By late summer in Los Angeles, the Forum has seen it all: Lakers championships, pop spectacles, hip-hop blowouts, and even spiritual revivals. On August 30th, it became home to two of America's strangest showmen — “Weird Al” Yankovic and Puddles Pity Party. Together, they turned the arena into a surrealist funhouse of parody, melancholy, and unexpected musical brilliance.

Puddles Pity Party: The Sad Clown, the Golden Voice

The evening began in near silence. A towering clown in white greasepaint and ruffled collar shuffled into the spotlight, clutching a balloon. Then came his voice — operatic, deep, startlingly powerful. He sang “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows,” a Harry Carroll chestnut from the 1910s. The Forum crowd, initially uncertain, soon leaned in.

What followed was a balance of pathos and parody, shifting rapidly between sorrow and humor. “Come Cry With Me” (a Glyn Styler cult favorite) blended heartbreak with comedy, creating a mood that was both touching and absurd. Then, with deliberate whiplash, Puddles delivered Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” — the image of a sad clown shouting “I’m going off the rails!” heightened the emotional swing, evoking both a bizarre and thrilling feeling. The audience erupted in a sing-along as a young boy, pulled from the audience, pretended to play riffs on a fake guitar. The boy went toe-to-toe with Puddles’ emotive facial expressions as the massive sold-out crowd reached a thunderous crescendo on the chorus line. Ozzy would most likely have been moved by the outpouring.

The highlights kept coming:

• “Americana Day” unfolded like a surreal vaudeville hymn.

• A Spanish-language detour with Los Lobos’ “Estoy sentado aquí” rooted the set firmly in L.A. soil.

• Tom Waits’ “Come On Up to the House” swelled into gospel grandeur.

But Puddles is never content to leave well enough alone. His mash-ups leaned toward the absurdist sublime. A straight-faced “In the End” (Linkin Park) made the Forum sound like a cavernous funeral hall. His rendition of “Stairway to Gilligan’s Island,” the notorious parody once banned by Zeppelin’s lawyers, had the crowd laughing and singing along.

He closed with the ultimate left turn: a medley of “My Heart Will Go On” (Celine Dion) bleeding into Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” and “One.” Somehow, his aching baritone made the Titanic theme fit a thrash-metal apocalypse. At first, the audience was bewildered; then, as the performance unfolded, delight replaced confusion, and genuine emotion took over. By the end, they roared their approval.

Weird Al’s Arena of Absurdity

If Puddles prepared the Forum for a trip through the looking glass, Weird Al shattered it. As the house lights went dark, the giant video screens revealed Weird Al backstage already singing his first tune. Obviously feeling quite at home in Los Angeles, many of his longtime friends were in attendance.

As Weird Al sang and danced through the backstage hallways, Puddles appeared, and Jack Black pranced into the picture, delivering a pie to the sad face of Puddles. Black danced like a maniacal leprechaun in the background as Weird Al made his way into the auditorium. He burst onstage in a Hawaiian shirt to huge applause. Yankovic showed the packed house why he’s spent over four decades as America’s parodist. He’s not just funny; he’s a master bandleader.

His longtime crew — Jim West (guitar), Steve Jay (bass), Ruben Valtierra (keys), and Jon “Bermuda” Schwartz (drums) — shifted genres with chameleonic precision. For two hours, Al unspooled a set touching on every era of his career. A younger set of accomplished singers and musicians added to the rich layers of musical brilliance that are offered up at a Weird Al live performance, often overshadowed by the spectacle of the massive multimedia production.

Some of the highlights of the marathon 24-song, two-hour show included:

• “Eat It” complete with a split-screen video parody.

• “Smells Like Nirvana” bolstered by a cheer squad flinging pom-poms into the audience.

• “Word Crimes” turned into a full-arena karaoke singalong with grammar rules scrolling overhead.

• A polka medley weaving in Olivia Rodrigo’s “Vampire” and Måneskin’s “Beggin’.”

He thrilled die-hards with deep cuts like “Skipper Dan” and “Dare to Be Stupid.” His quick changes dazzled: Amish robes for “Amish Paradise,” a fat suit for “Fat,” and Jedi robes for the inevitable Star Wars finale.

The encore, of course, was pure theater. Stormtroopers marched onto the Forum floor. Al launched into “The Saga Begins,” retelling The Phantom Menace as a Don McLean ballad. It all culminated with “Yoda.” The chant extended into a call-and-response with thousands of fans — parents, kids, and millennials who grew up on MTV.

Pop Satire Meets Pop Heart

Together, Puddles and Weird Al offered more than novelty. The night moved seamlessly between laughter and contemplation, showing the thin line between parody and sincerity, comedy and catharsis. Puddles’ covers turned upbeat pop into raw pathos, momentarily quieting the room. Al’s parodies elevated silliness into communal joy, prompting bursts of shared laughter.

When the houselights rose, the Forum felt less like an arena and more like a carnival tent. A sad clown had silenced thousands with a Tom Waits hymn. A parody king turned Star Wars nerds, grammar sticklers, and metalheads into a single, polka-chanting chorus.