After an accusation of sexual misconduct was leveled against him in January of last year, Aziz Ansari took a break from the public eye for several months, before slowly doing small gigs at comedy clubs around the US. This blossomed into a full tour that eventually took him to his parents’ home country of India and back to his homebase of New York.
His new Netflix comedy special “Right Now” is the culmination of that tour, recorded over three nights at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. But immediately upon first glimpse, as he enters through a side door on the street directly onto the stage, director/cameraman Spike Jonze in tow, something’s different. Gone is the impeccable tailored suit and Italian leather shoes. Gone is the energetic “Treat Yo Self!” swagger in his step that he made famous in his role as Tom Haverford in seven seasons of “Parks & Recreation.” Dressed in a Metallica shirt with jeans and Vans kicks, this was a new Aziz. Not merely dressed-down, he looked exactly as if he had indeed just walked in off the street, not as headlining performer but curious passerby.
Right off the bat, Ansari addresses the specter hanging over the proceedings, mentioning the spectrum of emotions and feelings he went through. Sadness, embarrassment, humiliation, he enumerates. He felt terrible that the anonymous accuser had felt the way she did. And, he says, he hopes he’s grown, made progress, moved forward in the last year and changed.
He then segues to his bread and butter: barbed observations about society, particularly the present moment of woke culture and occasional one-upsmanship in political correctness. Some of these are really sharp, good jokes, playing at the tension of white people guilt, the performative enjoyment of “Crazy Rich Asians,” and whether or not one has written off R. Kelly and Michael Jackson based on their own sordid history of sexual proclivities. One especially sharp bit takes us to task for only caring once there were “binge-able forms of entertainment” on the topic.
While some jokes land, others don’t so much die as have an air of defensiveness about them, especially when Ansari talks about woke culture going too far. It’s natural to assume these are things he’s wrestled with since the allegation, but it can be tough to ignore that the allegation in question seemed particularly odious because Ansari had written a thoughtful book about relationships and dating called “Modern Romance” that was well-received and sold well. Still, when Ansari is on fire, he’s especially cutting, as when he polls people about a scandal only to chastise the audience for their need to chime in and be heard, no matter the circumstance.
Thankfully this special has other topics, too. His bits on his own experiences with racism, now with a new lens as part of an interracial couple, are still great. He still has sentimental parts talking about his parents and grandmother, whom he visited in India, which are genuinely sweet.
Ansari stays seated through much of the hour, another marked change. He’s up and moving sometimes, but these are few and far between, with a different energy to them. Spike Jonze shoots the special in a grainy 16mm, giving an old-school look. He’s onstage much of the time, close to Ansari in intimate framings, especially during parts where he whispers into the mike in more reflective moments.
For all the solemn vibes put out, one can’t ignore that this is a series of strategic choices. From wardrobe to location (home court advantage), the selection of Spike Jonze to the stool he’s on; this is a different, changed Aziz, the special says. Ansari even makes the subtext text, explicitly saying that “old Aziz is dead.” But for all the projected two steps forward, there’s still a noticeable step back as well. He apologizes for fat-shaming his cousin Harris in previous specials but ends the bit with another size joke. He isn’t quite introspective enough, especially in discussing the allegation, choosing the safer societal examination over the personal.
It’s too much to expect him to magically win the crowd over, but perhaps by being more vulnerable and exposed he would come across in a better light. But as semi-metamorphoses go, this still feels like a light introduction. There’s a lot to laugh at, but still room to grow.
