
Comedians Ignore Human Rights Watch Saudi Arabia Plea
When your comedy tour sponsors also sponsor state executions, maybe it's time to reconsider your booking agent's life choices.
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From Saudi Arabia gigs to network cancellations, comedy's biggest names are navigating a minefield where punchlines can become pink slips faster than you can say 'that's what she said.'
"You can't joke about anything anymore." If comedy had a theme song for the past decade, this would be it – played on repeat at every comedy club, podcast studio, and late-night writers' room in America.
For years, we've heard this refrain echoing through comedy circles like a broken record nobody wants to fix. Joe Rogan has turned cancel culture paranoia into a cottage industry on his podcast. Dave Chappelle has made defending free speech his second career, especially when facing criticism over trans jokes or Middle East politics. Even Elon Musk, the world's richest comedy nerd, declared that comedy had basically become illegal. (Coming from a guy whose idea of peak humor is naming his kid after a WiFi password, that's saying something.)
But now things have gotten genuinely weird. With Stephen Colbert's "Late Show" canceled by CBS and Jimmy Kimmel suspended by ABC – two hosts who made Trump-roasting their nightly bread and butter – comedy's heavy hitters are making some eyebrow-raising career moves. Their solution to American censorship concerns? Pack up and head to Saudi Arabia, obviously.
Starting next week, comedy's A-list – including Chappelle, Bill Burr, and Kevin Hart – will perform at a massive festival in Riyadh. You know, that bastion of free speech and human rights where dissent is about as welcome as a pork chop at a Bar Mitzvah. The optics were questionable from the start, but the timing now feels like a masterclass in ironic career planning.
Tim Dillon, a comic whose nihilistic sensibility makes Nietzsche look optimistic, bragged on Rogan's show about scoring $375,000 for the Saudi gig. Plot twist: he got fired from the festival yesterday for podcast comments. In a move that would make Alanis Morissette weep with joy, Dillon then criticized America's comedy crackdown while defending Kimmel's suspension.
"It's wrong to pretend it's because the show sucked or because it was losing eyeballs or money," Dillon wrote, apparently aiming at right-leaning comedians who celebrated Kimmel's downfall. "Clearly it was a politically motivated hit job." Credit where credit's due – at least someone's being brutally honest about this mess.
"Sure, it's easy to eye-roll at late-night hosts getting standing ovations for orange man jokes. Many of us, myself included, found some of that material about as fresh as gas station sushi. But dismissing this situation feels dangerously glib now. When Kimmel made presidential jokes, he knew he had a target painted on his back. Trump had made his intentions crystal clear, calling for Kimmel's cancellation long before ABC pulled the trigger Wednesday."
After CBS axed "The Late Show" (citing "purely financial" reasons that sound about as believable as "I'm washing my hair tonight"), Colbert responded to Trump's ominous social media post – "I hear Jimmy Kimmel is next" – by pointing at the camera: "No, no, absolutely not Kimmel. I am the martyr. There's only room for one on this cross."
Turns out there's plenty of room on that cross. At this point, nobody knows how big this thing is going to get. We're living in uncharted comedy territory, and comedians are scrambling to figure out the new rules of engagement. What's a network comic supposed to do when faced with these kinds of threats? How will Lorne Michaels handle SNL's cold open when it returns in two weeks? And how will Jimmy Fallon navigate "The Tonight Show" waters?
On Thursday's "Late Show," Colbert called Kimmel's situation "blatant censorship." Meanwhile, Fallon took the diplomatic route, basically throwing his hands up and saying, "To be honest with you all, I don't know what's going on – no one does." Classic Fallon – when in doubt, stay aggressively neutral.
Watching comedians navigate this thorny landscape reminds me of a 2003 trip I took to Moscow for a Times piece about Russian artists bringing American musicals to post-Soviet audiences. Vladimir Putin was only a couple years into his presidency, and the government hadn't yet perfected their current approach to silencing critics. But I caught hints of caution from artists, including flamboyant pop star Philipp Kirkorov.
Kirkorov was producing "Chicago" and playing Billy Flynn to packed houses. When I called him a star during our backstage interview, he corrected me through his translator: "I am not a star. I am a Kremlin star." At the time, I was confused. Now I get it – he was playing it safe, making sure his regime loyalty was crystal clear.
Fast-forward two decades, and every artist I interviewed for that piece has either died or fled Russia – except Kirkorov. He stayed, kept his mouth shut about politics, and tried to work within the system. But in strongman countries, politics has a habit of finding you whether you want it or not.
In 2023, Kirkorov attended a private party with scantily clad celebrities during wartime. Once photos leaked, attendees faced jail time and fines. Kirkorov's punishment was particularly humiliating – canceled concerts, public apologies, and a cringeworthy hospital visit to sing for wounded Russian soldiers in the Donbas.
He tried to stay apolitical, avoid the war topic, and steer clear of controversy. But when you're living under authoritarian rule, neutrality is a luxury that can evaporate overnight.
In a bizarre pop culture collision, Fallon actually did a bit about Kirkorov on "The Tonight Show" this past May, responding to a fan letter claiming they looked alike. After showing his audience a photo of the glittery, bushy-haired Russian performer, Fallon threw on a wig and fake mustache for laughs.
The bit played on the obvious contrast between Fallon's boy-next-door image and Kirkorov's campy flamboyance. But in our rapidly shifting climate for comedy and free expression, where Fallon might be the last host standing at 11:30 PM, he might discover he has more in common with that "Kremlin star" than he ever imagined.
Welcome to modern comedy, where the punchlines are political and the politics are no joke.
When your comedy tour sponsors also sponsor state executions, maybe it's time to reconsider your booking agent's life choices.
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