Comedy Has A Netflix Problem
Comedy is bigger than ever, Impractical Jokers’ Sal Vulcano marveled as we spoke in June. When he wanted to be a stand-up comic as a kid, people looked at him as if he had three heads. Now, “there are more comedians than ever. There are more people trying to be comics, there are more theater comedians, there are more arena acts than ever, more specials than ever.”
What’s behind the boom? There are many factors, of course, but to sum up the current era in a single word?
Netflix.
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With a crazy-huge library of stand-up specials and new ones dropping every month, Netflix has raised the visibility and viability of stand-up like no other. The streamer is also padding pocketbooks, paying big-name comics astronomical sums. In the past decade, Chris Rock reportedly landed $40 million for two specials, Dave Chappelle got $60 million for three and Jerry Seinfeld pocketed $100 million for specials and the streaming rights to Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.
So, what’s the problem? Despite the positives, Netflix still represents some real dangers. While the streamer has been a ray of sunshine for many comedians, remember that intense light creates shadows as well.
The Glut
“The streamers, they’ll put out like 50 specials, 100 specials a year,” Vulcano says. That’s great if you’re a comedian who lands one of the deals. Think of the exposure! But with so much comedy content to choose from, will anybody watch yours?
“I’m competing with everything that’s ever been made,” comic Neal Brennan explained on the Joe Rogan Experience. “Is (my new special) better than The Godfather? And every comedy special?”
“Yep, all the old stuff, all the new stuff, everything all together,” agreed Rogan. “It’s an insane time just to try to captivate people’s attention now. It’s an insane proposition. There’s just so much available.”
A challenge for sure, but that didn’t stop Rogan from signing with — you guessed it — Netflix for a live streaming special next month.
Who Owns Your Comedy?
For comics without a huge national reputation, how do you say no to Netflix? Accepting that offer seems like a no-brainer, but the deal isn’t without its costs. “With entities like Netflix, they own your special for the duration of it,” comic Ali Siddiq has told me. “Somebody owns a part of your life.”
That’s why Siddiq has resisted the siren song of huge streamers after early disappointments with specials on Comedy Central. “Me going the independent route is important to the legacy of my children, to be able to own the rights to my material, to my life.” He’s amassed tens of millions of views on YouTube for his latest series of specials, all through independent means.
The Lorne Michaels Paradox
But the biggest conundrum Netflix poses for comedy is the same one that Lorne Michaels brings to Saturday Night Live, embracing controversial comics embroiled in public scandal. Shane Gillis tells homophobic, racist and sexist jokes on podcasts? NBC will kick him off the cast but Michaels will sponsor his triumphant return, all in the name of social relevancy.
Netflix is even worse. Sure, it produces pro-LGBTQ+ documentaries like Outstanding: A Comedy Revolution. It’s right there in your comedy queue next to transphobic specials from Dave Chappelle and Ricky Gervais. Where does Netflix stand? Wherever it can to drive cultural conversation, even if that means playing both sides of the culture wars.
It’s all under the guise of giving people “options,” according to Robbie Praw, Vice President of Stand-up and Comedy Formats for Netflix. “Some people’s favorite thing to do on a Saturday night may be to watch a Dave Chapelle special,” he told Vulture this year. “For some people, it may be Taylor Tomlinson or Mae Martin or Sarah Silverman or John Mulaney or Chris Rock. And we don’t want to block those choices for our members.”
But what happens when Chappelle’s rhetoric carries the potential for real-life harm? That wouldn’t happen, said Netflix head honcho Ted Sarandos before backing off the obvious falsehood inherent in that statement. “I 100 percent believe that content onscreen can have impact in the real world, positive and negative,” Sarandos backtracked, while still vowing to keep specials like Chappelle’s The Closer on Netflix.
The world’s most powerful platform for comedy acknowledges the potential harm in painful rhetoric but offers it anyway in the name of options. And let’s be honest — this isn’t a “freedom of choice” argument as much as Netflix knowing that controversy drives clicks. Maybe a subscriber hasn’t jumped on the service for a while, but what the heck, they're probably curious why everyone is so mad at Matt Rife (or Tom Segura or Rob Schneider). It’s a natural desire to see what all the fuss is about.
As it’s turning out, Netflix is a joke — but for all the wrong reasons.
