Song For Dave Chappelle
by Zayne Reeves

Like a lot of people, I was disappointed to learn that season three of Chappelle's Show has been put on ice indefinitely. I have been a fan of Dave Chappelle since the late 90s when he was livening up dreary films such as 200 Cigarettes and delivering one ace standup special after another on HBO. Killing Them Softly, one of his best HBO sets, stands up today as a fine document of a gifted standup comedian beginning to find his true voice after years of paying dues and learning his craft on the grueling nightclub circuit. As an actor-for-hire, Chappelle is on par with David Cross and Sarah Silverman; comedians who also happen to be excellent film actors capable of giving fully limned performances in spite of the fact that they are often saddled with pedestrian material. When Chappelle's Show was first announced as part of Comedy Central's lineup three years ago, I found myself thinking "Gee, that's a shame. Network television doesn't have a clue when it comes to comedians like that." I figured that his film work must have dried up and that he needed the money. You have to remember that, before his show channeled the zeitgeist, American sketch comedy was in dire shape as art form and it genuinely looked like a bad career move.

So imagine my surprise when I tuned in and saw an artist being allowed to run on all cylinders. Season one's most famous sketch (Chappelle and co-writer Neal Brennan jokingly refer to them as "skits," a term that they actually deplore) came right away in the inaugural episode and centered around Chappelle as Clayton Bigsby, a blind, black white supremacist. In a particularly nervy bit, Clayton is surrounded outside a gas station by rednecks that taunt and threaten him. Unaware that he is actually the black man being targeted by these racists, Clayton begins hurling the angriest invective of all and encouraging his white "brothers" into action which leaves them in a state of absolute bewilderment. Later in season one, Chappelle imagines what would happen if black people received reparations for slavery (Colin Powell bitch slaps Dick Cheney, FUBU and KFC merge to become a superpower and an Al Roker-like weatherman profanely mocks a clueless white anchor), Jedi knights get caught up in a sex scandal and, in the prescient reality TV satire Trading Spouses, two couples do an interracial partner swap. In the latter sketch, Chappelle portrays both the uptight (and secretly kinky) white husband as well as the Samuel L. Jackson-ish Leonard Washington. Chappelle's Leonard Washington (who also pops up in season two) should be studied religiously by anyone interested in learning how to act in sketch comedy. This includes an awful lot of performers who already have sketch show gigs as most of them mistake attitude for inhabiting a character. The way Leonard instinctively checks the windows whenever he walks into an unfamiliar place to make sure he hasn't been followed and the rage in his eyes when he tells his exchange wife "Bitch, I'll never forgive you for this. Get in the car!" after enduring a couples therapy session are deeply felt acting choices that highlight what a special talent the man possesses. Only Peter Cook was any better at this style of acting although, unlike the more versatile Chappelle, Cook's great genius never translated outside of his miniatures with the notable exception of the original Bedazzled.

In season two, Chappelle harnessed all the momentum and goodwill that he had built up and delivered one knockout episode after another after another. Where the first season had more than its share of clunkers, this one practically hemorrhaged great material and its few middling sketches actually served as merciful breathers between bouts of near asphyxiation. Underrated as a satirist, Chappelle's devastating Black Bush piece eloquently explained to white audiences why a black president could never get away with what our current white one has managed to pull off. Substituting Bush's obnoxious cowboy swagger with its black counterpart, hyperagressive paranoia, Chappelle's Bush responds to a reporter's question as to whether or not oil was an ulterior motive behind the pre-emptive war in Iraq by knocking over a pitcher of water and chasing her out of the room. Watch the real W when he gets hit with a tough question at a press conference and you'll see just how little Chappelle exaggerated. The sketch works to show how preposterous Bush's justification (and later his testy defensiveness in the face of numerous setbacks) of the war in Iraq looks when shown from a different angle. Other celebrated sketches include Wayne Brady's riotous turn in a Training Day takeoff where Brady gets revenge for being mocked earlier in the season by Paul Mooney and, of course, the now legendary Rick James edition of Charlie Murphy's True Hollywood Stories. It spawned the catchphrase "I'm Rick James, bitch!" and is enacted by fans with the same fervor normally reserved for Monty Python. And while I'm sure that Chappelle is deeply grateful that he created something with that sort of impact, its success has everything to do with the current fallout over the show.

A lot of people, Rick James included, seemed to miss Chappelle's point. There is nothing to be celebrated about Rick James' behavior during that time and while there is warmth and affection in his portrayal, Chappelle is also unblinking in showing what a drug addled bastard the man was and how brutishly he treated those around him. Super Freak punches out friends for no reason, orders women to have sex or show him their breasts and, to paraphrase Elvis Costello, attempts to rid the world of cocaine by snorting it all up his nose. It's a damning biography of the man that somehow morphed into a pop culture crowd pleaser on the strength of Dave Chappelle's electrifying performance. On Chris Rock's comedy album, Roll With The New, there is a bit where a man approaches Rock and tells him that his “Niggers vs. Black People” routine "is your Mudbone." I'm sure Chappelle fears that Rick James will become his Mudbone and he's a smart enough man to dread that kind of artistic handcuffing. During a standup gig last year, he grew so frustrated with his audiences' insistence on repeating "I'm Rick James, bitch!" that he called them idiots. In one interview, he half-jokingly complained that the show was ruining his life because audiences interrupt his routine to request that he launch into the character of Tyrone Biggums, the crackhead who has a recurring role throughout both seasons. And then there's that fifty million dollar megadeal he cut with Comedy Central, much of which comes from DVD royalties off season one (the highest grossing DVD of all time) as well as anticipated sales of season two's set.

For many who reach the level of fame and success that Chappelle has achieved it seems to be as much a curse as a blessing. We have a tendency to love our favorite entertainers so much that it either drives them insane or outright kills them; Michael Jackson and Elvis Presley being two of the more egregious examples of what happens when money, unlimited access and arrested emotional development collide head on. Everybody wants to do you favors that you don't really need, your every utterance bespeaks of genius and your name becomes a brand commodity and is no longer your own. As much fun as the perks are, this sort of thing is hell for artists because it robs them of the anonymity they need to observe. Chappelle is savvy enough to recognize this and has apparently second guessed himself to the point of a nervous breakdown because he doesn't want to fall victim to bloat and congratulatory, self-referential material. Unfortunately, this very intelligence also seems to have constricted his ability to overcome the obstacle he so clearly sees in front of him.

I saw Dave Chappelle five years ago when he did a show at Auburn University. He was in good form that night, road testing material he would later nail on an upcoming HBO special. Afterwards, he mingled with audience members and I had the opportunity to speak with him briefly and he was far more charming and friendly then he had to be. I was also offered the chance to co-interview him that night but, to my eternal regret, I turned it down because I thought the other guy (who apparently got to goof off with Chappelle for an hour) was a total idiot and I didn't want to be associated with him. It is my hope that I didn't miss my only chance. If Chappelle's Show ends with season two, and it's still too soon to know with such things, then I just want to say thank you to Dave Chappelle for one of the smartest and most entertaining comedy shows to make the airwaves in my lifetime.

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