Chris Rock – or Styx?

Bang the Tamborine Slowly…

Chris Rock is back! In TAMBORINE, Rock’s 6^th standup Special, his pace is a little less panther, his delivery a little less clipped, his demeanor a little less arrogant. The interim since his last Special (KILL THE MESSENGER, 2008) has robbed him of some electric youth and vitality, not least through the hard life lessons learned in a divorce, and becoming a better man for it. But was it good for his comedy? Uh…

This Netflix Special, which includes a large segment of Rock discussing his divorce, ironically premieres on Valentine’s Day. Directed by standup prodigy Bo Burnham and filmed at Brooklyn’s Academy of Music, TAMBORINE is reportedly part of a two-fer, reminding us of Dave Chappelle’s triumphant return in the same Netflixian manner.

A rock god lightshow heralds Rock’s entrance, and he immediately slaps us upside de head: “You would think a cop would occasionally shoot a white kid just to make it look good.” The panther may have calmed, but the controversy engine is spouting razor blades. His first “nigger” is two minutes in. With that cheeky smile that, funnily enough, looks like Henry Cavill’s CGI-painted philtrum.

Topics include: the police, religion, gun control (funny how those topics are evergreen; watching anyone in America commenting from years ago, you truly don’t realize which school shooting they are referring to!); the American justice system, school bullies (and how we NEED bullies to prepare us for the assholes of the world, “Pressure makes diamonds”). He includes a callback from his 2004 Special, NEVER SCARED, that he “kept his daughter off the pole” (i.e. been a good father), adding that counselors should stop telling American kids they can “be anything they wanna be.” How about “You can be anything you’re good at, as long as they’re hiring.”

He uses bullies to lead seamlessly into the now-perfunctory Trump jokes. “Because you got rid of all the bullies, when a real bully came along, nobody knew how to handle him!” Like Dave, Rock intimates that “Trump might work out,” but unlike Dave, it’s not because he wishes the white supremacist the best and wants to give him a chance; Rock is commenting on the arc of history: “Bush was so bad that people said, ‘Hey, maybe this black guy has the answers’” (adding that people overlook George Bush’s contribution to black history), and that Trump’s incendiary failure might spawn the advent of Jesus himself…

Eddie taught us about divorce and “Half!” Chris didn’t listen.

These days, Rock’s “Whitey rage” reads a little inauthentic, simply because – as he reminds us – he’s rich. And he’s been reminding us he’s rich for a loooong time (at least as far back as BIGGER AND BLACKER: “There ain’t a white man in this room that would change places wid me – and I’m rich!) He tells us how he’s been prepping his kids since birth for dealing with the white man – but his kids were born to a rich man, not a black man… Yes, the black man’s experience is a singular stain on Western society that cannot be authoritatively critiqued by anyone not experiencing the same bigotry, so I am blowing smoke as a green cucumber in minimizing Rock’s experience; nonetheless, he doesn’t look like he really and truly means it these days when he’s cussing out Whitey. Don’t take my word for it; compare the two eras. It’s night and day. Or… ahem… black and white.

It’s not “compelling” viewing. If you were to catch a snippet of any routine from any of Rock’s previous Specials, you would take a seat and ride that bucking bronco to its conclusion, they are that riveting. TAMBORINE seems like you could walk past a TV showing it, and it would look like just another standup routine by just another comic, so you would keep walking. It’s good when you listen, but there’s nothing to hook you if you’re passing through.

The obvious feature of the show is Rock’s divorce. After 16 years of marriage. It’s a sad segment of the show, and also, a cathartic one for Chris. We feel he wants to talk about this, so we listen. Like every comedian, he self-therapies on stage; he confesses, he takes blame, he derides his weaknesses, he self-flagellates, and finally, utters wisdom learned during the demeaning process: “Love hard – or get the fuck out.” He compares being married to being in a band: even if you’re the tambourine player, you play the fuck out of it. He even sneaks in a callback to his “big piece o’ chicken” (from BIGGER AND BLACKER). Ultimately, we feel that he cleanses himself to move forward, as the Prince song Tamborine funks the credits.

Maybe the panther will be back – but in the next Special…

END

The Shotgun Monologues.

Chris Rock taught me what “tossing the salad” meant.

Admit it: you too. During his HBO comedy standup special BRING THE PAIN, Rock recounts a prisoner’s graphic advice on what you need to do to get along in jail.

And a superstar is born…

“We don’t need prayer in schools –
we need the tossed salad man in schools!”

By 1996, Chris Rock had grown into a formidable comedian in the United States, with a burgeoning standup career, a couple of choice movie roles and smattering of smaller ones; he was an SNL alumnus, a screenwriter, and already had a 1994 HBO special (BIG ASS JOKES). BRING THE PAIN would put him over the top. It’s that defining moment in an artist’s career where they tip the scales into world renown; now everyone on Earth is destined to know their name. Like Jackson’s Thriller, like Python’s LIFE OF BRIAN, like Spielberg’s JURASSIC PARK. So though it was technically his second standup outing, for many fans, BRING THE PAIN would be his “first” harbinger of hilarity.

It was untethered, unchained, unholy. Shrewd, cutting and insightful, it took no prisoners and brooked no rejoinders; the type of truthful, harrowing street comedy that breaks barriers and makes superstars.

“That shit wasn’t about race – that shit was about fame, cos if OJ wasn’t famous, he’d be in jail right now!”

Years later, Rock would tell James Lipton on INSIDE THE ACTORS STUDIO that he was feeling stagnant at the time and wanted to hone his craft, so put everything aside to focus on standup. Two years on the road, culminating with this show, filmed at the Takoma Theater in Washington, D.C. For what he thought was just another hardworking comedy product, Rock would win two 1997 Emmys: “Outstanding Variety, Music or Comedy Special,” and “Outstanding Writing for a Variety or Music Program.”

What we notice first is the pacing, like a panther ready to pounce; garbed in black and leather jacket, syllables cutting like knives, an anger, an inspiration, a blood feud with the white man, a sociological hammer against stupidity. The delivery is like being slapped in the face. But it’s not just the delivery – it’s the guts. He takes risks.

“I’m not sayin’ he shoulda killed her… but I understand.”

Besides the easy jabs (O.J., Marion Barry, marriage), Rock tackles nuanced social issues, all whilst swearing, chastising, castigating humanity for its foibles: the avoidance of pork as a religious issue, Colin Powell running for president, domestic violence, the Friend Zone, divorce inequalities between men and women, the War On Drugs… “is just to get more motherfuckers in jail, cos drug dealers don’t really sell drugs. Drugs sell themselves!”

He explains why we “ain’t NEVER gonna see a black vice president – not while there’s a white president.” Because, he says, some black guy will just kill the president, offering to do it himself, pointing out: “What’re they gonna do? Put me in jail with a bunch of black guys who treat me like a hero for the rest of my life?” When we think the bit’s over, it astonishingly continues: “Even if I get the death penalty, what’s gonna happen? Pardoned by the black president!!”

“Girl, I will shake this weave outcha hair!
Shut the fuck up!”

His observations on domestic violence are shattering; he says things that every man wants to say, but is too fearful of the fem-leaning laws to do so. His takes on O.J. and the Friend Zone – two topics done to death by lesser comedians – are refreshingly honest and against the grain. He opines that to turn kids off jail, we don’t need prayer in schools – just the salad tossing guy to explain his stuff! “If I had to choose between the Electric Chair and the tossed salad man I’d be going, ‘Where do you plug this thing in? Shouldn’t I be wet?'” And his now infamous Black People vs. Niggers thesis…

These are complicated comedy stylings from a hip new juggernaut. Listening to Rock’s renegade sociological gunmetal, it’s a wonder that one of Rock’s own heroes – Eddie Murphy – ever got as far as he did as a standup comedian with the straightforward fluff he purveyed. Not saying Murphy’s two major offerings, DELIRIOUS and RAW, were not excellent for their day, but they pale next to Rock’s obliterating dialogues. Yes, I’m blaspheming that Chris Rock is better than Eddie Murphy.

Murphy had “salad-eating bitches.” And Rock has “tossing the salad.” Case closed. What exactly is tossing the salad anyway? …You’ll have to watch BRING THE PAIN to find out.

Or go to jail.

END