A month into the pandemic, David Spade got fired.

Like most TV shows filming in March, the comedian's late-night talk show "Lights Out" came to a sudden halt because of the COVID-19 pandemic, and under lockdown Spade attempted to produce content for Comedy Central from home — doing interviews with Adam Sandler and "Tiger King" cast members that would post online.

But on April 3, the trades reported that "Lights Out" had been canceled, less than a year after its premiere.

"Honestly, I was kind of shocked," said Spade, 56. "They said we were gonna shut down fully and told me around the same time it was in Deadline. We hadn't cleaned out our offices. We had no idea."

The program was hardly a massive hit, launching in July 2019 with about 460,000 viewers per episode. But critics responded warmly to Spade's easy demeanor and his penchant for bantering about pop culture with fellow stand-ups. He said he was told the decision to axe the show was a cost-saving measure.

"The reason I heard was the new guy wants to cut anything that's kind of expensive and go kind of cheap," Spade said, referring to Chris McCarthy, who came in as ViacomCBS' President of Entertainment & Youth Brands, including Comedy Central, at the beginning of 2020. "It wasn't that (expensive), but I think he's talking, like, really inexpensive. I don't know if he saw one show. I think that's how tough the biz is, where they say, 'How much is that one? OK, get rid of it.' So, I understand." (ViacomCBS declined to comment.)

Fortunately, Spade had acquired a powerful fan during his short-lived run as a talk show host: Ted Sarandos, co-CEO and chief content officer for Netflix. The executive, who, like Spade, grew up in Arizona, had swung by the Comedy Central set a few times, watching from backstage. When the cable network pulled the plug — or, as Spade joked, "pushed me out on the freeway" — Sarandos suggested he do a similar program for the streamer.

Enter "The Netflix Afterparty." The show, which is being released weekly, has Spade and co-hosts Fortune Feimster and London Hughes chatting with talent from Netflix's most popular films and television shows.

Q: The last three comedic films you starred in — "The Do-Over," "Father of the Year" and "The Wrong Missy" — all premiered on Netflix. When a movie does well on Netflix, does it feel the same as when "Tommy Boy" was a hit in theaters?

A: You can't compare it to looking at the box office. That's like, "Oh, you'll probably get another movie." No one is aware of this. You don't get the fun of going out to dinner to celebrate. It's like a text that's like, "Congrats, you're No. 1 in the world!" There's no yankee doodle dandy, running around the city feeling cool.

But when you think about it and you go, OK, "The Wrong Missy" had 59 million views in the first month. So if you say "Grown Ups" made $160 million and tickets are $16, what is that, 10 million people see it? Netflix movies are seeping in so deep to people in one day, instead of (doing) a movie and a press junket here and then we'd go to Europe and then it goes to HBO and then video. "Tommy Boy," "Joe Dirt" — those movies didn't make that much, and then they seeped in through TBS or HBO.

Q: So how does your team get it across to industry people that one of your Netflix movies does well?

A: It's so embarrassing. I have to go door-to-door around my neighborhood and tell everyone. I used to have documents and proof. When Netflix started the Top 10, that helped. I got 100 more calls than I would have. I was sent a lot of movies after "Father of the Year," like, "Wouldn't this be funny if it was you and Kevin Hart?"

Q: Adam Sandler, your longtime friend, has been venturing into dramatic roles and returning to stand-up in recent years. Is part of being a talk show host exploring a similar drive to try new things at this stage in your career?

A: With Sandler, I think once you do 10 $100-million movies in a row, it's like, you want to try something new. He's a (expletive) hard worker. Every movie we're working on, he's writing the next one at lunch. With me, I don't work that hard. A talk show just sounded like a fun, steady job. I'm not as thirsty to do a million movies or 20 tours. I don't want to chase my tail for the next 20 years. I don't think I could be on the real road like Joan Rivers or something. I'm not as tough as her. To fly (expletive) Southwest and connect in Houston to go to gigs every night? You want a good reputation, but as far as just grinding it out, that's not my favorite thing.

Q: So this isn't a new era of David Spade.

A: Doing different things is sort of a survival mechanism. I'm not America's No. 1 movie star. It's never been that easy to get a movie going. I'd do one about every two years, and that's not an everyday job. I do spend money, and I do like to be out in the mix.

Q: What do you mean, in the mix?

A: I like to think that I can still be considered funny along with everybody else, instead of going "That one's (expletive) had it and should call it quits. There's nothing there."

Q: So people coming up to you and recognizing you from "Joe Dirt" or "Tommy Boy" — is that OK with you?

A: You're always going to be known for a couple of things. It's funny, because at "SNL" everyone was trying to find a hook. You're the angry guy, you're deadpan, you're the guy who does crazy characters. Let's say I'm a snarky Hollywood type. The funny thing is, the second you get a hook, you spend the rest of your career trying to get rid of it. But you can't beat it up forever. I just don't want people to think I'm not trying. I still try, whether it seems like it or not. Some people say, "You really walked through that last movie," and I say, "Unfortunately, I didn't. I wish I did." I do have sort of an attitude that looks like I don't try. But I do get nervous.

Q: You are sort of poker-faced. You've endured a lot of tragedy — Chris Farley's overdose, your sister-in-law Kate Spade's suicide, your assistant attempting to murder you — and you seem to keep your pain to yourself.

A: Not that nobody cares, but it's not anyone's problem. I'm here for a reason, and I want to keep it fun and light. I don't want to drag people down and make them feel sorry for me or whatever. I think everyone has had different degrees of tough things happen. I can't use that as a crutch or a victim thing all my life.

Q: When do you let it out? Are you a therapy dude?

A: Like, cry into my pillow? I am kind of a therapy dude. Sure, I can use a good shaking now and again. I did an Instagram thing with (Jerry) Seinfeld the other day, and he said something like, "You come off cool. How do you be cool?" It was cool of him to say, and I didn't know how to answer it without sounding like a (jerk). So I said, "I try to stay even-keeled." It's turned into my natural state, but I just try to not to be so tense. I have a bad neck, anyway.

Q: The downside of being 56?

A: Yeah, I try to meet girls, and I just hope they don't know how to use Google. At dinner, they're looking at their phone and back at me, like, 'What the (expletive)?'

Q: And you have a 12-year-old daughter.

A: She's already bored by me. She told me last time I saw her that she thinks I have a bald spot. She got up and looked. I said, "No, Harper. It's funny you say that, because it's actually a cowlick." She said, "What's that?" I go, "It's where the hair gets pushed aside because I laid down or something, but it's all there, it's just pushed into a little swirl." She goes, "That's not what that is." Jesus! Now I have to ground her.