In his new Netflix special, Man of the People, comedian Tony Hinchcliffe kicks it off on an Arizona stage by yelling, “What the fuck is up?” His audience of adoring fans ate it up, unaware of the hackery that would follow. But the verdict’s now in. Critics and viewers alike agree that the show was garbage. Joe Rogan had Hinchcliffe on his podcast for three hours and barely mentioned the special. Other high-profile comics—Shane Gillis, Tom Segura, Bert Kreischer, Andrew Schulz and Theo Vaughn—have also remained silent. Everyone knows what that means.
Hinchcliffe’s stage bravado was out of place that evening, given his lackluster, vanity-projecting performance. He thought he looked great in his too-tight black shirt, matching tight, designer pants and big, bold Texas belt buckle. Hinchcliffe’s first “joke” was about getting his first gun, now that he's followed his comic daddy, Joe Rogan, to Austin, Texas: “It's like having a second dick. I know, because the first thing I did when I got it home was to put it in my mouth.” Some laughed, out of discomfort I presume.
Hinchcliffe then uses this premise as a segue into addressing the constant, “false” insinuations that he's gay. His speech pattern is gay, and some of his mannerisms and style choices signal gay, but the comic’s response is: “If any guy thinks I'm gay, guess what? You're gay.” He then challenges any guy who thinks he's straighter than he is to a “suck off”: “We 69. One suck for you, one suck for me. Let's find out who’s gay, because I bet you come first, faggot. And while my soft penis bounces around in your try-hard mouth, you will think ‘He was right’”
Who comes to a comedy show and wants to hear this? That bizarre, detailed fantasy sure sounds gay for a guy who's trying to convince his audience he's not gay. The bit bombed. It's accumulated anger with no comic element. The audience was confused and uncomfortable. Why Netflix didn't edit that stinker out—a common practice—is beyond me. But I'm glad that didn't happen, because now Hinchcliffe is stuck with it.
The top comics keep “crowd work” out of their specials. Hacks like Hinchcliffe use crowd work because they don't have enough material for the standard 60-minute show. Still, crowd work can be funny in the right hands—e.g. Jimmy Carr—but not in Hinchcliffe’s. He called a sweet woman in the front row a “big tittied monster,” referring to her breasts as “fucking Arizona shakers.” Identifying a Mexican-American father/son duo in the front row, he found out that the dad was in the swimming pool business, but still called him a “landscaper.” Then, for no reason, he asked the son if they’d ever tag-teamed the same girl: “Would you ever fuck a girl with your dad?” Where's the joke?
Hinchcliffe’s entire schtick has become pointing out racial stereotypes as if that was funny without some added wit. He told the crowd that black guys don't like eggs because “even in the chicken world they don't want to be around their children.” The comic showed how depraved he's become by telling the unfunny, sadistic story of how his “head housekeeper” had approached him on his 2000-square foot terrace, asking for help with her niece, who ICE had picked up. Hinchcliffe’s reply: “And I looked her right in the eyes and I go, Juanita, the guest bedroom bathroom toilet is clogged. And if it's not fixed by the time you leave, I will reunite you with your niece.”
This isn’t humor. It's just cruelty mixed with Hinchcliffe bragging about how much money he has. And what makes the comedian even more detestable is the smiling smugness with which he delivers the laugh-less "punchline."
In a moral sense, it’d be difficult for a comedian to dip lower than this bit. Laughing at it is only for those lost, twisted souls who think it’d be funny for a well-off person to call ICE on an employee for not cleaning their toilet.
Hinchcliffe even takes on Canadians, who enraged him recently when they booed the national anthem at a hockey game. Playing the MAGA card, he said they should stop disrespecting the song and learn it. Then, he launched into a lengthy lecture on Canada's state-run euthanasia program. There's plenty of comic potential here, but Hinchcliffe’s too lazy to attempt a joke.
Hinchcliffe limps to the finish line with a handful of clichéd Jew jokes, continuing to look self-satisfied. There's not a single legitimate laugh in the entire show.
Tony Hinchcliffe is similar to his fellow comic Anthony Jeselnik in that they both project an aloof, superior persona. The difference is that Jeselnik’s razor-sharp punchlines hit hard, whereas Hinchcliffe’s sound like placeholders waiting for the real zinger to come along after the “workshopping” process has been completed in some small clubs where the audience reaction can be gauged.
At this point, Hinchcliffe’s a very successful live podcast host, but he's a failed stand-up comedian and a repugnant person. He's more mean than funny, and narcissistic too. These traits don't produce laughs. His comic delivery is sleepy-slow, and the bits he thinks make him fearless are boring.
The format of his Kill Tony show involves giving struggling young comics one minute of stage time to show off their comic chops. A talented few succeed, but most get derision from the show's panel. Right now, Hinchcliffe couldn't even pass muster on his own show.