Aziz Ansari
Aziz Ansari’s new Netflix special, Live at Madison Square Garden, is funny. There’s no doubt that Ansari is a man who can make people laugh, so if you’re seeking some good stand-up comedy, this is not an hour that will waste your time.
But this special is not cousin-Harris-munchin’-on-Cinnabon funny. It’s more isn’t-it-weird-sometimes-how-we-treat-one-another funny. Much like his previous Netflix special, 2013’s Buried Alive, Live at Madison Square Garden is a work predicated on more than just silly voices and jumping around. It’s clear Ansari is trying develop a more personal, serious style with his material, one most notably perfected by Ansari’s friend and influence Louis C.K.
His new style is vulnerable, honest and intimate. By the second or third minute of the special, as Ansari launches into a bit on how ridiculously scary the idea of emigrating to America must’ve been for people like his parents, the grand setting of Madison Square Garden is completely neutralized. Ansari is no longer at the level of elite fame that selling out Madison Square Garden requires. He is just a guy sharing some funny thoughts with a crowd of friends.
His voice throughout many of his jokes goes surprisingly quiet, almost to the point of whispering. It stands in stark contrast to the high levels of volume and energy that made him famous. That kind of comedy isn’t completely absent here — Ansari occasionally touches on funny voices and loud impersonations — but they’re all dedicated to making a point now. There is value to his words beyond eliciting laughs.
Ansari spends the special backed by a large digital screen, and its decor changes as the topics do. As he talks about immigration (“It’s amazing that someone in your family, at some point, was just like, ‘You know what? f— China.’”), it’s an American flag. As he discusses why he should be a vegetarian but won’t (“Vegetables really need to step their game up”), it’s a nice countryscape. As he talks about creepy dudes (“They’re everywhere!”) it’s the word “men” repeated over and over in simple blue letters. And as he talks about his new relationship (“It’s weird being in the magical zone and know[ing] the magic is going to change soon”) the screen turns to a pink floral pattern.
On a night filled with discussion of such real topics, it seemed only right that the biggest laughs came straight from reality. Ansari asks someone in the crowd who had recently started texting a member of the opposite sex to come to the stage. A twentysomething woman from the audience brings her phone up and Ansari reads through the text conversation aloud, riffing on the behavior of both the guy and the girl. It was not carefully constructed material that relied on wordplay or timing or relevancy to make the piece successful; it was reading aloud the pure awkwardness and absurdity of how we interact. That first text after meeting, the casual suggestions of getting together, the unsaid rules of texting — they are a part of our dating culture, for better or worse. Sometimes, we need to be reminded how bizarre they are.
The success of that bit marked the crowd’s growing acceptance of what Ansari had in store for that night. The audience didn’t get any Kanye stories or Cousin Harris impersonations. In listening to interviews and podcasts about Ansari, it’s clear that this is who he’s always wanted to be. He’s a smart, introspective guy who was never going to use his platform to stick with an all-out spasm of rap jokes and high-pitched fun. This is where he wants to be: talking to an audience in Madison Square Garden as though they’re a group of friends.
It’s interesting watching a comic try to evolve into something he wants to be instead of something his fans want him to be and actually getting away with it. I won’t go as far to say this special announces his arrival as a Louis-esque talent of social awareness and comedy, but it is certainly a huge step in that direction. It had the same personal style of Buried Alive but was much funnier, a clear sign that Ansari is coming close to finding the balance between the two that will make both him and his fans happy.
But it isn’t until the end of the special, as confetti falls, that we realize how far Ansari has come from Cousin Harris munchin’ on Cinnabon. As applause pours in, the young comic pulls his mother and father from beside the stage and introduces them to the crowd. And it’s not hokey or ironic or cheesy’ it’s just a nice moment — a fitting end to an intimate evening.
“Hey, these are my parents!” he said with a big smile on his face, so happy that they could finally meet his friends for the night.
