The Therapeutic Application of Nathan Fielder’s “The Rehearsal”— Part 1

“I’m not good at meeting people for the first time. I’ve been told my personality can make people uncomfortable so I have to work to offset that. Humor is my go-to instinct, but every joke is a gamble.” — Nathan Fielder

SPOILERS AHEAD: This piece contains spoilers for Season 1, Episode 1 of The Rehearsal — “Orange Juice, No Pulp.” If you haven’t watched the entire series, I HIGHLY recommend you stop reading now.

Two weeks ago, I had no idea who Nathan Fielder was. It seems I’ve spent the majority of his career giving birth, changing diapers and being a go-fer for snacks, which doesn’t leave a lot of time to watch Comedy Central or HBO.But two weeks ago, a friend asked if I was watching The Rehearsal, and I was intrigued. My husband didn’t make it 5 minutes into the first episode before he had to tap out. Cringe comedy makes him want to climb out of his skin.

When I watched the opening minutes of “Orange Juice, No Pulp,” I thought, “Okay, quirky. This might be fun.” By minute 5, I wasn’t sure if Fielder was a genius or a stalker. I kept texting another friend who had also seen it: “Is this real? Is it scripted? What is this?” “KEEP WATCHING,” was the only reply.

On a level, I can absolutely understand why some people would consider the content of the show unethical. I get it. But watching Fielder shoot skeet with the first participant on the show, Kor Skeet [with blanks, in an effort to create an opportunity for bonding and trust building] didn’t strike me as manipulative, it struck me as a genuine attempt at connection — by someone who wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.

In order to make the most of the rehearsing opportunity, Fielder creates a perfect replica of the bar where Skeet will meet his friend to tell her the truth — down to the rips in specific chairs, and spices in spice racks. Overkill? Maybe for some, but through an neurodiverse (ND) lens, it’s necessary for predicting every possible scenario.

While rehearsing later in the first episode, Skeet appears ready to risk his opportunity to confess his lie to his friend because he’s hung up on getting the bar’s trivia questions correct. Fielder sighs, but doesn’t bat an eye at concocting an elaborate (neurotypicals may say unnecessary) solution in order to meet Skeet exactly where he is.

“But maybe it’s more unethical to leave things to chance, when there’s something you could have done.”

Then during the penultimate act of the episode, the actress playing Skeet’s friend rehearses reacting very poorly, storming out of the bar, and the individuals playing patrons at the bar loudly announce they heard he had lied about his education, AND the trivia host announces it over the sound system. A worst-case scenario for anyone coming clean about a decade-long lie, no matter how small. Fielder walks Skeet out of the building to check on him, to make sure he’s okay. Skeet says he still wants to continue even though he might lose a friendship in the process. As I watched, I couldn’t help but think this would be an incredibly therapeutic and practical way to walk a client through a conflict. It isn’t very different from Gestalt therapy — role playing and assisting clients play out what might happen, and applying skills in the moment. Fielder’s experiment simply attempts to account for every variable, down to the partially deflated smiley face balloon.

In the end of the episode, Skeet is able to come clean to his friend, who takes it in the most unpredictable way possible — completely well and fine. She even reassures Skeet when he says he felt inferior and insecure when compared to the education of the rest of their trivia team. As a result, Skeet ends up spending the next hour and a half disclosing things to his decades-long friend that he had never told her. The rehearsal empowered Skeet, and through predictability, gave way to vulnerability.

The cherry on the sundae is at the end, when we learn Fielder has rehearsed coming clean to Skeet about planting the trivia answers, and doesn’t in the end. Having been told by the fake rehearsal Skeet “ You’re an awful person, you’ve tainted this whole thing for me,” it’s clear Fielder isn’t prepared to handle that kind of rejection from real Skeet. So instead he “comes clean” about not affirming people enough, and tells Skeet what a good person he is. The blank stare from Fielder is the same one I have when trying to make sure my facial expression matches what I’m trying to express. By the time “Pure Imagination” starts to play, I had goosebumps.

“Maybe it’s easier to choose a path when you can live the future first. To free yourself from doubt and regret. To always know the answers.”

It’s a masterclass in reading the room. It’s a graduate-level class for NDs who want a formula to predict how every scenario will play out. And over the course of the season, we get to see how accurate it turns out to be.