Summary
I’m hoping this triggers a long line of Netflix stand-ups for this comedian because Nate Jackson: Super Funny had me in tears for good reasons.
I’m ashamed to say that I know of Nate Jackson through TikTok, a platform that’s a hotbed for comedians to promote their best work, thanks to its short video format. And, like Matt Rife (more on him later), Mr. Jackson is known for his superb crowd work.
Nate Jackson: Super Funny, landing on Netflix as a special, came with some apprehension for me: can this comedian, known for his bold and boundary-pushing style, make me laugh for 60 minutes as he does in 5 minutes to my dopamine-depleted brain?
And that’s where Matt Rife returns to the conversation, a man beloved second for his jokes and first for his looks. I remember when Matt catapulted into various trends for his quick wit with the crowd and released his Netflix special. For some strange reason only known to Matt, he decided to prove to the audience that he was not a “crowd work” comedian and that he could subject himself to a 60-minute set of planned jokes. Presumably, he did this due to criticism he received on social media, a conflict he openly struggles with.
I hate to say it, but it didn’t work. I didn’t enjoy it, while his admirers claimed it was a great stand-up, presumably because they still want to bed him.
Unlike Matt Rife, Nate Jackson is unapologetically himself. He’s a crowd worker and a brilliant one at that. In Super Funny, he fearlessly engages with the audience, even comically preparing them for it. He doesn’t try to be someone he’s not, and that’s what makes his comedy so authentic.
If you are familiar with the comedian, then Super Funny will not surprise you. Nate pushes boundaries with his audience, but he tries to form an intimate connection through his work, peeling back the layers to understand his recipients’ personal lives while mimicking, mocking, and throwing in any discriminatory joke that fits. He doesn’t try to be someone he’s not.
And it’s not all “crowd work”. Nate proves a finer point by opening up with a set, easing the crowd in, before going to hell with his fans. His relatable opening (at least to me) talks about how he’s overweight and how much he loves food. I sat there, having already lost 40 pounds this year, and was almost convinced to indulge in a high-calorie delight as Nate described how he has always been suckered by the latest fad, like a new KFC burger (the McDonald’s Big Arch is still tempting me). At least he’s proud of it, as I certainly ain’t.
After Nate describes how he orgasms (yep), he uses his set to prepare the audience for his crowd work, which is a joke in itself as he delves into past miseries he’s had to endure when this has gone wildly wrong, dealing with “Karens” and one time when a person with paraplegia encouraged him to rip into him.
I’m not entirely comfortable with the whole “a comedian needs to get consent before engaging in a joke” mantra – it’s stand-up comedy, after all – but at least Nate makes the appeal funny.
From here, Nate Jackson solidifies Super Funny into one of Netflix’s best comedy specials. He riles the crowd effortlessly, and his timing, impressions, and general awareness of the room and back-and-forth are always spot on. There’s no real theme as such, it’s simply as the title suggests – it’s funny.
I’m hoping this triggers a long line of Netflix stand-ups for this comedian because Nate Jackson: Super Funny had me in tears for good reasons.
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