"chappelle's specials"

Netflix

Dave Chappelle has been gone a looong time. 

At least, that's what he tells us in his new Netflix specials, "The Age of Spin" and "Deep in the Heart of Texas." Two successive, raucously unhinged hours of Dave-being-Dave, these poignantly timed madcap aphorisms (which rival the likes of Louis C.K. and Jerry Seinfeld at their best) oblige us to walk hand-in-hand with Chappelle as he leads us down another dark, winding road of American history, filled with tales of chronically embittered race relations and cross-cultural requiem — handily delivered with his signature (giddy) rapacious smile. As fans of the actor/ comedian's razor-sharp witticisms have come to predict, Chappelle's legacy as a performer remains the indelible reason he's been welcomed back to the spotlight with such open arms. His ideas, stories, monologues, which ostensibly have been bottled up for over a decade now, are as scarce and sacred as ever. And the misguided attacks leveled at Dave for walking away from a $50 million contract, every preposterous insult ranging from bouts of mental illness, to a complete "show biz breakdown," are muzzled here as the entertainer's enigmatic return becomes overshadowed by the moment's sheer, overwhelming joy. Even if we were never given a proper explanation as to why Dave left, we still know deep within our hearts that nobody tackles comedy quite like big daddy Dave. And after all, isn't that knowledge more important than tabloid gossip itself?

While things certainly have changed since Chappelle's departure from the public eye back in 2005, hearing him speak about all things Flint, Netflix's "Making a Murderer," and Senator Bernie Sanders feels like a 10-year-old time capsule being unearthed. And while he gets in some good laughs about the '80s and '90s (he devotes much of his material to meeting O.J. Simpson on four separate occasions), one obvious change agent, Trump, goes completely unnamed in both specials. It's as if the leader's omniscient non-presence weighs so heavily on the hearts and minds of Dave's audience that he knows it would be better to prevent speaking his name so as not to provide the kind of due deference he allotted the prior Republican administration. In Dave's last two specials for instance, "Killing Them Softly" (2000) and "For What It's Worth" (2004), his no-holds barred approach to the Bush White House was a refreshing reprieve for those of us who couldn't quite handle the daily onslaught of the war on terror or crusade against gay marriage. Yet hearing Dave come to the defense of the Dixie Chicks back when things started to sour for our side emboldened his broad, cross-over appeal, mainly since he too was privy to the inherent pitfalls of self-inflicted celebrity maladministration. Which is why, to this day, his humor seeks to disarm rather than provoke, and his thinly veiled attacks on Trump (he refers to a racist, "pussy-grabbing" superhero at one point), help to skewer our own downtrodden feelings about the 2016 election. Dave knows that if you keep calling attention to someone, then they can theoretically only become stronger as a result, so why not find new and inventive ways to attack them rather than drowning in an endless sea of self-pity and despair? 

These shows are also healthy reminders that Dave works best when he's telling a story. Just like the great stand-ups contemporaries before him: Chris Rock, Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor — Chappelle takes us down colorful thoroughfares of congenital minutiae, painting vivid landscapes delivered so eloquently we can almost envision ourselves right there with him. In fact, his Kevin Hart bit makes for such a funny and surreal aside it would feel at home among Charlie Murphy's True Hollywood Stories of days past. The monologue also succeeds because Chappelle has employed a new sidekick in his equally hilarious son, who may or may not be as funny (or even funnier) than his old man. Only a tried and true artist like Dave can tie something as exigent as Brown vs. Board of Education to being called the "N" word at a traffic light, or utter the word decapitation in the same sentence as "dick pic" — yet it is these many uncomfortable, sometimes unspeakable truths about human behavior and our nation's history which have earned him such an awe-inspired comeback. The fastest mic slinger in the west, Dave Chappelle is still our preferred interpreter when it comes to issues of race, political correctness, and the African American diaspora (he drags Bill Cosby through the proverbial mud at every conceivable turn, reminding other revered Black entertainers, musicians, and comedians that they have a responsibility to not only their art but to their people, and if that gets sullied by any personal indiscretions, they WILL pay a price for it). Nevertheless, Chappelle falters when it comes to equality for women and the LGBTQ community, succeeding only when he (rightly) points out that in the age of Facebook, Google, and Twitter we've been desensitized to literally everything — including tragedy itself. So in that respect, yes Dave, a lot has changed since you've been gone. 

But we sure are glad to have you back living in it with us.