Mounsey and Weiss make pieces about both cruelty and authenticity, so it's only natural that they use comedy as their vehicle, given that you can say anything in this country if you claim you're joking. Mounsey talks about a friend's attempted suicide. Maybe it's real, maybe it's not. Cry-laugh emoji. She expresses her own rage and anxiety and physical distress. LOL. Mounsey's unsmiling magnetism drove [50/50], but here the group deliberately absents her from the piece even as it revolves around her. In the first section, she sits in a chair, her iPhone playing a spoken recording next to her. We never hear her speak live, though it's her low voice on the phone. According to the monologue, during the pandemic Julia visited an old friend Brian, who had survived a suicide attempt. They didn't talk about it; they played video games. When Brian made a specially modded avatar of Julia die again and again, Julia said horrible, abusive things to him. Brian then asked her to apologize by writing him a comedy sketch about his attempt to kill himself. "You're a 'writer,' right?" The show we are watching is the result. The show's second part is the "sketch," which consists of Fiddyment and Weiss reading from scripts at a table. They play Brian and Brian's mother, cartoonish characters caught in a nightmare scenario. (Is Brian Fiddyment the Brian from the story? Is any of this okay to talk about?) The mother simultaneously supports and infantilizes Brian, coaxing him to take his bad jokes — "Who is this Rorschach guy and why did he draw all those pictures of my parents fighting?" — on the road. When he fails, he makes a mess in his pants, then throws a room-rattling tantrum … then ties a noose. In the third section, Fiddyment hooks up a television, which fills with a CGI version of Mounsey. He operates Julia's image with a video game controller, while she hides somewhere in the building, murmuring directions through his headphones. As Fiddyment speaks the lines she's feeding him, Mounsey indirectly confesses her own awful misery. Or at least it sounds like the real thing, but, again, this is comedy, and the concept of an actual Julia has grown slippery. The stunning central portion, in which the stone-faced Weiss is absolutely knock-you-down hilarious, grinds comedy's bones. It also (in about twenty minutes) tackles internet culture and, uh, men.