Review: “Kill Tony” (on Netflix)

 

 

MY REVIEW: “KILL TONY”
(PSSST….DON’T GIVE ME ANY IDEAS)

I just endured the cruel misfortune of watching the opening to a new Netflix special. Ten minutes was as much as I could stomach.

Kill Tony: Mayhem at Madison Square Garden is the name of this dreck purported to be a *comedy series* dredged entirely in shock humor punctuated with an unendurable strain of witless insults. Watching a brimming toilet overflow on Christmas morning would have been more amusing.

What’s “Kill Tony?” Hosted by self-avowed comedian Tony Hinchcliff, it’s billed as a live stand-up comedy revue and a revolving door of fresh new talent. But it actually comes across as a rotten plumb of egotistical Gen Zoomers exploding with raging testosterone, who hurl brutally unfunny insults at each other while simultaneously ambushing the predictable all-too-familiar targets of their fragile male-ego incel insecurities, morphing into a tireless cesspool of psychological misery camouflaged by flashing strobe lights and stage fireworks. Premature ejaculation for dummies.

Red Flag Alert! When there’s stage fireworks, the performers usually suck.

The fiasco was interspersed with ceaseless prattling repetition about how “great” everybody is, how “great” this night is, how “great” the city is, while boasting about “history being made tonight,” with the insufferable host blabbering ad nausea. You’ll read more about this — in detail — in a moment.

I was bored. So, to salvage something from the comedy train wreck and to amuse myself in search of a cheap thrill and nothing is cheaper than writing a rambling Facebook post, I took a few notes and came up with this “review.” Here it goes:

[Show Opens]

Announcer: “Give it up for Tony Hiiiiiiiiiiinchcliiiiiiiiiff! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……(screams).”

[“Star” of the show Hinchcliff walks onstage to accompaniment of strobe lights and fireworks]

Hinchcliff: “New York City!!!”
Hinchcliff: “Madison Square fucking Garden, the greatest arena in the world!!!”

[Oh, puhhleeeeze, you were playing at the Baltimore Civic Center last week, anything’s better than that —– this will be the first of nearly a dozen reminders that tonight’s show is being broadcast from Madison Square Garden, in New York City]

Hinchcliff: “Who’s ready for the best fucking night of their lives???”

[What? This is the “best fucking night of my life?” Suddenly, I feel compelled to search for a razor blade]

Hinchcliff: “Yippeeeee! Make some noise, everybody!!!”

[Hey, how about making some COMEDY first, THEN we’ll make noise. The audience paid YOU you to entertain THEM. Audiences aren’t your backing sound-audio special effects for your Netflix special]

Hinchcliff: “New York, how the fuck are we feeling tonight???”

[Uhmm didn’t we hear this before? Thats *New York Reference #2* and, we’re 45 seconds into the show]

Hinchcliff: “Oh my god, this is it!!!”

[This is what?]

Hinchcliff: “This is it — the Mecca. The greatest arena in the world!!!”

(What’s this–a marketing promo for Madison Square Garden? That’s *MSG Reference #2*]

Hinchcliff: “This is the first podcast ever at Madison Square Garden!!!”

[Ding, ding, ding! That’s *MSG Reference #3*. Oh, and does anyone care about a “first podcast?” It’s not exactly up there with Neil Armstrong’s moon walk]

Hinchcliff: “This is the first time in an arena for Netflix, everybody!!!”

[*MSG Reference #4* I guess we’re supposed to pop the fucking champagne in the office break room]

Hinchcliff: “You are here watching history happen!!!”

[No, I’m watching a schlub fill dead air with lame shit]

Hinchcliff: “We have an amazing show for you!” And, I’m just gonna jump right into it!”

<<<glances at wristwatch/checks/battery still working>>>

[Great! Any day now. We’re all waiting!]

Hinchcliff: “I’m going to bring out the first guest, one the biggest and best in the world!!!”

[Wonderful! One of the “biggest and best in the world?” How exciting! Who is it — Dave Chappelle, Bill Burr, Zach Galifianakis, Louis C.K., Nikki Glaser, Sarah Silverman…. surely, it’s a big name coming, right?]

Hinchcliff: “His new special is playing on Netflix.”

[Another shameless Netflix buttplug; just bring out the superstar, already!]

Hinchcliff: “He’s the youngest comedian ever to sell out Madison Square garden–and he did it two times!”

[*MSG Reference #5……this isn’t a Guinness Book of World Records category I really care about, but please do go on]

Hinchcliff: “He’s truly one of the best in the world!!!”

[We heard this….gee, this guy must be huuuuuuge!]

Hinchcliff: “Make some fucking noise for………….MATT RIFE, ladies and gentlemen. Matt Rife! Here we go!!!”

[Huh? Run that by me again? Matt…….umm, who?]

Hinchcliff: “Get on your fucking feet!!!”

[Now, we’re supposed to stand? Is that mandatory as part of the ticket price?]

Hinchcliff: “One of the greatest rippers in the world. He’s one of the greatest comedians in the world!”

<<< Hinchcliff is still pimping the first guest, even though he’s already taken the stage >>>

Hinchcliff: “A fucking stud! Matt Rife!!!”

<<<more fireworks>>>

<<< By his looks, a 22-year-old old who looks like the guy wearing an apron holding the smart tablet taking orders outside at the fast food drive thru appears but doesn’t say a word. He sits at a long draped table that looks like an AM radio remote set up at the local shopping mall…..we still haven’t heard from this “greatest comedian in the world”]

Hinchcliff: “Our next guest…..

[Wait — what the hell happened to the first guest? That’s it? Prick teaser!]

Hinchcliff: ……is one of the kings of New York!”

[Wow, a “king of New York?” This could go lots of different ways in directions I don’t even want to think about]

Hinchcliff: “Make some noise for the great MARK NORMAND, everybody!!!”

[Mark….who? Never heard of this “king of New York.”]

Hinchcliff: “We’re going joke heavy in this episode, everybody!”

[Joke heavy? This is worse than non-alc. beer. When do the jokes begin, Tony? We’re already 3 minutes in–no laughs yet]

Hinchcliff: “We’re not dusting off old comedy mummies tonight, we got the fucking jokesters right here!”

[Comedy mummies? A tasteless jab at older comedians who spent years crafting their techniques, working nightclubs, doing TV specials, breaking down old barriers and restrictions, and actually MAKING PEOPLE FUCKING LAUGH FOR DECADES. You know, “mummies.” Hinchcliff assures us, “the jokesters are right here!”]

Hinchcliff: “Rapid fire! One more time for MATT RIFE and MARK NORMAND, ladies and gentlemen!”

[What? We have to seal clap and cheer AGAIN? Do we get union scale for this work as extras?]

Hinchcliff: “We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

[Great, so start the fun, Tony. We’ve been ready, Tony. Let the fun begin, Tony. Whenever you get around to it, Tony]

Hinchcliff: “We have a special treat, some of you may know — how many of you were here at MSG last year?

[What is this–a Gallop poll? That’s *MSG Reference #6* or is it #7? I lost count. Do we really care who was here last year? And, you suckers decided to buy another ticket!!!]

<<< Next, we learn about the “rules” of ‘Kill Tony,’ which are basically non-existent. Something about a bucket and timers and kittens and bears. This tutorial goes on for a dreadfully long period >>>
Hinchcliff: “So, Mark Normand, how you feelin’? It’s your city—-New York City, You’re at Madison Square Garden!”

[FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK. Okay, thats *New York Reference #5* and *MSG Reference #7 or #8* Yeah, we got this down already, Tony. We’re at MSG and this is NYC. We got it If anyone doesn’t know Madison Square Garden isn’t geographically positioned within the city limits of New York, well, they’ll never forget that trivia fact after tonight]

<<< Crowd inexplicably cheers. For what, I don’t know. High? Drunk? Stupid? Insert 3 Bingo! calls.>>>

Hinchcliff: “Were ready to start this fucking show!!!”

[SO. START. THE. FUCKING. SHOW.]

<<< I’m way passed this point of seeing if the show improves. We’re in morbid curiosity territory, now….like watching a blowout ballgame with your team down by 6 scores but you can’t shut if off because it’s imperative to see how badly this turns out >>>

Hinchcliff: “Lets just jump right into it!!!”

[SO. JUST. FUCKING. JUMP. RIGHT. INTO. IT. ALREADY.]

<<< More explanation of the “rules.” This is becoming the boarding announcements for an Allegiant Airlines flight. >>>

<<< Interruption: Muscular thug dude with O/U 82 IQ struts onstage posturing, waving arms, preening for cameras (crowd roars) >>>

Hinchcliff: “Look everybody! It’s NATE DIAZ, master of the Stockton Slap.

[Huh, who, what? Slap Stockton Diaz? Nate what? A quick Google search reveals he’s a UFC fighter. Part of the “rules” is for Diaz to look intimidating and let comedians know when it’s time to exit the stage!” Great job so far, Nate. Can you make them ALL exit the stage?]

Hinchcliff: “So lets fucking go! One more time for Nate Diaz!”

<<< Finally, the first comedian/contestant is announced >>>

Hinchcliff: “Why don’t we bring out a Hall of Famer to do a minute…..this is DAVID LUCAS, everybody!”

[David Lucas is a Hall of Famer– what Hall of Fame would that be, exactly?]

<<< Heavy-set Black man comes onstage >>>

<<< More fireworks!!! >>>

Comedian Lucas: “Yeah…….(8 second pause)

[Remember, the rules say he has only ONE MINUTE….12 percent of his time allotment is already expired. Oh, and I copied everything verbatim from the closed captions here]

<<< Over the next 48 agonizing seconds, Lucas launches into a short rant: “So, here’s why Black people don’t like gay people. Here’s why Black people don’t like trans people. And the reason why Black people don’t like trans people is because Black people hate magic. You ever seen someone do a magic act on a nigga’? They don’t get it. They take off running. They take off running. We call it Black Magic.” (a few more nigga’ and motherfucka’ references, audience stirs–short monologue mercifully ends with a bear growl) >>>

Hinchliff: “That was hilarious!:

[No, it wasn’t!]

<<< Next, Lucas, Hinchcliff, and the panel babble back and forth with gay jokes, lesbian jokes, exemplified by this: “Y’all niggas’ are comin’ after me tonight! Bitch! Fuck you! Fuck you, Matt Rife. You look like a love child from Ellen Degeneres. We call you Ellen the Genderless, nigga’.” (audience roars)

<<< More nigga’ this and motherfucka’ that. More gay slurs. Panel laughs hysterically. >>>

Comedian Lucas: “Mark Normand — fuck you, bitch!”

Hinchfliff: “David is on fire!!!!!”

Umm, that’s the fireworks, Tony]

<<< We’re reminded (again) that Lucas has his own Netflix comedy show coming soon. Oh joy! I CAN wait! That’s shameless ass-kissing *Netflix Reference #5*]

Hinchcliff: “We need some serious help up here!”

[You’re telling me! Might I suggest a pair of noise-canceling headphones, a tub of vaseline, and a giant circular green can of Comet?]

<<< Full stop! Here’s where I changed the channel. >>>

Now, for decompression and recovery.

I wasn’t so much offended by any of this, tastelessly dull as it was. I was bored. Really–this is comedy? Where’s the nuance? Where’s the cleverness? Where’s the intellect? Where’s the social point and stinging commentary? Where’s the anything–other than blathering racially-charged vulgarities and put-downs? To be clear, almost NOTHING offends me. There’s a rightful place for raunchy, insult comedy. Moreover, I do enjoy laughing with a great dirty comic.

Trouble is, when these edgy attempts at humor fail, they fall hard and go flat. An unwritten rule: the raunchier and more over-the-line risque the comedy is, the *better* the content must be. Masters of this genre have included Sam Kinison (RIP) in the past…….to Sarah Silverman, Nikki Glaser, Dave Chappelle, Jeffrey Ross (aka the “Roastmaster General”) in the present, along with many others. Sure, edgy comics who use insults and race and targeted cruelty occasionally misfire but more often — they are witty and smart and they often frame witty social commentary with humor, even when it’s objectionable material to some. There’s prime steak to go along with that hot sauce.

Finally, I had misgivings about writing a review and giving this any added publicity. Presumably, some might tune in just to see if it’s really *that bad*. I certainly wasn’t intending to go political. But now, I must.

When I shared a few thoughts about this show with a friend, he informed me that Hinchcliff (the star and host) appeared at a big Trump rally last year. I didn’t know this, but then I remembered some controversy about it. He’s the comedian that called Puerto Rico “a floating pile of garbage,” not exactly the ideal inspirational political message in what was supposed to be a close election while stroking the Hispanic vote. It’s a brand of pseudo-comedy that’s become alarmingly popular, and even intrusive, especially among White men.

What am I talking about? Demeaning, hyper-masculine, testosterone-overloaded, lots of punchdown humor speared directly at women, gays, trans people, immigrants, Blacks, Latinos — anyone not MALE and WHITE. All the soft targets of Trump’s America. All the demographics of tolerance and progress in a modern-day inclusive society. Maligned. Insulted. Ridiculed. Not just punch lines in a one-sided caged hunt, but the trophies of cruelty dressed as entertainment. It’s a grievance fest, a drunk hate rally of young, disenfranchised, angry white male frustration, masquerading as a “comedy” special. It’s resentment theater. Bitterness tinged with humor about change in society, so the “offenders” — yes all those terrible unpatriotic working women, gays, trans, minorities, liberals, ‘woksters’ — get propped up and pummeled as easy punchlines. It was about as funny as a visit to the bathroom stall at an illegal cockfight

Yes. Thats it. Then suddenly, it all fit. This was comedy with a social and political component, of sorts. They are — one and the same.