ONLY MERE seconds into a Zoom call—there are technical errors, of course—and Drew Tarver could very easily be doing a bit.
“Sorry, uh, am I… echoing? Man, it’s so weird. Let me leave and come right back.”
He’s not joking—there really are unforeseen problems. But the moment is reminiscent of an early-season scene from Tarver’s hit comedy series The Other Two where his character, the sardonic and increasingly-narcissistic Cary Dubek, has lined up an audition for a small role in a highly-anticipated Wes Anderson film. Told to be “perfectly centered” while impatiently awaiting the director’s arrival, he’s shocked to see Maze Runner star Dylan O’Brien join the call with his own inability to understand how the video platform works.
This time, it’s Tarver who is having the problems. And while he’s now Drew and not Cary, there’s a natural dry humor that comes from him, even through the most mundane of everyday experiences.
While his appearance during the on-screen call was pretty much the opposite of his interview look (black sweatshirt, a little scruffy, hair sticking up in a few places), his naturally humorous demeanor remains consistent.
That humor was always a trick he had in his back pocket. But it wasn’t until later that Tarver, now 37, realized that it could become his identity—an oh-shit-I-might-make-money-from-this—kind of thing. “It almost felt scary to me in a way,” he says. “It was this realization that this is becoming my thing. But how do you do it for a job?”
Some might recognize Tarver from his on-stage improv antics — “You can’t rely on a long chin beard to help you get laughs,” he says when reminiscing about a messy sketch he’d been a part of years back — but if you’ve seen his other work, you know his biggest talent comes from a blend of that signature dry wit, some enthusiasm, and the slightest dash of natural obliviousness.
On The Other Two, which began on Comedy Central back in 2018 before moving to Max (formerly known as HBO Max) for Seasons 2 and 3, Tarver’s Cary is one of three children in a family caught in a whirlwind of unexpected fame and notoriety, thanks to the sudden fame of youngest brother Chase. The first season wraps with Cary questioning how he can achieve success on his own, fully immersing himself in the heat of unexpected attention. He, somewhat predictably, finds it to be sometimes rewarding, and sometimes offputting.
By Season 3, Cary eventually commits to “riding the wave,” as his sister, the also-floundering Brooke (Helené Yorke) says. But as the show dives deeper and deeper, we’re left to question if Cary has unknowingly overstepped by choosing himself, prioritizing his own wants and needs in a way that’s begun to exile him from the parts of his life he was never looking to separate from.
Cary’s confidence has grown tenfold over the course of the show’s run, booking actual film gigs instead of press for burrito blogs and embarrassing fart-smelling commercials. He’s fully embraced his sexuality as a gay man, diving penis-first into the New York City queer scene (even if his current relationship with a hilariously-committed method actor is a sexless one) with little-to-no reservations about how he comes across.
But even when Cary’s actions are questionable —voicing Globby, a (fictional) bulging-eyed green slime monster branded as Disney’s first “openly queer character” from its Haunted Buddies films — his flirtation with the dark side is a nice change of pace that could easily continue into future seasons as he’s left to pick up the pieces from the damage he’s caused—because everyone loves a successful character arc.
Tarver was happy to speak with Men’s Health about losing yourself in your achievements, why he doesn’t feel the need to improvise on The Other Two set, and hole. Yep, just hole.
Men’s Health: Season 3 has an overarching theme of ‘choosing yourself,’ and the repercussions of that choice. How do you feel the decision to ultimately focus on his wants and needs has affected Cary?
Drew Tarver: It’s a weird thing for Cary. We leave off in season one wondering, Is he going to choose himself? Is he going to take care of himself? He’s trying to distance himself from his brother’s fame in the first season and be like, “I’m an actor. I do my own stuff.” Season 3 is kind of an exercise: Can you choose yourself too much? Can you lose sight of why you started doing the thing you wanted to do at first in the hustle of it?
I think he’s lost sight of what he wanted to do in the first place.
Does Cary actually think he’s a good actor?
He was in Night Nurse. He wasn’t bad. The movie was good. It was successful. And where does that leave a character? If they are decent at the thing and they do their job and it gets accolades, does that fix them?
Even though his family and the people who have just watched the movie with him stood up and chanted his name and clapped for him, it didn’t land enough. There was a brief moment where he’s walking home happy, but then when he got into the quiet of his own bed, he was like, “Let me get a little bit more of that hit of validation.”
I felt it was indicative of his whole season. Can I get more? Can I get more? How do I get more?
What was your mindset with getting into comedy? Was there a fear of “fuck, what if I’m just not funny?”
When I first found out about the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater and saw a show there, it was so scary thinking of how I needed to do it. Like, “Oh my God, I’ve got to do that. I have to find a way to do that.” I struggled being like, how can I be as comfortable on stage as I am with friends?
In hindsight, it’s crazy that I kept going back—and I maybe should have pivoted to changing oil—but I had to figure out a way to do this. And if I keep doing it, I am getting less and less bad each time. I don’t know if I’m fully good yet, but I do feel like my percentage is… maybe I can get up to a 50%. Like, I’m 50% funny on stage, I’m 50% not funny.
Cary received attention in the first two seasons because of his brother and mother, and not necessarily on his own. Do you think there’s something wrong with that? Or when the going gets tough, take whatever you can get if the opportunity presents itself?
I do think he’s like, “I’m fine to draft off this fame, as long as there’s something there when people look.” You can’t go like, “Hey, look at me. Hey, look at me,” and then be bad. They won’t keep looking.
Cary’s evolution as a queer character has grown immensely over the course of three seasons. Are there any defining moments throughout the series that show the evolution of the character and how comfortable he’s become with his sexuality?
In the first season, he was dealing with a lot of uncomfortable, internalized homophobia and coming into his own as a sexual person. He was hooking up with his straight roommate. He’s trying to stand up to these sort of blocks that he’s put on himself and he can’t quite get through. And I think showing that much sternum in a plunging blue suit jacket is kind of indicative of his growth as a sexual person.
I’m sure it’s been screengrabbed by many people, but you are on all fours talking about your hole in one episode. I’d say that indicative of his progression.
Yes, you can track how often he references his hole. The hole count. I think the more you can say “hole,” the more comfortable you are with who you are.
With your UCB background, do you ever share ideas or feel as though you have the opportunity to insert your own off-the-cuff jokes into the existing dialogue?
Ken Marino is improvising a lot and being very funny and is a genius at doing it. But most of the scripts are very tight and we’ve got to move, move, move when we’re shooting, so there’s not really a need for a ton of improvisation.
I think there’s elements where I’ll rough up a line to make it sound a little more comfortable coming out of my mouth, my other hole. But I think the scripts are so tight and so good that my UCB training is rarely going to beat the joke that’s on the page.
Playing Cary for three seasons now, do you feel like any of his mannerisms have unintentionally progressed over to your own life?
Cary is kind of full anxiety at a 10, caring what other people think about him at a 10. When you spend months playing that character, if anything, you’re like, Okay, I need to not be like this.
It’s a nice reminder to be like, “Hey, Cary is not living in the moment right now. He’s not feeling grateful of where he’s at. Don’t do that.”
Has being on The Other Two translated to your other work? Has working with a script helped or hindered your process when being on stage?
I was very nervous going into season one because most of the stuff I had done was on stage. It was big, it was screaming in a sketch with a mustache on and a crazy wig that’s like half falling off, and it’s almost good if the wig falls off and you create a bit with your hair that fell off.
But I had full trust in Chris [Kelly] and Sarah [Schneider]. They’re there to guide me in finding the performance and making sure you stay in the tone of the show. It’s been nice to have that practice of really grounding the comedy in a real way, and taking the audience along with you in hours of footage, hours of material over the three seasons that I didn’t do at UCB. I just got to be up there for five minutes at a time, so it’s been a really fun thing to play and take an audience with you through the seasons.
Was there someone you watched that you thought “I want to get the same reaction, how do they do it?” And in the same vein, watch someone bomb and be like “OK—never do that.”
On this show, watching Molly [Shannon] deliver hard jokes while remaining super grounded and emotionally true inside of the character. It sounds weird to say, but she’s not going for the laugh. She’s just living. She’s getting laughs, but she’s embodying this character, and it has a depth and a truth to it that I was like, “Oh wow, that’s a thing to aspire to: that level of commitment with a character.”
I also think I was probably being too loud at a bar the other night and I was like, “I don’t need to be like that.” So I looked at myself in the mirror and was like, “Hey, shut up, dude. Get it together. You’re enough.”
I have to bring up the Men’s Health shoutout in the episode where Brooke and Streeter transport your brother’s Rolling Stone armpit photo across the country. If Cary were to have his own shoot for our magazine, what would that look like?
Oh, good, good. Yes. Let’s see. I think just a little peak of underwear band. Just like the tiniest peak. I think just a little taste of some Fruit of the Looms, maybe.
It’s almost like Highlights magazine. You’re like, what is this in this photo? Then the answer is in the back. And it’s like, “It’s actually worms, but close up.”
This interview has been condensed for content and clarity.
Sean Abrams is the Senior Editor, Growth and Engagement at Men’s Health. He’s a former hip hop dancer who likes long walks on the beach and large glasses of tequila. You can find his previous work at Maxim, Elite Daily, and AskMen.
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