STAND UP COMEDY

Rob Schneider’s First Netflix Special Is No More Than a Cringeworthy Cash Grab

Schneider got old and so did his jokes

As a kid, I adored Rob Schneider’s films. I was a bigger fan of his than I was of Adam Sandler’s. I know, I know, 10-year-old Akos didn’t have good taste in movies. I just admired Sandler’s jovial bunch: Chris Farley, Kevin James, David Spade, Chris Rock, and, of course, Rob Schneider.

For a kid, humor is bond, connection, and happiness. People often lose these when they become adults.

At one point in my childhood, I had posters covering my bedroom walls from top to bottom. My godmother worked in a VHS rental store, so I had privileges. Most of them were Adam Sandler and Rob Schneider film posters (with the exception of Wesley Snipes’ Blade, which I felt particularly proud of.)

Sandler and Schneider go way back. They are old buddies, showing up in each other’s features was kind of an expectation. Big Daddy, Little Nicky, Big Stan, 50 First Dates, The Longest Yard, you name it and I’ve seen it. A half dozen times, at least.

When I saw that Schneider returns to the stage to come up with a new stand up special, I was hopeful. His new show, ‘Asian Momma, Mexican Kids’, became available yesterday on Netflix, and I watched it right away. I’ve never seen him performing comedy before, so I was curious. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him in anything in the last 15 years. It was for the better, probably.

I’m not sure how he convinced Netflix to record his 45 minutes routine because it’s boring, inconsistent, and ad hoc. It’s a cash grab. He talks about his sex life with his third wife, tells anecdotes of his kids, and explains why he doesn’t want to get f*cked up anymore. He’s in his fifties, and he’s part of the sad and angry boomer generation.

“Schneider seems barely interested in his own set enough for anyone else to find it interesting.” — Pathikrit Sanyal, Meaww

The whole set feels like an unwanted conversation with a once funny comedian who had become average and tedious. At halfway in, he introduces a pianist to play some melodic songs, which has absolutely no purpose to add to his act. It’s inexplicable.

He tells outdated and repetitive jokes about immigrants, and for some reason that’s beyond me, the audience laughs at them. It becomes tiresome and painful to watch him operate on a level that’s below him. Maybe my nostalgic expectations prevented me to enjoy his babbling, but I felt sorrowful to see the buffoon of my childhood act so poorly.

As a closure to his routine, Schneider’s daughter (Elle King) shows up to sing a duet with him that seems completely out of place. There is no sentiment, wit, or meaning to see the two perform together. The whole set is a question mark, a riddle that I’m unable to decode for what it’s really wanted to be.

I’d rather remember his idiotic roles accompanied by the sweet nostalgia of my childhood, because this special, no matter how bad I wanted it to be good, seems nothing else than a cash grab. Rob Schneider, in my memory at least, was a lot funnier than this embarrassment.

If you have the same beloved recollections of him, do yourself a favor and keep them sacred without watching his first Netflix special.