{"id":36549,"date":"2022-06-04T15:48:27","date_gmt":"2022-06-04T15:48:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/harchi90.com\/norm-macdonald-has-one-last-laugh-in-nothing-special\/"},"modified":"2022-06-04T15:48:27","modified_gmt":"2022-06-04T15:48:27","slug":"norm-macdonald-has-one-last-laugh-in-nothing-special","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/harchi90.com\/norm-macdonald-has-one-last-laugh-in-nothing-special\/","title":{"rendered":"Norm Macdonald Has One Last Laugh In ‘Nothing Special’"},"content":{"rendered":"
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During the summer of 2020, when most of the world was shut down over Covid-19, Norm Macdonald was scheduled to undergo a procedure related to the leukemia that would ultimately kill him. The comedian \u201cdidn’t want to leave anything on the table in case things went south,\u201d so he shot a special in his house di lui, seated, with no audience. The result is brutal, brilliant, and hilarious. <\/p>\n

The original intention was to re-film the set with an audience once the world opened back up, but the comedian never got that chance. Instead, we’re treated to a unique performance from a dying man, dispensing wisdom through jokes. The performance takes place at the bottom of a stairwell in his house by him. A yappy dog \u200b\u200bheckles him briefly at one point and causes him to restart the joke he was telling; his cell phone rings at another. <\/p>\n

He meanders around, pretending to have forgotten the point he was trying to make. The color yellow appears repeatedly. He leans into his trademark misprunciation of words. He even offers eye contact and nods to the nonexistent crowd. <\/p>\n

But he’s not just telling jokes, he’s trying to do his part to heal a broken world, knowing it’s likely his last time to do so. He’s using humor to remind us of our own humanity, to bring people together, which he was especially visionary considering the fear of each other that was so prevalent when he filmed it. <\/p>\n

Macdonald is also offering his goodbyes. In the closing portion, he expresses his limitless love for his selfless mother di lei and celebrates her sacrifices di lei. I’ll avoid spoilers, but Macdonald’s love di lei for her is evident. Leaving nothing on the table, he finishes his last show di lei ever discussing her, closing out his career di lei with a tribute to her, almost coming to tears at one point, although it ends with a crude joke. <\/p>\n

Macdonald, who hid his illness, was obviously dealing with his own mortality during the performance, but he was also doing something more. He was playing the part of a philosopher. <\/p>\n

As he jokes at one point in \u201cNothing Special,\u201d \u201cI hear people say, ‘The comedian is the modern-day philosopher.’ First of all, it makes me feel sad for the actual modern-day philosophers, who exist, you know. They’re working, trying to come up with their philosophy, you know, and they go, did you hear this? The nightclub comic is doing great work on totaligism. ” <\/p>\n

While he wasn’t elucidating upon totaligism, or any other fake -isms, the special does, as Matt Mehan wrote on Twitter<\/a>, offer a brutal indictment of “modern ideological immorality.” Mehan, director of academic programs and professor of government at Hillsdale’s DC campus, also offered me this comment: “He is reaching out to a fallen people, with a humor designed to free them from their worst habits and opinions, under the guise of admittedly raw stand up. “<\/p>\n

And it is crude. The language is salty, and many of the jokes are dirty. During the process, though, Norm hints at the cruelty of aborting children with Down syndrome, pointing out that their only crime is being extremely happy. He discusses the problems surrounding living wills and euthanasia.<\/p>\n

Norm wasn’t afraid to openly profess his Christianity. That faith, which obviously influenced the entire set and much of his comedy by him in general, opens people to his message by him. Norm spoke the truth in love. <\/p>\n

Not that the lack of a live audience, with potential converts sitting in the chairs, changes his style. Just as he did on stage, in \u201cNothing Special,\u201d he refuses to flinch. As Anthony Jeselnik said when asked what he learned from Macdonald, \u201cBelieve in your joke. And if the audience doesn’t get it, you still need to believe in it\u2026 You don’t want to be a crowd-pleaser. You want to be a great comedian. ” <\/p>\n

In the reaction to the special from David Letterman, Dave Chappelle, Molly Shannon, Conan O’Brien, Adam Sandler, and David Spade, a story came up in which Macdonald told a group of comedians he was the best amongst them. None of those present could argue with that assessment. <\/p>\n

When Macdonald passed away, the world lost a great comedian. Were he looking over my shoulder right now, he might even instruct me to call him the greatest. Given that one of his last acts di lui was to leave a brilliant gift for us to enjoy now that he’s gone, I wouldn’t disagree. For while all comedy has the potential to be transformative, Norm’s vision of lui was to transform us in ways that allow us to become better, more connected, more faithful people. <\/p>\n

He invited us to believe, even if popular sentiment wasn’t on his side. With \u201cNothing Special,\u201d he still invites us to do so. Norm wants us to have faith, to believe in God, in ourselves, in us, in the goodness all people have the power to try to capture, even as we mostly fail. May we all be so unflinching, regardless of how the audience responds. <\/p>\n

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Richard Cromwell is a writer and senior contributor at The Federalist. He lives in Northwest Arkansas with his wife, three daughters, and two crazy dogs. Co-host of the podcast Coffee & Cochon, you can find him on Facebook and Twitter<\/a>though you should probably avoid using social media.<\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n