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She has a polished, hugely charismatic stage presence, especially when she deploys her razor-sharp ear for mimicry.
They play in harmony with each other, layered on top of one another.
But its most meaningful and effective when Orji embodies it.
Half of the joke is often in watching a comedian re-create a scene, watching them enact other voices.
Orji does this too.
She has mountains of material on her parents and on the differences between Nigerians and black Americans.
She tells jokes about her own fame in her home country and about how Nigerians cant tell directions.
But the introduction of Orjis actual mother into the special then feels like gilding the lily.
Instead, those documentary moments become a box-ticking exercise.
She told a joke, and the joke was accurate!
Early in the show, Orjis doing a joke on bargaining in Nigerian marketplaces.
After being offered an absurdly high price for something, Orji says, buyers should immediately show their disdain.
Because its you, just give me … oh …
I dont know, give me 50,000, Orji says, pretending to be the seller.
Youve gotta feel immediately insulted, she explains.
I cant even think!
Orji says in the voice of the pained subject.
A stupidwhat?Me?
A phrase initially unknown to many of them has become a unifying chorus.
The documentary footage is unnecessary; Orji can say plenty on her own.
