But I can say without reservation that Cho’s “Notorious C.H.O.” is the best comedy concert movie I’ve seen since Cho’s previous concert comedy film, “I’m the One That I Want,” in 2000.

“Notorious C.H.O.” is in the tradition of Hicks, Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, Lily Tomlin, early Whoopi Goldberg, Woody Allen, Mort Sahl, Nichols & May and Shelley Berman – comics who told the truth, who dared to get figuratively naked on stage.

In the ‘50s and ‘60s, this would have meant going all political/psychoanalytical, but Cho, a second-generation Korean-American, seems interested in self-analysis only as it pertains to her ethnicity, the subject of “I’m the One That I Want,” and to sex, the primary interest in “Notorious C.H.O.”

For Cho, openly addressing her fluid and exploratory sexual desire is as vital – and as funny – as exploring her experiences as an Asian-American in “I’m the One That I Want.” She understands that few of us would go as far as to frequent an S&M club, or engage in the kind of cutting-edge sexual practices she unabashedly details in “Notorious C.H.O.” – “I felt like a Muppet” puts one such experiment in terms we can report in a family newspaper. But she’s determined to explain why she would, and what that says about her character and ours.

The great stand-ups – and Cho is one – encourage dialogue and self-examination. Anyone who didn’t reflect on black-white relations while howling at Pryor, or censorship and Jewish identity while trying to track Bruce, heard only the jokes and not the struggle behind the jokes.

Unlike stand-up by Robin Williams or Jamie Foxx and Tommy Davidson, freestyle commentators who improvise on the issue du jour, Cho’s shows are like those of Tomlin and, more lately, Julia Sweeney – carefully written, arranged and designed, more like a big band than a bebop quartet.

In “Notorious,” whose title and content were inspired by the up-front, in-your-face commentary of rappers, Cho begins by informing us she was brought up in 1970s San Francisco. The influence of her traditional immigrant parents – in the audience at this Seattle-filmed show – was contradicted by the carousel of culture in front of her, in which sexuality played a large role; everything she learned about sex, she claims, she heard from gay men.

Cho talks about her subsequent explorations with a kind of wide-eyed wonder, often staring at the audience, literally wide-eyed and open-mouthed in mock shock: Did I really do this? The answer is, yes, she did, and she’s not ashamed, either. The effect is that of a friend revealing a secret to other friends – in this case, hundreds of them, at the concert, and thousands, watching the film – and it tends to remove the disapproving sting from even her more outrageous adventures.

Much of what Cho talks of in “Notorious” is, of course, common; it just isn’t talked about in public. Few women will not recognize and sympathize with her attempts to teach sexual manners to her boyfriends. But for those who would never have the courage or even the inclination to visit an S&M club, her observations of the way reality tends to intrude on personal fantasy are as informative as they are priceless. Though some people might be thrilled to be assigned a dominatrix who looks like Sharon Stone, Cho is crestfallen; “I wanted a woman who looked like John Goodman,” she confesses.

As personal and sincere as these confessions might be, they come from an actress who just happens to be playing herself. Every anecdote in “Notorious” carefully builds on the one before it, and every movement is carefully choreographed. Though Cho makes it easy to forget this is not just an intimate chat about taboo subjects among friends, the film has been artfully if unobtrusively directed by Lorene Machado, who fully understands she is filming a story of self-discovery and not just a comedian.