Dave Chappelle's Brilliance and Ignorance on Display
The comedian's controversial 'Sticks & Stones' special is a frustrating watch
Courtesy: Mathieu Bitton/Netflix
There’s one moment early in Dave Chappelle’s latest comedy special, Sticks & Stones, that precisely lays out how he can be so brilliant and so frustrating to watch as of late. In the bit, he talks about a conversation he had with Standards and Practices about his iconic TV show, Chappelle's Show, and its use of the gay-slur F-bomb. In the discussion with the woman at S&P, he asks why he can’t say the F-word but can use the N-word. The woman tells him it’s because he’s not gay. His retort: “I’m not a n— either.” The punchline receives the most uproarious applause of the entire show, and deservedly so. It’s a razor-sharp critique of how he’s looked at by the industry and by white people in general. The delivery brings a true, surprising a-ha moment that has been the trademark of Chappelle’s best bits.
Of course, the whole premise of the bit is his perception that somehow the LGBTQ community is treated better than the African-American community. It's an old trope of his that ignores the fact that people can be both black and LGBTQ, and one that is also betrayed by the fact that he’s allowed to have hour-long comedy specials with substantial segments aimed at pissing off transgender people.
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Therein lies the problem with the new Dave Chappelle. He was a beloved comedian thanks to his sketch series that transformed the way comedy shows were made in the early 21st century. But he became a cult icon for leaving the Comedy Central project, turning his back on millions of dollars largely because he wanted to make comedy on his own terms without the pressures of audiences and execs. Now, about 15 years later, he’s become the reactionary comedian he wanted to avoid. In 2019, Chappelle is letting audiences dictate the comedy he creates because so much of his act is about further pissing off people who are offended by his jokes. And his show suffers from that stubbornness.
I’m not one who gets offended by comedy. Maybe me being a straight male allows me the privilege to not be offended by Chappelle’s act. So that’s not the reason his jokes about the LGBTQ community don’t work. They’re just not funny. They’re forced and below Chappelle’s skill set. It’s amazing that at one minute, he’s reaching pure profundity about the difference between how white people are treated during the opioid epidemic and how black folks were treated during the 1980s crack epidemic, and the next he’s calling the LGBTQ community “the alphabet people.”
He spends five minutes doing some bit about L’s, G’s, B’s and T’s in a car that falls pretty flat; it all ends with a joke about a transgender LeBron James dominating the WNBA, along with a Chinese impression. Read that last sentence again. It sounds more like a Larry the Cable Guy sketch than Dave Chappelle. I’m sure if he abandoned these jokes, he’d be less likely to offend a community that is so often denigrated, but it’d also make his show funnier.
I’m not one who gets offended by comedy. Maybe me being a straight male allows me the privilege to not be offended by Chappelle’s act. So that’s not the reason his jokes about the LGBTQ community don’t work. They’re just not funny. They’re forced and below Chappelle’s skill set. It’s amazing that at one minute, he’s reaching pure profundity about the difference between how white people are treated during the opioid epidemic and how black folks were treated during the 1980s crack epidemic, and the next he’s calling the LGBTQ community “the alphabet people.”
He spends five minutes doing some bit about L’s, G’s, B’s and T’s in a car that falls pretty flat; it all ends with a joke about a transgender LeBron James dominating the WNBA, along with a Chinese impression. Read that last sentence again. It sounds more like a Larry the Cable Guy sketch than Dave Chappelle. I’m sure if he abandoned these jokes, he’d be less likely to offend a community that is so often denigrated, but it’d also make his show funnier.
The room just isn’t laughing at these jokes like they used to, and it’s the comedian’s job to adapt—not the audience’s.
One of the most important traits comedians must have is an ability to read the room and adapt their material to make audiences laugh more. It’s why comedians test out their sets across the country before turning them into specials. Chappelle and so many comedians like him who rail against the perceived sensitivity of modern culture have simply refused to read the room. The room just isn’t laughing at these jokes like they used to, and it’s the comedian’s job to adapt—not the audience’s.
When Chappelle truly shines is when he seems to be playing Dave Chappelle, using a tone of voice that indicates he doesn’t really believe that Rihanna is to blame for her abuse at the hands of Chris Brown but that he’s reflecting on his—and society’s—darkest inclinations. There’s true brilliance in the inflection of his voice when he says, “You know what I mean?” about Michael Jackson’s child-molestation allegations. It’s the perfect encapsulation of society’s hang-up over Jackson’s legacy in those five ambiguous-yet-on-the-nose words: It may be true, but nobody really wants to face the impact of that truth. Of course, his jokes about being proud to be molested by Jackson are going to get the most headlines—Chappelle clearly is aware of that. And whether people find them offensive or humorous, I think it's safe to say that he can move on from Jackson jokes (as well as R. Kelly jokes), as they've been the subjects of his standup for 15 years now. His reliance on those topics is beating a dead horse for someone who is supposed to be at the forefront of pop-culture analysis.
When Chappelle is somehow making a connection between the #MeToo movement and stricter abortions laws, or defending Louis C.K. and Kevin Hart, he makes far too many lazy concessions and jumps in logic that don’t hold up against his catalog of brilliant observations. That’s the letdown here. It’s just that his attempts to poke offended folks are the worst parts of his material. They're either the weakest, least-intelligent parts of his schtick, or they're sorely outdated.
The last few minutes of the special are Chappelle’s best. The whole bit is dedicated to Jussie Smollett, who has been given a new French name that should stick from now on. It’s outrageous and subtle at just the right moments. And, most importantly, it’s Chappelle delivering observational comedy on cultural moments and not simply reacting to the feedback he receives in his own tiny bubble. It’s the standout bit and a reminder of the genius we have wanted from Chappelle but only get when he’s not trying to prove to people he can make trans jokes funny.
Dave Chappelle jokes early on that we shouldn’t be offended by his comedy because we chose to click on his face on Netflix. His fans have echoed that sentiment—why be offended by Chappelle if you know what he’s going to do? The logic falls apart because I don’t watch Fox News, and I know what to expect from them, but damn it if they don’t piss me off whenever I hear about what they say. In addition, I also click on Dave Chappelle’s face on Netflix expecting hilariousness. Thankfully, he delivers a lot of that. But it's when he sounds like a grumpy old comedian at odds with the same society for which he used to provide cutting-edge commentary that his comedy suffers. As does his reputation.
When Chappelle truly shines is when he seems to be playing Dave Chappelle, using a tone of voice that indicates he doesn’t really believe that Rihanna is to blame for her abuse at the hands of Chris Brown but that he’s reflecting on his—and society’s—darkest inclinations. There’s true brilliance in the inflection of his voice when he says, “You know what I mean?” about Michael Jackson’s child-molestation allegations. It’s the perfect encapsulation of society’s hang-up over Jackson’s legacy in those five ambiguous-yet-on-the-nose words: It may be true, but nobody really wants to face the impact of that truth. Of course, his jokes about being proud to be molested by Jackson are going to get the most headlines—Chappelle clearly is aware of that. And whether people find them offensive or humorous, I think it's safe to say that he can move on from Jackson jokes (as well as R. Kelly jokes), as they've been the subjects of his standup for 15 years now. His reliance on those topics is beating a dead horse for someone who is supposed to be at the forefront of pop-culture analysis.
When Chappelle is somehow making a connection between the #MeToo movement and stricter abortions laws, or defending Louis C.K. and Kevin Hart, he makes far too many lazy concessions and jumps in logic that don’t hold up against his catalog of brilliant observations. That’s the letdown here. It’s just that his attempts to poke offended folks are the worst parts of his material. They're either the weakest, least-intelligent parts of his schtick, or they're sorely outdated.
The last few minutes of the special are Chappelle’s best. The whole bit is dedicated to Jussie Smollett, who has been given a new French name that should stick from now on. It’s outrageous and subtle at just the right moments. And, most importantly, it’s Chappelle delivering observational comedy on cultural moments and not simply reacting to the feedback he receives in his own tiny bubble. It’s the standout bit and a reminder of the genius we have wanted from Chappelle but only get when he’s not trying to prove to people he can make trans jokes funny.
Dave Chappelle jokes early on that we shouldn’t be offended by his comedy because we chose to click on his face on Netflix. His fans have echoed that sentiment—why be offended by Chappelle if you know what he’s going to do? The logic falls apart because I don’t watch Fox News, and I know what to expect from them, but damn it if they don’t piss me off whenever I hear about what they say. In addition, I also click on Dave Chappelle’s face on Netflix expecting hilariousness. Thankfully, he delivers a lot of that. But it's when he sounds like a grumpy old comedian at odds with the same society for which he used to provide cutting-edge commentary that his comedy suffers. As does his reputation.
