At the end of The Dreamer, Dave Chappelle’s newest Netflix stand-up special, my husband turned to me, exasperated, and sighed: “What is he even getting out of this?” “Twenty million dollars,” I responded matter-of-factly, but I knew what he meant. My partner’s concern was not financial gain but rewards of the spiritual kind. After a string of comedy specials mocking trans people, Chappelle drank from the well once more in a listless routine starved for fresh ideas or even remotely interesting ones. As a man who once represented comedy’s avant garde, who suggested bold new directions for where the art form could go, my husband was curious to know: Does Chappelle feel fulfilled by any of this? Is this how he thought he would use his enormous potential? How is he not utterly exhausted?

One of the most depressing aspects of Chappelle’s recent downward spiral is the sense that he’s capable of more. A favorite rejoinder of his supporters is that exercising his freedom of speech makes Chappelle’s comedy inherently valuable, but as someone who supports his constitutional right to say whatever he likes, I wish Chappelle would use it on more valuable exploits. Over its slim 57-minute runtime, The Dreamer elicits all the joy of a musician wearily finishing out his record contract, like Metal Machine Music but less pleasant to listen to. There’s simply nothing new here and very little that feels worthy of the comedian that Chappelle used to be. For those not excited by his umpteenth stab at trans-themed material, he is here to lure you back with dated punchlines about people with disabilities and the sinking of the Titanic, delivered with all the verve of a dial-up modem.

But sadly, one need not ask why Chappelle is even bothering because The Dreamer answers that very question. After a cold open comparing trans people to deranged method actors who always stay in character, he announces that he will no longer be telling anti-trans jokes.........

© The Daily Beast