When Mo Amer decided that he wanted to become a comedian, there was never a question about where he might find the best material. After all, he grew up in Texas with the name Mohammed.
Stories about his familyâs assimilation pains, Americaâs warped view of Muslims and how chocolate hummus is âa hate crimeâ have been spun into Amerâs packed live shows, televised specials such as Netflixâs âMo Amer: The Vagabondâ and his sets with the Allah Made Me Funny troupe. Now the Palestinian American performer has poured his life into the semiautobiographical Netflix series âMo,â a new eight-part comedy he co-created with Ramy Youssef.
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The show follows a Muslim immigrant named Mo (played by Amer, of course) who was born in Kuwait and raised in working-class Houston, where he still lives with his mother and brother. Mo has been awaiting asylum since they all arrived in the U.S. when he was 9. The fear of being caught by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the pride he has in his misunderstood Palestinian heritage and the universal longing to fit in are the springboard for a bittersweet comedy that dares to venture into dark emotional territory.
The real Mo is a lot like the fictional one: He speaks English, Arabic and Spanish, loves hip-hop and at one point sold knockoff designer fashions from the trunk of his car to survive. Today, however, Amer has a booming stand-up career, his own show and a role in the upcoming DC superhero film âBlack Adam.â The 41-year-old performer spoke with The Times about what it took to make the first-ever Palestinian American sitcom. (The following has been edited for length and clarity.)
We surveyed The Times TV team to come up with a list of the 75 best TV shows you can watch on Netflix. As in, tonight.
Your character, Mo, is Houston through and through. He loves the city, the food, the people. He listens to local rappers. He drinks lean. But heâs also an immigrant, and thatâs a huge part of his story. He presents a unique combo for a comedy series.
Yes, and he has a painstakingly long immigration story. But in reality, itâs every manâs story. I donât want to be corny, but itâs a story of struggle, a story of identity. Itâs a story of wanting to fit in and feel cool. It has all these layers in it where really anybody can truly connect with it. You donât have to be an Arab or Palestinian or Muslim or Christian. It doesnât matter. That was the intent of the show and thatâs usually what the response is when someone hears my own story â they feel very empathetic towards it and relate to it in some way.
Yet your Palestinian heritage factors hugely into the series. Mo loves his momâs hand-pressed olive oil. He makes jokes that he should be good at throwing rocks. His family is stateless and heâs haunted by the torture his late father suffered when displaced in Kuwait.
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I tip my hat to my mentor Danny Martinez, who always told me to write universal and be universal. It doesnât mean be hacky or boring. No, it means being grounded in your own perspective and culture but having that nuance. Where itâs truly universal is where the magic trick is.
âMoâ is truly the first comedy of its kind. How do you do something that hasnât really been done before?
Thereâs no blueprint for it. Even when collaborators asked how I envisioned the tone of the show, it was, âOK, who am I?â I listen to a little bit of Palestinian folk music and I love bluegrass, and Iâm a little bit blues and hip-hop. A little bit chopped and screwed.
What inspired you to move from stand-up to series comedy?
Iâve been thinking about the show since I was a baby. I was 14 or 15 years old when I started writing the show. I was thinking about putting [some of the ideas] in a special and then some friends who I respect immensely said, âNo, you need to save this and put it in a TV show.â OK, Iâll do that. So I kept banking all these stories and ideas until we sold the show and started getting into it. You donât realize how hard it is across eight episodes to keep the right balance. The seasoning throughout story lines, character backgrounds, several different origin stories. This story of belonging, the story of yearning to belong somewhere, to feel accepted and trusted.
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Your very ethnicity is often politicized due to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. How do you navigate that tension, or play with it, in your comedy?
I donât know what youâre talking about. [laughs] Just bringing up the topic alone makes anything hyper-political, so it was more about focusing on the relationships in the show. For instance, in the show thereâs the Arab uncle and the Israeli uncle together [at the cafe]. They are always at each otherâs throats, but theyâre best friends in some weird way.
And when they argue about the conflict, Mo refers to them as Arafat and Rabin. He asks if theyâre making a podcast. Itâs hilarious.
Thereâs no need to be aggressively political. Itâs more about sprinkling certain things throughout the season. You have a Palestinian family on television. Let the characters speak to that experience and that will humanize everything and give people a reference and a face. There has been no face. No reference. Itâs just images online, so people donât know.
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Many of your fans have commented on social media that they never thought theyâd see the day when a show like yours made it to series.
I saw it the whole time. Everybody else just needed to catch up. Iâve always been here. These stories have always been present. It was frustrating. You have to be patient and just keep writing. Thatâs the best advice I can give to myself and anybody else. Just keep writing, no matter what, and consider it like itâs a savings account. You donât know when youâre going withdraw from it.
Thereâs also a great moment when Mo walks into a Catholic Church at the urging of his Mexican American girlfriend, Maria (played by Teresa Ruiz), and gives confession to a priest played by local rapper Bun B.
I think itâs just a beautiful thread. He trusts his girlfriend. Then we see a Muslim man walking into a church struggling with his beliefs and letting go of those things because in his mind itâs like, âMaybe this is a good thing because thereâs anonymity here. Maybe it will be good for me to talk to someone that doesnât know who I am and doesnât, you know, look me in the face.â And being Palestinian ⌠Jesus was Palestinian, from Nazareth. This is a crazy overlooked fact. Itâs pretty wild seeing Moâs discomfort, getting rocked by someone whoâs completely outside of his religion. But he does get something out of it.
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What made you want to be a comedian?
Itâs a very easy answer. I saw stand-up comedy live for the first time at the Astrodome when I was 9 or 10. My brother took me to a livestock show and rodeo to get my mind off things. Iâd only been in the States, like, four-some-odd months. The show was co-headlined by the band Alabama and Bill Cosby. That was my first time I ever saw stand-up comedy and it was at the height of Cosbyâs fame â like âThe Cosby Show.â It was the first time Iâd ever been introduced to the art form: âWait, you can get on stage, express yourself in any way and tell any story, and talk about politics?â Like, what?! Iâd never seen this before. I knew immediately that thatâs what I was supposed to do for a living. I told my brother that, and he was like, âYeah, OK.â âBut no, you donât understand. This is what Iâm going to be!â
Life gave you plenty of material.
Oh, my God! Iâm a Mohammed in Texas! Touring the South pre-9/11, as a teenager, I was the only one that had ever done that. I realized very quickly that people were having a cultural experience with me. Not only are they laughing with me and having a blast and wanting to hang out, theyâre intrigued.
What else are you working on?
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A ton. Iâm in the âBlack Adamâ movie and Iâm gonna tour after the release of this special podcast â I made a deal with Luminary, who I am recording with currently. And Iâm quietly filming a movie right now. Iâm not gonna say what it is. Iâm also writing stuff constantly, working on Season 2 of âMoâ in my mind.
Do you ever sleep?
I slept two days ago. I got five hours, which is pretty much standard at this point. I think Iâll get a stretch of, like, eight hours here soon. Itâs going to be amazing. I canât wait.
Lorraine Ali is news and culture critic of the Los Angeles Times. Previously, she was television critic for The Times covering media, breaking news and the onslaught of content across streaming, cable and network TV. Ali is an award-winning journalist and Los Angeles native who has written in publications ranging from the New York Times to Rolling Stone and GQ. She was formerly senior writer for The Timesâ Calendar section where she covered entertainment, culture, and American Arab and Muslim issues. Ali started at The Times in 2011 as music editor after leaving her post as a senior writer and music critic at Newsweek Magazine.