To paraphrase TS Eliot: and was it worth it after all? A question to ponder for those who have taken the coin of a government once described unequivocally as “the worst of the worst” by one human rights advocacy organisation.
The past decade has seen Saudi Arabia invest in everything from football to opera to video games – all part of the regime’s efforts to diversify its oil-dependent economy and its execution-heavy reputation.
Mohammed bin Salman’s (MBS) latest interest? Comedy. The Riyadh comedy festival, which ends today, has attracted a number of big hitters. Among them: Pete Davidson, Louis CK, Dave Chappelle, Kevin Hart, Aziz Ansari, Whitney Cummings and Jessica Kirson. While most of the performers are US based, Jimmy Carr, Jack Whitehall and Omid Djalili also appeared as headliners.
Organised by Saudi Arabia’s General Entertainment Authority (GEA), the festival was intended to “amplify Riyadh’s status as a leading destination for major cultural and artistic events”. Or, as Visit Saudi didn’t put it: come for the weather and the entertainment! Stay because you’ve been arrested!
The organiser of the festival and chair of the GEA, Turki Al-Sheikh, is a big fan of culture. Indeed, he reposted a song on X that celebrated the lead suspect in Jamal Khashoggi’s murder.
It’s interesting that MBS has discovered a sense of humour, though, as the crown prince wasn’t laughing when Masameer County, a South Park meets Family Guy-style satire, was picked up by Netflix and became one of the most popular shows in the region. Instead, its creator, Abdulaziz Almuzaini, was sentenced to a 13-year jail term and a 30-year travel ban for “terrorism and promoting homosexuality”.
Others who have left MBS stony-faced? Fahad Albutairi, known as “Saudi Arabia’s Jerry Seinfeld”, who was allegedly handcuffed, blindfolded and put on a plane to Saudi Arabia when performing in Jordan in 2018. (He was also reported to have been forced to divorce his wife, a women’s rights activist.)
Abdulrahman al-Sadhan was jailed for 20 years for running a parody Twitter account. Tala Safwan, an Egyptian TikTok influencer and prankster was arrested for a joke with “lesbian subtext”. And in 2018 a specific law was introduced to punish, with jail sentences and fines, anybody who produced satire online deemed to be “mocking public order”.
You might think, then, that comedians most vehement in their protestations against cancel culture – Chappelle, Ansari, CK, in particular – would balk at performing in a country whose predilection for silencing extends to (alleged) murder by bone-saw.
Pete Davidson has said that there were no restrictions on the material he could perform, a dubious claim given that Atsuko Okatsuka leaked a prospective contract she was sent. The “content restrictions” section detailed anything that “may be considered to degrade, defame, or bring into public disrepute, contempt, scandal, embarrassment, or ridicule … the Kingdom of Saudi, the Saudi royal family, its legal system … religion”. (Okatsuka declined the offer.)
Another reason: Tim Dillon had his invite rescinded after making a quip about slavery in the kingdom, as did Jim Jefferies after he said: “One reporter was killed by the government … unfortunate, but not a fucking hill that I’m gonna die on.” Outing himself as an absolutely awful person and then not even getting the cash? Unfortunate. Oh, and then there’s the fact that Bill Burr, who did perform, confirmed there was censorship. But “the royals loved the show”, he said – so that’s nice.
Perhaps the likes of Chappelle, Ansari and CK felt there was less at stake because, by their own estimation, they have already suffered cancellation. Except that their exile from public life appears to include fresh Netflix specials and Grammy awards. Louis CK should count himself lucky; if he’d been caught with his dick in his hand in Najd, rather than Colorado, he may well have retained neither of those appendages (punitive limb amputation is an actual thing).
CK’s stance on murderous dictatorships seems to have changed since this full-throated criticism of Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi. But fair play to him in one sense for getting out of his comfort zone – he has a whole bit about giving up weed and yet here he is visiting a place where getting stoned is common. CK has defended himself thus: “I struggled about going once I heard what everybody was saying.” Truly, a man of integrity.
Another performer who has seemingly discovered their conscience after the fact is Jessica Kirson, a lesbian Jewish comic. Kirson has tied herself in knots worthy of a grovelling balloon-dog since. In a statement post-performance, Kirson asserted her “deep regret”, saying that she was “surprised” to be asked. Disingenuous to the extreme, given the fact she openly solicited an invitation on a podcast months ago.
Then there’s Hannibal Buress, widely praised for his significant role in taking down Bill Cosby; Buress is now taking money from a government that sentenced a 19-year-old victim of gang-rape to 200 lashes and six months in prison. Meanwhile, I remember Jack Whitehall doing a skit about “grown adults getting wound up about cartoons”. Presumably he doesn’t mind the grown adults who got so wound up by cartoons that they sentenced satirist Al Hazzaa to 23 years’ jail time for lighthearted illustrations about fasting.
Of course, the primary – and here consider primary as a euphemism for only – reason for entertainers becoming sharply severed from their morals is the riyals. On the state’s Soundstorm festival bill for this December, for instance: Post Malone, Halsey and Tyla. Actors who have taken million-dollar paychecks to attend the Red Sea film festival include Will Smith and Johnny Depp.
At least some comedians were honest about the money grab, rather than Kirson, who called the festival “a gay-affirming event”, a stretch when its sponsors have beheaded people for same-sex activity. Davidson was more straightforward: “I see the number and go: ‘I’ll go’”. (The SNL alumnus has come in for particular criticism given that his firefighter father died during 9/11). Chris Distefano said that he didn’t want to do it, but that his fiancee had instructed him to “take that fucking money”.
A more nuanced take came from Nimesh Patel, who initially said yes before backing out. “They offered a lot of money. I’m not in a position to say no to life-changing money. But it wasn’t life-changing.” Which, given the people involved, and as David Cross said in a fiery rebuke, will be true of all of them. The actor called out peers he admired who “would condone this totalitarian fiefdom for … what, a fourth house? A boat? More sneakers?” I suppose Davidson is on record as loving sneakers.
Of course, some will argue that performing in authoritarian or oppressive countries is a means of reaching the masses; opening up art to those underserved. And while that may be true on occasion, it is a different thing entirely from being sponsored by the state itself to launder its sovereignty. As Vinny Thomas sarcastically put it: “Sometimes to fight the power you have to be paid by the power.”
Others argue that cultural boycotts and campaigns make little difference, even when South Africa, BDS, and more recently, Nan Goldin’s dismantling of the Sackler family’s art patronage have proven otherwise. Plenty of comedians joined Cross in condemnation, including Nish Kumar, Marc Maron and Zach Woods. In typically forthright style, Stewart Lee described participants as “evil, amoral, grifting bastards”.
And Shane Gillis, Leslie Liao, Stavros Halkias and Mike Birbiglia turned down offers alongside Okatsuka. The stain on the reputations of the comedians who stood up for Saudi’s project whitewash? A deep, blood red.
