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NEW YORK — "This fucking day,Backpackers (2022) Full Pinoy Movie Full Movie Online" Patton Oswalt said tonight at the beginning of his hour-long set for the New York Comedy Festival. And all of us in the audience knew what he meant.

Just half a year after the untimely death of his wife, Michelle McNamara, Oswalt has returned to the stage, and he brought all of the turmoil and sorrow that has accompanied these last few months. There, somehow, he spun it into an extraordinary standup show.

Though he performed a few casual setsin small comedy clubs in September and a spot at Festival Supreme this past weekend, Oswalt played his first big set in Manhattan at the Beacon Theater.

He gave a frank, honest and uproarious show to a packed crowd all obviously cheering for him as much as for his jokes.

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As he was introduced by opener Myq Kaplan, the crowd immediately leapt to its feet and greeted the movie/television/standup star with a standing ovation.

And Oswalt launched into his act like nothing monumentally upsetting had happened in his life in the past year.

The beginning of his set felt extremely topical, which added to its achievement. He talked about last night's World Series Game 7. He talked about taking his daughter trick-or-treating. And, yes, of course, he talked about this miserable election.

He even did some crowd work, asking about what people would do for the holidays and kindly skipping people who led seemingly happy lives in search of a crowd member who could inspire some real comic gold.

"I need someone in fucking agony," he said, then gladly found a high school English teacher.

Then, abruptly, he pointed out the elephant that sat in Beacon Theater.

"Six months ago, my wife died," he said.

For the next half hour, Oswalt spoke with stark honesty about how grief had affected him personally and how he worried it is affecting his 7-year old daughter. And truthfully, masterfully, he translated the time dealing with that loss into genuinely great standup. Like, really, great standup.

I've seen all of Oswalt specials and I've always considered him to be immensely funny, but this performance was on another level. I'm sure some of it came from a place of knowing about his loss in detail and reading most everything written about it in the past couple months, including his deeply affecting Facebook post on his loss.

But it definitely didn't feel like I or anyone else in the crowd was laughing out of pity. It was just really good comedy. There hasn't been a whole lot of time since the tragedy, but he turned it into really good, heart-rending stuff.

I found myself tearing up while laughing and not knowing if they were from the jokes or from sadness. The people who I heard sniffle around me probably didn't know either.

He talked about how his daughter's schoolmates didn't have a filter about her loss. He talked about trying to visit the grave for the first time and entering what sounded like a cemetery nightmare. He talked about how strangers approached him and his daughter to express condolences at the worst possible time.

And he made it funny. Either as a way to continue performing, or as a way to find some way to deal with the grief, or probably both, he made it funny. He made a great hour-long set out of a situation which continues to devastate him.

And we, the crowd, wanted to be there for him. At least it seemed like it to me.

We were a support group for one man, or we wanted to be one. It was an odd feeling. There's a lot of pathos and vanity to find there; it can be seen as wanting to pat someone on the back until the bad feelings go away. But there's also truly wanting one person, one stranger, to know he is appreciated and his grief is respected.

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When he lurched into talking about his wife's death, in what he admitted was a sloppy transition, the entirety of the Beacon Theater silenced. We gave him all the sympathy that we could bring and more.

At times, when he discussed the length of his ensuing "numb slog," some in the audience applauded robustly. Not because he made a great joke about it, but, presumably, because they had been there themselves.

Needless to say, it was an extremely emotional set. How could it not be? It brought to mind Tig Notaro's 2012 "Live" standup special in which she immediately admitted to the crowd she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Oswalt's show did not have the stunned immediacy of Notaro's, but it had that bare, bewildered essence of a person not knowing how to handle what life threw at them and wanting to discuss it with a willing group of listeners.

Just last week, he told The New York Timesthat he'll "never be 100 percent again." That sort of candor was draped over the set tonight, but in such a way where he looked the audience in the eye and made it clearly known. There was no way that he could go back into doing standup without addressing his tragedy. He has been very upfront about it in the aftermath, and he didn't want to shy away from it tonight.

Instead, he shared it with this audience. He shared both the actual parts that make you want to weep for all of humanity and the ridiculous, morbid hilarity that can be found in the cruelest of jokes.

And, in the end, for all the tears and all the feelings, I laughed a whole hell of a lot.