. I don’t care.

One item you couldn’t live without?

Oh, man. I guess tequila.

What TV show or film in history do you wish you’d been a cast member of?

“Beat Street.” Rocking a Kangol and some fat laces. That’d be sick.

Which fictional character you most relate to or admire?

That’s a tough one. I guess Bugs Bunny. That writing doesn’t exist anymore. Those guys were good. Sometimes racist, but if they could edit that part out.

Favorite piece of advice you’ve given or received?

Try everything. Whatever’s in your gut, do it. You only live once, so why listen to anything outside your gut? Whatever dream you have, pursue it and don’t listen to anybody else. And when you fall down and fail, get back up and do it again, because you’re doing something no one else did. You tried. Believe me, a lot of people are jealous when you try. They thrive on you failing, and they’re the first ones to speak up, because they’ll never try. I don’t want to live life going, “Oh, I wish I had done that.” I want to be like, “I did that.”

Ooh, that was a bar.

The conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.