Chris Rock: Selective Outrage

The [post-set] idea was for the comics to lend their expert opinion about each joke – entirely unnecessary, given that they landed as they should have. Besides, the incendiary fervor of the closing segment eclipses the rest of it in the immediate memory. ... Everything that comes before the last 10 minutes of "Selective Outrage" is, by the standards of Chris Rock's show at this point in his career, solid if not especially pointed.

It was certainly not as startling as Will Smith hitting him at the Oscars, but his long-awaited response, in his new Netflix stand-up special “Selective Outrage” on Saturday night, had moments that felt as emotional, messy and fierce. It was the least rehearsed, most riveting material in an uneven hour.

Seeing Rock open his performance with jokes about “woke traps” and Elon Musk’s sperm count and OJ Simpson (in 2023!) left me feeling weary for what was to come. ... Much like he did in Tamborine, Rock shifts his focus in the second half of his special from observations about the world to look inward at himself and how he’s reacting to the world now that he’s single again in his 50s.

For all that he willingly takes aim at the Pinkett-Smiths, Selective Outrage has little emotional insight. And, save for a few moments of nervous tension, the live broadcast is as pre-heated as, well, airplane food.

Selective Outrage is selectively funny at best and only comes fully to life as the final curtain beckons.

On Saturday, March 4, audiences were treated to an hour of the comedian toggling between reactionary and woke gags, along with racial/sexual/cultural observations, before he unloaded on Smith and his wife Jada Pinkett Smith for about eight minutes with a year’s worth of pent-up vitriol. Like his earlier material, Rock’s verbal counterpunches were at times funny, insightful and sometimes righteous. They also included some of the lowest blows ever directed at individuals in the context of an entertainment program.

The last 10 minutes, in which he accuses Smith of “selective outrage,” felt like an organic, angry rant—and was all the more powerful for its departure from Rock’s usual mode. It’s a shame that most of the rest of the night was forgettable. ... For much of the special, Rock seemed to be working the speed bag, getting his energy up for his impressive knockout blow to Smith. As live television, it was intermittently interesting, then briefly compelling; as comedy, it will be a minor entry in Rock’s estimable stand-up catalog.

“Selective Outrage” felt like top-of-mind observations, uninterested in deeper scrutiny or even overall cohesiveness. ... Technically, you could argue his point of focus, his structure, and the very existence of his special shows he’s aware of the unprecedented attention he’s receiving. But you could just as easily argue that by not earning it, he’s just showing his ass.

Rock’s signature delivery became a lifeline, elevating the only mildly amusing, and sustaining the breath in even the drabbest material. None of the jokes will rise to the level of iconic, or even memorable, I’m afraid. ... His delivery works when nothing else does—and, in “Selective Outrage,” little did.

The biggest failure of Selective Outrage is not Rock himself, but everything around him — the direction, the staging, and the abysmal pre- and post-shows. ... The special’s final ten minutes, in which Rock finally takes on Will Smith and the Oscars, are the strongest part of the show. In fact, the special improves steadily from about the halfway point. ... The whole thing almost rights itself … and then that sloppy, excruciating post-show kicks in.

Nothing in Selective Outrage raised my hackles. I didn’t even get a semi-hackle. My hackles were flaccid. ... This was live, but it felt canned.