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“Subway Takes” plays like a TikTok adaptation of “The Tonight Show”: upbeat humor that’s grounded in reality, even if episodes occasionally acknowledge the existence of opioids and genital photos. The premise is simple: Host Karim Rahma is on the New York City subway and asks, “So, what’s your take?” A guest makes an opinion — “The Internet is great,” say, or “Naps suck” — and Rahma quickly responds with “Totally agree” or “Totally disagree.” (There’s no middle ground.) They speak into microphones disguised as MetroCards, because why not? Sometimes the person they’re talking to is a celebrity; sometimes they’re an average person; and sometimes, given the subway environment, a passerby will pop into the frame, interrupting the conversation, and Rahma will improvise. Actress Cate Blanchett argued that “leaf blower operators should be wiped off the face of the earth.” Comedian Rami Youssef insisted that everyone is inherently good, including Benjamin Netanyahu and George W. Bush. Musician David Byrne believed that New York bikers needed to learn more about street etiquette. The format is “vertical video” — clips shot on a smartphone and debuting on Instagram or TikTok. They can be an hour or more long, but the social media versions are condensed to two minutes. Often, that’s enough time for Rahma to revise his assessment from 100 percent approval to 100 percent rejection, sometimes more than once.
Rahma has largely shied away from political discussions—a rare measure of restraint in an era when Joe Rogan grills FBI chiefs and the Nelk Boys interview foreign leaders—but he has made exceptions. In June, Zohran Mamdani appeared on the show with the pitch: “I’m meant to be mayor.” Rahma agreed. Mamdani has appeared on Subway Takes before (the reason: “Eric Adams is a terrible mayor”), as well as on another Rahma media project, Keep the Meter Running, which similarly relies on a simple concept: Rahma hails a cab and asks the driver to take him to his favorite New York City haunts, which are usually fast food joints. He counts the actual meter charge during the ride and the conversation, and actually pays it at the end of the evening—sometimes as much as $800.
Last fall, when Kamala Harris was running for president, her team reached out to Subway Takes to ask about her possible participation. Rahma had two questions. First: Could he ask her on camera where she stood on Gaza? (He opposed the Israeli military operation, which the Biden administration supported.) The answer was a resounding no. Second: What would her position be? She was told that the vice president would make the statement that it was unacceptable to take your shoes off on an airplane. That sounded intriguing. Police wouldn’t allow filming on the subway, but the Harris campaign flew Rahma to Pittsburgh, where they filmed on her campaign bus.
What followed felt like an episode of Veep, or a platitude for how Democrats seem unsinkable and sometimes self-defeating. Harris’s campaign advisers thought her initial pitch—which was sincere because it aligned with her views—would come across as snobbish. Instead, they offered two less risky proposals, based on focus groups: anchovies are great on pizza, and “Bacon is a spice.” Rahma, recalling on a Forbes podcast earlier this year, found the first pitch trite and the second “confused and weird,” not to mention tone-deaf to him as a Muslim who avoids bacon. When he tried to steer the conversation away from the bacon position, his arguments were guarded. The resulting pitch was so weak that he and the campaign agreed to keep it from the public.
We recently caught up with Rahma at a coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn, then walked through Prospect Park. We discussed his growing content empire, his rendezvous with Andrew Cuomo, and the film Or Something, which he co-wrote and stars in, opening this weekend. The talk has been edited for clarity and brevity.
One of my own promises was to refuse to interview you on the subway. The second was to not start a conversation with the question: “Well, what do you think?”
[Laughs.] That's good of you.
To rephrase “What do you think about this?” I'd ask: “What is your job?”
Hmm. You know, I used to call myself a comedian. I also used the term “media entrepreneur”. Sometimes I combined both definitions – “comedian and media entrepreneur”, which sounded respectable. Now I just call myself an artist. I think the more universal the characteristic, the easier it is for people to understand.
A month ago, while on holiday in Jamaica, I was swimming by the pool. I like to start conversations in a sophisticated way. I noticed three average – or rather, above-average – elderly white men. I like old men, so I approached them and asked, “How do you like them?” They replied, “Same to you,” in a friendly, usual way. We started talking about each other’s occupations. “I do taxidermy.” “I’m a former police officer.” I realised it was my turn. I allowed myself to say, “I’m an artist.” They said, “Oh, I see.” They got the point.
Even the expression “content author” – I find it funny: everyone is one. Sorry. It's hard to admit.
I feel awkward too, but it's true.
Talk show host, podcaster – these days they are synonymous concepts.
This is partly what excites me. But first, tell us about the beginning of the journey.
So, at twenty-five, I found myself in New York City. I had always dreamed of moving, but the death of my father in my youth kept me in Minnesota, where I earned a journalism degree, specializing in advertising. I had no great ambitions. As a young man of Egyptian descent in Minnesota, I had no active hopes or grandiose aspirations. I grew up in a family with modest means. My mother was a kindergarten teacher. My father was a businessman without much success. There was nothing to fall back on.
These beliefs were formed somewhere around 2012, a time of worship for startup founders and startups themselves. When I opened a book or magazine, I would come across headlines: “TOMS Shoes Founder Makes Fortune,” “Mark Zuckerberg Gets Rich.” I would think, “Great, I’ll do that. I’ll go to New York to get rich.”
I started looking for work through employers and got a wonderful job at Vice, a company I had no idea about. A friend suggested, “Apply to Vice.” I went to vice.com and thought, “Is this a porn site? I don't get it.”
Admit it, Vice was the object of bewilderment.
[Laughs.] That was the question, and the situation got worse.
Were you living in Williamsburg and were you part of the so-called hipster movement?
I don't know if I was part of the hype. I was definitely the butt of jokes as the newcomer. I was subject to light teasing. Phrases like, “Why did you come here on a longboard?” I'd counter, “The rest of you are riding skateboards,” and they'd say, “Yeah, but longboards are for losers.”
For this reason, no one mourned the death of the hipster as the trigger of an intolerable phenomenon.
It was depressing but entertaining at the same time, and I resisted it too. If someone said, “We like the Chief Keef album,” I'd say, “I think that music is backward.” I appreciated it later, but at the time I was like, “I like meaningful art.” I was obsessed with J. Cole. Vice was obsessed with Chief Keef.
Because worrying about things is a nightmare.
I just decided to be constantly embarrassed. I accepted this fate.
What did you do?
I was the deputy COO of global marketing, not a good fit for a twenty-five-year-old with no media background. My boss was twenty-seven. Within the first few weeks, he said, “We have a big initiative for Intel: media acquisitions.” I realized, “Wow. What exactly does that mean?”
However, I did a great job. I got up to speed in no time. And the video, which had previously seemed insignificant to me, resonated in my heart.
I was the first person to make the transition from Vice to the New York Times. I basically had a hand in starting Times Video. At the time, their video division was just deep news clips, and they said, “We need programming.” That’s when I started doing product development and audience growth. I was the first person to publish vertical video at the Times, the first person to launch a Snapchat channel, the first person to hold down two jobs — commercial and editorial.
Eventually, my network grew stronger, my experience gained weight, and I did what I originally set out to do: start a company and focus on getting rich. The idea failed because I was chasing a trend. Completely planetary content, without its own platform. Dependent on the whims of distribution channels – it worked temporarily, I made a lot of money, and then it all evaporated.
Then, during the pandemic, I had a midlife epiphany. My brother was dying in a medical facility. I was in Minneapolis for him, and then the George Floyd thing happened in my homeland. It had been ten years since I’d spent more than three days in Minneapolis. And then I was there for an indefinite amount of time. Immersed in public protest, needing a distraction from my grief — I couldn’t go to my brother’s clinic. My mother was praying tearfully around the clock; I felt like I was immersed in the Garden State upon my return home.
But instead of the Shins, there is the Black Lives Matter movement.
[Laughs.] Then my wife and I separated; my whole life changed in an instant. I never thought in my life about what I wanted to be in the future, what I wanted to do, what I was good at. Who do I want to become? Do I want to leave a mark?
I took a sincere and honest look at my life: if money didn't exist, what would I want to do – competently, in my opinion? The thought struck: “You know what? I've always been a magnet. A key to people like a draft animal. I've been invited to weddings many times, best man – memorable.” I think that says a lot.
I decided to become a comedian. I focused my efforts on overcoming the path quickly. The goal: to complete ten years of work in five years – at thirty-three, age seemed advanced. Now I'm thirty-nine, and the bar has risen. I need to prove my competence and speed.
It’s interesting how you mentioned “magnetism.” Because true magnetism is a quality that only a few possess. Let’s look at Jimmy Fallon: his talent is not comedy per se. He’s a master talk show host. Perhaps you were considering a model for the show’s host? How did you come to that conclusion?
I did things that were manageable. Posted selfies, teased on Twitter, ran TikTok, made sketches.
One day, a guy named Adam Feiz said, “Hey, we have some money to launch a batch of projects. Any ideas?” I suggested, “Yes. I have an old idea in my Notes.” “Let's call it “The Counter in Action”: I get into a taxi and ask to take me where the driver is going.” He agreed, “Great, we'll implement it.” My father was a taxi driver for three or five years before he died: I was drawn to older men who reminded me of my fathers.
I heard Stavros Halkias' version: a unique excuse to meet every immigrant father in New York. Taxi drivers are enterprising individuals.
Yes. They are like a treasure trove. Each one has a bizarre side job. One is implementing a solo theater project. Another sings folk songs. A third has gold mining expeditions in Ghana. A fourth has a hotel in a remote native village, where he moves quarterly, creating exclusive water bottles for events. All have incredible biographical facts. And I never embellished anything. I just got into a taxi.
So if an episode doesn't get any views, you don't publish it?
All of them took place. I was involved in twenty episodes. All of them went on air. Many refused, but those who agreed brought significant topicality.
Before The Counter in Action, my friend Andrew had started a company with me. The startup had failed because of its focus on high-quality, long-form, produced podcasts. I rethought: “Why not do the complete opposite? Ninety-minute podcasts?” My co-founder said: “The taxi model is good. Should we move it to the subway?” I said: “Whatever. We still need a set. We don’t have the money.” And so Subway Takes was born.
In episode #1, my friend Anthony, who is the cameraman for the show, made the point: vertical video is a curse on society. My remark: “100 percent disagreement.” This is our polarized culture with no room for gray. “Maybe” is out. Humor in disagreement about the most frivolous subjects. Initially, I circulated the motto: “A frivolous show for an intelligent audience.”
Yesterday, someone said, “Smoking is normal.” I said, “I completely disagree.” My father died of lung cancer. And the commentators are full of narrow-minded opinions: “He clearly didn't do the research.” I said, “Bite your damn tongue. He's a light smoker.”
It's interesting that MTV's first vertical video was “Video Killed the Radio Star,” and your debut in “Subway Takes” was also vertical.
Significant. I did not draw parallels.
Does every person have a point of view?
Everyone has a position. I have heard: “I want to get to you, but I don't have a fiery position?” I always retort: “No star from the sky is required.” The everyday approach is productive.
Testing myself in a cafe, I decided: I'll probably mark “Decaffeinated coffee is a reasonable order.”
One hundred percent disagreement.
Honestly: a cold brew order every morning. Regular. But caffeine is a powerful stimulant.
Caffeine is good for you.
It's good for you, but what if there's no more thirst for it?
Try Diet Coke.
But what if I prefer the truly pleasant taste of coffee? What if I love a drink without the heart risk and manic episode?
Then the taste is different.
What if I just want to add milk to my coffee, fall asleep and admit the situation? Why meth?
I think this is quality sleep, maybe…
Not a dream – scientific reality!
It does not quench thirst.
Brings pleasure.
Why not have a glass?
You see, the point here is: I really don't care, but disagreement is more intriguing than agreement. I try to add a little spice to the dialogue. Otherwise it would look like: “Men have limited internet access”, and I would say: “I agree 100%”, and that's it. However, from a perspective I will put myself in their place… I am a man after all… I get furious.
Therefore, there is a point of view.
I'm not always completely honest. My assessment of the show is not entirely honest — the journalistic ethics side. Someone called me a journalist in the past. The reporter tweeted about me as a journalist. I responded: “I'm stupid. I'm obscene. For a journalist, such a comparison is an insult.”
Theo Vaughn has been given extended access to the vice president and the president. I don't think that makes him a journalist, but does that make him… responsible? (bad word) Why do some people say, “You've talked to J.D. Vance, why don't you ask him the tough question?”
Yeah, I've thought about that. Because I say no to most people. Maybe the difference is that a lot of podcasts are built on celebrity participants.
Guest stars – an indicator of quality?
Yes. This was a big discussion when Subway Takes launched. “How do we scale up? We need big names.” I countered, “You're getting it wrong – the guest's talent is not important.”
What matters is genuine talent, not a euphemism for “fame.”
Yeah. It's not just the names. [But Vaughn's episode] is built around a catchy name. I don't know the Mercangicel method of inviting guests, the personal motivations — I don't know any more than any of the podcasters on here: is he a comedian or a podcaster? Doesn't know about moderate stand-up? Is he, say, an artist? I guess he's like me.
A striking example: He takes J.D. Vance as a guest, for example, and declares: “Gaza is genocide.”
It's hard to judge his political position. I think he comes across as a free thinker. Doesn't he fully realize his own power? Also, it feels like the attention to liberals or leftists is much more intense than to self-proclaimed worthless or conservative participants in the dialogue. Perhaps Theo Vaughan's essence is a liberal who values his tea and doesn't want to be criticized or watched.
What level of verification do you expect?
Let's take Joe Rogan as an example as the most influential. He says: “I talk to anyone”, his political positions are really confused: “I sympathize with Bernie, supported Trump” – but it doesn't matter, because he is not a representative of the left. He is not interested in outraged people.
I mean, he doesn't have to be of impeccable integrity.
Sometimes I think, “Damn, maybe they were right about not allowing politics or religion into the discussion (except in a small circle).” I grew up with such signposts without realizing the implications. Who argues about religion? Maybe they did. Like, in the 90s, you'd say, “I'm Orthodox,” and they'd say, “That's false”?
Associated with theological battles among Christians.
Oh, I'm not familiar with these people.
How “baptism should be carried out like this.”
Oh, Christian rigorism is not excluded.
Yes, Jewish discussion implies eternal dispute. Our community applied the rule little.
It is perceived as an unimaginable comedy.
Let's open the issue of Zohran Mamdani including Kamala Harris. The transition of the guys of Scorteo Von from “apolitical” to “obvious Maga-sympathy” as a model by default forms a huge problem of the country, and we have reached the brink of authoritarianism. Harris's stories were experienced on your set: her point of view as from a focus group, she looked insincere…
Fixing “Vice President” in a basic way.
What are the problems of the Democratic Party?
The Democratic apparatus is unwilling to change its approach. It is committed to victory or defeat. It is ready to win or lose, but it is not inclined to listen to the people. Amazingly, the workers are Republicans. Here is Zohran, full of menacing socialist communism, an alternative to the Republican Labor Party, which the Democratic apparatus demonizes.
Democrats are afraid of their own base, and Republicans are in the rhetoric of permissiveness. Kirsten Gillibrand said: “This man is promoting jihad.” Some people took it as weird. The untruth is obvious. This approach is too weird. Throw it in their faces: they are weird.
There are many questions left to ask. However, I will turn to your new film.
Frankly speaking about the film: it is special. The script was written before “The Counter in Action” and “Subway Takes”. It is funny: the film contains truncated scenes and catches plot points with the subway.
Yes. At that moment you literally say: “I agree one hundred percent.”
Comedy a bit. I don’t remember, that makes it funnier. I think it’s a powerful story of friendship for a one-time freshness. That’s how I create structure. Once in Joseph Leonard West Village I was going through a difficult day — or a complete failure of a weekend, or a week. I wandered in alone with a newspaper. It was Sunday. An older woman sat down next to me, and we entered into friendship, even headed to MOMA, spent the whole day. Thai house included. Eight hours minimum. I didn’t ask for contact, there were no meetings. I call it friendship for a one-time freshness — they are wonderful.
I nurtured a project on the edge of the “Ice Age” (“Nenette et Boni”). In France, it was launched with Vincent Cassel as the main star. The day is presented in the title “One Day”.
So you want to direct films with Vincent Cassel and shoot vertical short content at the same time.
That's how it all started. A lot of people in my position want to be a big movie star. A lot of movie stars want… Honestly, if I were Amy Poehler and I were interested in hosting a podcast? I probably wouldn't. There's a paradox: we want to be them, and they want to be us. And I decided, “I'll combine this and that.”
Amy Poehler's podcast “Good Hang” connects subjects with a unification. For representatives of politics, celebrity – in addition to competence, it is necessary to have a tendency to ease.
Have you ever come across the beer test?
“Who would you rather have a beer with?”
Yes, applicable test.
Not entirely inclusive of the companions of Islam; like the bacon test.
[Laughs.] That's right.
Donald Trump doesn't drink beer. George Bush either doesn't. However, in general, who would you choose to drink Heineken 0.0 with? George Bush knew how to be sociable – the audience is hungry for communication.
What the audience thinks. Cuomo could be poorer if he were more sociable. However, he lags behind in rigidity.
I had the honor of meeting him in person. Tribeca Film Festival. I was a judge in one category this year, and I accidentally touched on him. On the eve of the primaries. He asked, “What's the story behind Mamdani?” I responded, “Man, can I be completely frank? He's young, and you've got your kit ready.” I tried to be polite, which was his version of politeness.
You haven't lost sight of the fact of harassment of women and the painful losses of the older generation
I don't know. I thought, “It's funny, he doesn't know me. He probably thought I was a janitor.”
The debate took place the day before. I said, “Hey, I watched your fights yesterday. You did an excellent job. Zohran is great.”
He countered, “Yeah, he doesn't realize the human power of New York City, two hundred thousand employees.” I thought, “This is a fucking battlefield.” Yes, it's intense work, but not overwhelming. I predicted, “You'll do better than failure.”
I continued: “Historically, the country has valued youth. Obama is young, Kennedy was young, they shot him” … I told him frankly. Trump, Biden, Bernie. What the hell is going on? Why is everyone eighty years old? I thought: “Time for something new, attractive and interesting.” He responded: “I'm relaxing.” I finished: “Okay, good luck.” Two days later, Zohran's episode of “Subway Takes” was published. ♦
Sourse: newyorker.com
