Review: Chris Rock still devoted to stand-up

Chris Rock ***
The Playhouse

YOU have to wonder why Chris Rock bothers with stand-up comedy. A poor man's Eddie Murphy he may be; nevertheless, it seems strange why a pampered, multi-millionaire Hollywood movie star would return to live performance when acting would seem a safer, more appropriate choice for someone at this stage of Rock's career. Maybe it's because unlike his chief influences (Murphy and Richard Pryor are not so much worn as stitched onto his tailor-made sleeve) Rock actually has something to say. On his No Apologies world tour, racism, he maintains, is all about context: when, why and how it is presented. Fair enough, but the fact is no-one really cares. We're here to have some laughs.

Shimmying on stage in a snappy-looking zoot suit, the gangly, fast-talking 43-year-old's dazzling white smile is almost blinding. He begins by announcing that hanging out in Edinburgh (Rock scores points for being one of few American entertainers to pronounce the Capital's name correctly) has given him a chance to "see what makes you all tick." In this case, watching darts on telly and drinking "a lot". The crowd roar approvingly before Scottish footballer, James McFadden, is referenced during a rant about the differences between men and women. It's about the limit of Rock's local examination.

A witty rejoinder about the currency exchange rate early on, however, cajoled a few genuine belly laughs from the audience ("I got off the plane with $3,000 and got a loaf of bread in return"), but for the most part Rock's material focuses on social commentary. There's the upcoming American presidential election, obviously ("Barack Obama has the blackest name ever – with a name like that you'd expect a guy holding a spear standing on top of a lion"); George Bush ("Weapons of mass destruction? He can't even find a super-soaker"); interracial dating ("Black guys would sooner dropkick Keira Knightley to get to Rosie O'Donnell"); and, of course, the neighbours ("A black dentist would have to invent teeth to get into my neighbourhood"). Rock's fractured relationship with America's racial fault line it seems is the bane of his existence, or his upbringing at least. The eldest of six, and raised in a strict home in a respectable part of Brooklyn, Rock's father was a truck driver who took on three jobs to support his family. The only black child in his class he was called a 'nigger' every day. It's a word Rock's repeated often since starting stand-up in 1985. "Can white people say nigger properly?" he asks "not really" comes the reply after exposing everyone (small, tall, skinny, fat, rich or poor)'s supposed hypocrisies. Funny? Sure. Thought-provoking? A little. Unfortunately we've heard it all before – only better.

He might have sprung from a working-class background, but when someone with Rock's wealth tries to make jokes about how we all have debt and bad credit, it's a little hard to take him seriously. To his credit, though, Rock is a charismatic performer. He may enjoy making movies, but as Rock himself once said "movies are not all mine – they're collaborative. Stand-up is all about you. Nothing compares to that experience." Perhaps that's why Chris Rock bothers.