Matt Rife’s latest comedy special appeared on Netflix today with relatively little buzz. No controversial headlines, no social media backlash. It is a far cry from his debut which led to accusations of first sexism, and then ableism when he doubled down on the more problematic parts of his stand up.
Rife seemingly wants a do-over of his poorly received debut, returning to his roots as a “crowd work” comedian, a skill he popularized on TikTok before landing his first Netflix hour. The format has been shoehorned into what is being billed as Netflix’s “first crowd work special”—just under an hour of spontaneous jokes made at the expense of his audience. It provides Rife with a high-stakes chance to redeem himself with what he knows best, and what his audience loves: a good roast.
In the trailer, and in the special itself, Rife is quick to pass the blame saying “you are equally at fault for how this goes as I am, OK?” to his Charlotte audience. This isn’t entirely fair. Only one person in the room is a professional comedian with a Netflix special, and it seems like an easy excuse to blame a boring audience rather than himself.
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The entire special is centered around the concept of dreams, hence its title: Lucid. Bizarrely, Rife never actually brings up the topic of lucid dreaming. Instead, he asks questions around ideas of aspiration, literal dreaming, and failed chances. While it does provide some cohesion amidst a style of comedy that lends itself to a more scattered approach, it also restricts him, at times making it seem more like a live poll or Q&A session than a comedy show.
This format quickly reaches an impasse. One of the pitfalls of crowd work is that it relies on stereotypes, with comedians forced to make snap judgments based on limited interactions. This is a trap Rife falls into at the start as he compares one of the only Black men in the audience to Cam Newton, and makes another joke about another man’s queerness.
It is an edgy opening that is in-keeping with the domestic violence joke that opened his previous special. These shallow jibes improve as Rife spends longer talking to participants, asking questions that evoke (occasionally) thoughtful responses and more intelligent humor from its host.
But the low-hanging fruit continues with jokes about how, if he were a pilot, he would have “missed both those towers” because of his poor eyesight and how he was “autistic for like four and a half years” after he became obsessed with the military. These segments are, in fact, not crowd work. They are anecdotes that he tells at opportune moments throughout. While it detracts from the show’s entire concept, it serves as a kind of palette cleanser, warming his audience to him. A lot of these anecdotes are self-deprecating, showing a more vulnerable side to the arrogant hyper-masculine persona Rife usually embodies.
As it progresses, the special turns into a character study with the defining message that people believe themselves to be more interesting than they are in reality. The show opens the floor to these egotists, not allowing for the actually interesting anecdotes to shine through. To counter these stories, Rife adopts a range of roles throughout the special: interpreter of dreams, careers counselor, and relationship therapist when he encourages a woman in the audience to stop applying her bad experiences in previous relationships to her current partner.
Rife is clearly charismatic, curious and empathetic, all traits that lend themselves to good comedy. It’s a far cry from his last special as he appears more at ease, settling into his own unique style. He has learned to use facial expressions and dramatic gestures, like when he looks forlorn at the thought of having a seven-inch penis. Still though, there is an uncanny quality that doesn’t quite hit the mark as he can’t resist the underlying frat boy humor told through mocking a man’s weight, or the implicitly dumb strippers that he refuses to tip.
Most importantly though, Rife ends on a moment of gratitude. It is a welcome shift from the man who, less than a year ago, refused to apologize for blatantly offensive jokes. Here, he is grateful and humble and even self-effacing. He makes jokes at his own expense, including a text-overlay that says, “Matt went backstage and took out his teeth and obviously fake jawline.” Clearly being chronically online and a social media sensation pays off because nobody knows Matt Rife critics like Matt Rife himself, and it’s a welcome change to see him using this criticism to fuel his material.
His comedy isn’t flawless. He is still reliant on a lot of the low blows that have helped him become viral on TikTok. He uses stereotypes and mockery, but this time he seems less afraid to mock himself too, to be vulnerable in front of an audience whose vulnerability he is using.
The crowd work, and the whole “dream” concept, become tired by the show’s end, and Rife is still obviously struggling to work out his exact niche. He flits between the “edgy” jokes that made up so much of his previous special and the quick wit that actually makes him stand out. This is the comedy that he should embrace as he grows in his career, and yet he displays these talents far too infrequently.
To say it is a vast improvement from his last special seems less complimentary when the bar was set so low, but ultimately, it is Rife’s surprising curiosity and empathy that makes his latest special worth watching.
