Richard Kind never set box-office records or headlined Marvel franchises, yet few American actors enjoy steadier work or warmer regard. The 68-year-old New Jersey native, now the announcer and comic foil on Netflix’s live talk show Everybody’s Live with John Mulaney, has built a résumé of nearly 300 screen credits while remaining, as he cheerfully puts it, “parsley on a plate of meat and potatoes” . His approach to modest fame offers a timely lesson in durability, craft, and self-deprecating charm.
Growing Up Funny—and Unsure
Born in Trenton and raised in Yardley, Pennsylvania, Richard Kind first dreamed of show-business stardom during summer visits to Broadway with his grandparents . At Pennsbury High he clowned through assemblies, but he still planned to follow his father into the family jewelry store. Northwestern University changed that trajectory. Immersed in the campus improv scene, he joined Chicago’s Second City, performing six nights a week and calling it his “Harvard of acting” .
Richard Kind admits early motivations were shallow. “When I was young, lying in bed, dreaming of stardom, I wanted stardom,” he told CBS News . Teasing about his weight and looks forced him to develop a protective humor. A camp friend’s advice—laugh at yourself before others do—became his lifelong shield .
Television: Comfortably Familiar Faces
Kind’s breakthrough came in 1992 as Dr. Mark Devanow on NBC’s Mad About You, a role he reprised in the 2019 revival . Four years later he embodied Paul Lassiter, Michael J. Fox’s hapless press secretary on Spin City, showcasing perfect timing and neurotic warmth. Guest arcs on prestige comedies followed: cousin Andy on Curb Your Enthusiasm, the eager yacht-club neighbor on Only Murders in the Building, and this spring’s doting husband with surprising grit on Peacock’s Poker Face .
He jokes that such supporting turns suit him. “I help make the plate look great,” he said. “I can be cut out. I’m fine with that” .
Film: A Coen Brothers Favorite and Pixar MVP
Hollywood directors value Kind’s ability to toggle between goofy and heartbreaking. Joel and Ethan Coen cast him as the desperate Uncle Arthur in A Serious Man (2009) and again in Suburbicon (2017) . He stole scenes in Argo, The Station Agent, and this year’s indie comedy Mid-Century Modern .
Animated studios also recognize his elastic voice. Pixar fans still mourn Bing Bong, the imaginary ally he brought to life in Inside Out (2015). He previously squawked as Molt in A Bug’s Life, schemed as Van in Cars, and read bedtime tales as Bookworm in Toy Story 3 .
Broadway: A Tony Nod and a New Comedy
Stage work anchors Richard Kind’s artistic identity. His 2013 portrayal of ruthless mogul Marcus Hoff in Clifford Odets’ The Big Knife earned a Tony nomination and a Drama Desk win . Other Main Stem highlights include The Producers and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. This winter he returned in Simon Rich’s sketch-style romp All In: Comedy About Love at the Hudson Theatre, rotating performances with John Mulaney and Renée Elise Goldsberry .
Richard Kind cherishes live audiences—even the drowsy ones. Spotting a sleeping patron from the stage, he simply thinks, “I don’t blame you!” and keeps going .
Netflix’s Live Circus: “Anarchy” on Wednesday Nights
The actor’s largest audience to date arrives weekly via Everybody’s Live with John Mulaney. Serving as house announcer, sidekick, and occasional punch-line target, Kind thrives amid the unscripted chaos. “It’s anarchy,” he told NPR. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing… and that’s what makes it special” .
The role began during the 2024 Netflix Is a Joke festival and evolved into a 12-episode series renewed for another season . Millions now watch him banter, bellow introductions, and trade friendly insults with “Saymo,” a snack-delivery robot that routinely roasts him .
Happiness in Being Recognized—and Ignored
Richard Kind walks an unusual fame tightrope: widely beloved yet seldom mobbed. “I pass 250 people who don’t know who I am, and one who calls me a national treasure,” he laughed . That “little famous” status allows normal family life in New York, where he raises three children with his wife of 26 years, communications executive Dana Stanley.
Kind still battles self-doubt, confessing to NPR that he often feels like a fraud despite decades of acclaim . His trick is relentless preparation. “I walk in saying, ‘I can help you make this great,’” he explained, recalling a $700 paycheck for his first Curb episode .
Work Ethic Over Stardom
Friends note that Kind’s humility masks fierce discipline. Broadway director Alex Timbers calls him “the actor every cast wants—he knows everyone’s lines by the first rehearsal.” Kind credits that work ethic to his late father’s cautious pragmatism. Samuel Kind once quizzed professors, “Does he have it? Is he any good?” . Decades later, Richard still chases that approval by acting like every audition could be his last.
Giving Back and Staying Curious
Between gigs, Kind lends comic chops to charity poker events for the Mets Foundation and hosts “How Not to Be Famous,” a one-night storytelling show that toured to San Francisco this summer . He mentors young improvisers at Second City workshops, insisting that “yes-and” philosophy applies to life as much as comedy.
Curiosity fuels his longevity. Whether voicing a talking cheese in Big Mouth or learning baseball color commentary in a Marlins broadcast booth , he approaches each assignment with amateur glee. “I love to work,” he told UPI. “Pay me and put me in, coach” .
The Lesson of Richard Kind
In an era obsessed with viral fame and blockbuster box offices, Richard Kind demonstrates another path: accumulate credits, cultivate kindness, and treat every role—no matter how small—as essential to the story. His steady presence across four decades of American pop culture proves that being “parsley” can still flavor the entire dish.
As Everybody’s Live careens toward a new season and Broadway courts him for future revivals, the ever-busy actor shows no appetite for retirement. “Risk is part of the business,” he told CBS News . “I help make the plate look great. That’s fine. And I’ve made a career of it, haven’t I?”
Audiences agree. Whether announcing a live Netflix bit, comforting a sleeping theatergoer, or sacrificing himself as Bing Bong so Joy can thrive, Richard Kind continues to deliver exactly what the moment needs—just enough fame to keep working, and more than enough heart to keep us cheering.
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