My Night With Chris Rock

I remember watching Chris Rock’s special Never Scared on a Saturday night in 2004 when I was a sophomore in high school. It was my first time seeing a live Chris Rock special after listening to Bigger & Blacker and his other specials a hundred times over the years. I always thought Rock was the greatest comedian to ever touch a mic. I grew up after the peak of George Carlin and Richard Pryor, so they never connected with me the same way Rock did.

I watched the first airing of Never Scared. Then I watched the west coast airing. Then I watched the Sunday airing. Then I went to school on Monday and cited the best lines from the special to all my friends at the lunch table. For those forty minutes, I had the attention of my friends like never before. All thanks to Chris Rock.

I never expected to see a Chris Rock special in person. His last special, Kill the Messenger, was in 2008. He’s a huge movie star. If he decided to tour again or do another special, he’d do it in New York or Los Angeles. He wouldn’t come to North Carolina.

“I’m in Raleigh-Durham on a Wednesday night. I should be at a shitty Knicks game.”

My fiancé surprised me on Christmas with two tickets to see Chris Rock on February 15th at the Durham Performing Arts Center. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even know he was touring, much less playing a show 10-minutes away from me.

When I took my seat, center stage, four rows back, at DPAC on Wednesday night, I didn’t know what to expect. Rock had been out of the spotlight for so long. Aside from hosting The Oscars, he hadn’t been seen in a large capacity since Top Five in 2014.

I knew he wouldn’t be lacking in material. Donald Trump is President. He could have done an entire hour on just Trump and I would have been satisfied. What I got was far more unexpected.

“I fucked up.”

Rock took the stage with his usual swagger and energy. He spoke, and it was like he never left. He opened with a bit on Trump. How he’s not worried about Trump because he’s black, and the future is always brighter than the past for a black man.

He went on to discuss police shootings, bullying, relationships, and plenty more. He was insensitive, on time, pointed, and hilarious. Basically, he was Chris Rock.

But it was when he talked about himself that things became something more than a comedy show.

Rock opened up about his divorce from Malaak Compton, who he had been married to since 1996. He discussed his infidelity, even going as far as naming the three women that he had cheated with. He talked about fighting for custody of his children and having to pay lawyer fees and alimony.

Comics discussing their demons isn’t anything new. But listening to Chris Rock, a major star, talk about his demons felt different. We all knew he got divorced, but the details had been relatively quiet up until this point. They could have remained quiet, but Rock decided to open up about them, and admit that he fucked up.

“I’m just trying to find God, before God finds me.”

That was the theme of Rock’s hour and a half set. He talked as if he hit rock bottom, but not the rock bottom that had God seeking him out. Not the rock bottom of a man who is being raped in jail because he didn’t pay a parking ticket. He doesn’t want to hit that rock bottom. He wants to be able to find God, and start rebuilding his life, before he gets to that point.

The confidence and swagger that he opened the show with didn’t disappear, but there was clear pain in his voice when he spoke about himself and his relationship with his ex-wife and kids. He joked about the situation, because he’s Chris Rock and that’s what he does, but you could tell that he went through some real shit that hurt him.

After the show, my dad commented that he thought Chris talked about himself a bit much. He wasn’t wrong, but it was something that I personally enjoyed because it humanized someone that I’ve admired and put on a pedestal for over a decade. It was almost as if he treated the show like a therapy session, baring his soul to the audience in hopes of acceptance and understanding.

“Love hard, or get the fuck out.”

When Total Blackout hits Netflix in the coming months, everyone is going to hear the same routine that I heard on Wednesday night. It’ll likely be more polished (Durham was the first stop on his tour) and he may have some extra material, but it’ll be largely the same. But seeing the show live, being just feet away from the performer, is a whole different experience.

I’ll watch the special with my fiancé, who couldn’t go with me on Saturday due to an unexpected hospital stay, but it won’t be the same. She’ll laugh, but she won’t have the same experience that I had on Wednesday night. Watching on our television isn’t the same as being in an intimate theater setting. She’ll hear the same material that I heard, but the impact will be different. She won’t see the same man that I saw.

Chris Rock is still the greatest comedian ever in my eyes. He brought his fastball with him on Wednesday night. And he added a change up to his repertoire.