‘Anybody Who Says Words Hurt Has Never Been Punched In The Face’

“Last thing I need is another mad rapper.”

That was the consistent refrain – and comedic build up- to the mic dropping end of Chris Rock’s live-streamed standup, “Selective Outrage,” which makes Rock the first artist to perform a live streaming Netflix special.

It aired nearly a year to the day after Rock was slapped by Will Smith at the 2022 Oscars, causing international consternation about the role of live comedy, the showcasing of masculinity and the intent versus the impact of a joke. The comedian stepped to the Netflix stage to clap back at the Smiths, resurrect jokes about Michael Jackson and OJ Simpson, discuss Megan Markle and take aim at some new interpretations of woke culture and victimhood. The show, produced by Joel Gallen, tried to take a nation to task – democrat or republican, white or black, rich or poor – on the mental absurdities of selectively complaining, venting, agreeing or disagreeing with any number of hot-button issues.

When Chris Rock plays the dozens, he usually wins. I knew not to bother keeping score when he started off the night with this:

“I’mma try to do a show tonight without offending nobody . You never know who might get triggered. You say the wrong thing. … gotta watch out. You know what people say, words hurt…Anybody who says words hurt has never been punched in the face.”

For the next hour or so, the comedian proceeded to provide reasons for various people to be offended. He showcased his signature narrative style by weaving stories about Elon Musk’s ejaculate, his parenting style with daughter Lola and the financial implications of dating women in their 40s and 50s. He talked of corporations who post messages about issues like climate change and racism (Lululemon and Subaru were name checked in bits that arguably went on for too long.) He also spoke of his ex-wife, the economics of light skin privilege, colorism, interracial dating, Ukraine, a hard to listen to bit about abortion and sex. Lots of oral sex. The running joke was that he was doing a comedy show on Saturday Night. Live. But the real groundbreaking moment here was that Netflix provided a stage and a mic so the world could tune in to possibly see how Rock might, in the words of the playground kids, get his licks back at Will Smith.

Through pointy self-deprecation and double entendre, Rock didn’t disappoint in that aspect. (Though he certainly will have succeeded, should more people view this special, to have freshly pissed off a new contingent of folks who will be justified in their offense.)

“Will Smith practices selective outrage,” Rock said on stage. “Because everybody knows what the f**k happen. Everybody that really knows, knows I had nothing to do with that shit. I didn’t have no entanglements…. She hurt him way more than he hurt me…. And who’s he hit? Me. A [man] he know he can beat…. ”

The commentary about the slap and the Smiths was a full rebuttal of the sort that is best listened to without children within earshot. He made a joke about wanting to watch Will Smith in Emancipation, which streamed on Apple TV, simply because he wanted to watch Smith get whipped by “massa.” Still, it was jarring, given that earlier in the evening he said he didn’t believe in victimhood. Then he ended the evening by saying the whole incident was started by Jada Smith, before he proceeded to call Jada Smith out of her name.

“Nobody was picking on her,” Rock added, also stating that he didn’t fight Will Smith back at the time because his mother taught him not to fight “in front of white people.” But also he added, as many speculated back then, he didn’t hit back because due to his smaller-than-Smith stature he didn’t think he would win a fight with Smith anyway.

Prior to the standup, Rock’s friends gathered for a pre-show to gas him up, to roast him and to show him appreciation. Leslie Jones explained how Rock got her an audition before Lorne Michaels for SNL back in the day. And Arsenio Hall told a nice story about Rock appearing on the Arsenio Hall Show, which was popular in the 1990s. Paul McCartney. Sarah Silverman. Adam Sandler. Ice T. Rosie Perez. All manner of folk saluted Rock in this pre-show warmup hosted , quite adroitly, by host and comedian Ronnie Chieng. [Netflix says the pre-show and the following post-show hosted by David Spade would not be available for viewing after the livestream events. Also worth noting: Netflix engineers and production did a good job. Stream quality was excellent on both phone and television, closed captioning was mostly accurate, switches between locations was seamless and didn’t glitch and, though my phone was a few seconds faster than my television interface, nothing appeared to have glitched or slowed.]

It was after that gassing up that Rock, wearing white jeans, a white t-shirt and a white button up accented with a Prince symbol chain, proceeded to own the stage Saturday night. He paced. He smiled, He grimaced. He took up space. He got a standing ovation or two. But he also was met, sometimes, with unsure titters. He brought her name up and called her beautiful and absolutely no one wanted him to make a terrible joke about Beyonce – and he didn’t. But folks held their breath just in case. He spent many long minutes setting up the Musk joke, which is NSFW, so won’t be repeated in this column. He also spent quite some time referencing Michael Jackson’s and R. Kelly’s sexual allegations and charges – jokes only folks of a certain age would understand.

“You know the type of people who play Michael Jackson songs but won’t play R Kelly?” Rock asked the crowd at Baltimore’s Hippodrome Theatre. “Same crime. One of them just got better songs. You play “Wanna be starting something?” Issa party! Play “Bump and Grind,” now you an activist…. Everybody is scared.”

Comics have long lamented that standup is fraught and more difficult nowadays due to shifting pop culture censorship standards. Rock acknowledged those concerns, and as he always does, offset the beginning of each joke by explaining how much he loved every single one of the people he proceeded to roast.

Earlier in the evening he said that one of the things Americans are addicted to is attention, and he talked about social media and the hunt for cheap likes. The night ended with Rock dropping the mic, raising his hands high and soaking in the applause.

I admit I wanted, and was ready, to hear Rock’s rebuttal. I can’t think of a single other comedy show more singularly anticipated due to the possibility of a response to a newsmaking physical altercation on the Oscars telecast. Rock didn’t get to it specifically until the dead end of his one-hour show, for maybe ten minutes. But now a year after the assaults happened, I was surprised at the vehemence of what Rock said and how he explained it. That part of the performance – or testimonial, depending upon how you view this – was gristly and raw. I know some people will say it was inappropriate and wild. Others will say it’s standup, so it will by definition be shocking and wild. Even more will say it is justified given the offense and that Rock didn’t say anything that other folks hadn’t said first. There were moments of the evening where I truly guffawed (when he said he didn’t want to make any other rappers mad,) moments where I shook my head (the colorism jokes specifically) and moments where I was reminded why Rock is one of the best in comedy. We will all be talking about this, and dissecting this, for a long while yet. Perhaps Rock addressed the Smith situation in the best way he knows how. Yet I’m mostly left thinking that the Oscar slap really, really hurt. In more ways than one.