“Star Child” starts in a little stand-up club in Brooklyn, the sort of spot with seven or eight tables and a unisex lavatory secured in graffiti. The funnies who appear all have greater dreams, they have operators, they recently sold a pilot. The film opens with Donna (Jenny Slate) in front of an audience, amidst doing a set, one that is quickly incapacitating, genuine and honest to goodness interesting. It feels unscripted.
It’s somewhat of a wreck. Her conveyance is unconstrained, even down to minutes where she forgets about what she is stating and needs to discover her way back to the joke. She gets an energetic reaction from the group of onlookers. Be that as it may, her beau, seething in the back, feels contrastingly about being utilized as a prop as a part of her parody, and says a final farewell to her.