Review:
South Park
“Safe Space”
The other day I was in a light hearted conversation about the fact that Australia lacks a space program. I made the questionably poor joke that if Australia were to have a space program, it would probably involve a giant boomerang being thrown at the moon. The recipient of this joke shot me a scathing glare. Fearing that I may have personally offended this person, I paused to ask, “Is that racist?”, to which they succinctly snapped back with, “It’s culturally insensitive.” The conversation came to a halt, with this new found silence being occupied by a palpable sense of disapproval; I was a heartless and inconsiderate demon for making such an “appalling” comment. While I’m not claiming to be a comedian, the mere notion of a giant boomerang going to the moon is obviously absurd, and should have been interpreted as a joke. Even if it was a bad one. I’m usually opposed to the anecdotal, but the offended in my story seems to be the exact demographic that South Park are targeting in “Safe Space”.
True to the continuity of the season, the disease that is politically correct smarm continues to infect the town at a rapid rate. In this week’s “Safe Space”, the show is honing in on the subtle intricacies of shaming that have grown to permeate our socially aware society. After posting shirtless photos on social media, Cartman sits teary eyed and blubbering to PC Principal about the negative criticisms of his “buff” body. Never one to tolerate insensitivities, PC Principal assigns Butters the ruthless task of filtering through Eric’s social media accounts in order to delete all of the negative comments. After his first night on the job, a sleepless and defeated Butters hands his report to Eric, before sighing, “It’s a pretty brutal job sifting through that darkness.” Impressed with Butters efforts to facilitate Cartman’s deluded self-esteem, PC Principal then assigns Butters with some new clients within Vin Diesel, Demi Lovato, and an overweight Steven Seagal. While Steven Seagal feels like an obvious target for bodyshaming, the presence of Vin Diesel and Demi Lovato go to show that even the most “perfect” of celebrities can be overbearingly vulnerable to criticisms. And that’s the point that is being driven home: if you’re going to post things on the internet, be prepared for the criticisms that will inevitably come your way. It’s perhaps best summated when Butters groans, “Lena Dunham put a photo of her asshole on Twitter and only wants the positive comments.” Ouch.
Randy, meanwhile, is being charity shamed by the Whole Foods checkout clerk to donate money to feed starving children in third world countries. While I’ve grown tired of Randy as of late, his plight is relatable, as a majority of us can recollect a time where we’ve been practically blackmailed into donating, with our sense of pride and dignity being held as a metaphorical hostage. However, it’s difficult to feel any true sense of pity for Randy, as he has was the loudest advocate for wanting to establish a Whole Foods in South Park just so they could improve the towns image. And that’s the thing: it’s always been a veneer. Although he and the other townsfolk are attempting to convey a sense of social awareness and moral righteousness, collectively, they refuse to embody any of the positive qualities that they apparently believe in. It’s ultimately a hollow sentiment, as the general South Park populous love the benefits of their new moral elitism, yet they don’t want to do any of the actual work to actually commit to it. But, hey, maybe Randy just loves shopping at Whole Foods because he can’t get his kombucha anywhere else. Or — more accurately — maybe he just likes being seen buying kombucha because of what it says about him.
In retaliation, Randy stars in a series of commercials, by which he walks through an impoverished African village in an attempt to prevent charity shaming. While the juxtaposition between these hunger starved children and Randy’s shallow plight are startling and hilarious, these advertisements are more cleverly constructed than they seem. Perhaps the most poignant touch is the somber rendition of “Amazing Grace” which is a hilarious appeal to patriotism, as if to suggest, “To support our cause is to support America, and you don’t hate America do you?” In that case, you better fucking support the cause. But fundamentally, it’s hard not to appreciate the beautiful irony in the fact that Randy is using charity shaming to stop charity shaming.
Musical numbers have been extremely prevalent this season, with Cartman leading a rendition of the showtune-esque “Safe Space” which literally shows the most sensitive of South Park’s characters in sparse boxes. It’s a comical little tune, as it’s hard to not giggle at the concept of “bully proof windows”, but it truly excels upon the introduction of a character appropriately named Reality. Reality is conveyed as a classic machiavellian villain, moustache and all, who attempts to breakdown this sense of fabricated invulnerability. It takes an interesting turn, however, when Reality actually breaks from the questionably fictitious world of “Safe Space” as a soliloquized music video, and breaks into the real world to haunt the already exhausted Butters. This manifests itself in one of the funniest moments of the season, where Butters runs through the school naked, bombarding the pre-schoolers class screaming, “RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, YOU LITTLE FUCKERS, THE MAN IS COMING”, before jumping out of the second-story window.
Unaware of their stupid irony — as always — the town holds a gala event to raise awareness and prevent the perpetuation of charity shaming. It is then that Reality shows up to ruin the entire event, giving one of the most potent speeches in the shows entire history. It’s as if Reality is acting as the mouth piece for Stone and Parker, delivering the pure fucking stroke of genius that is, “The world isn’t one big liberal arts college campus. We eat too much, we take our spoiled lives for granted. Feel a lil’ bad about it sometimes. Fuck you, you’re all pricks.” Obviously, the only appropriate course of action to respond to what is essentially a ferocious serving of truth, is to have Reality sentenced to death by hanging as the credits roll over his swaying corpse. But with the personification of Reality dead, it really feels as if the writers are trying to nail the point that reality is indeed dead in South Park, with the once humble town having become a deluded fantasy land. But, it has to end at some stage.
With each and every passing episode of the shows nineteenth season, I’m coming to realise more and more that we in the privileged western world are living in a realm of self-deluded narcissists who prioritise fostering the moral self-righteousness of their own brand. Anthony Jeselnik’s latest Netflix special, “Thoughts and Prayers”, perfectly encapsulates this bullshit-drenched mentality when he targets those on social media who post their “thoughts and prayers” when a public tragedy breaks. ‘Do you know what that’s worth? Nothing. You’re not giving your time, money or compassion. All you are doing is saying, “Don’t forget about me today.’” And he’s right. ‘These people are like wedding photographers who only take selfies.’
