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Do you remember the events of 2020?
Youre all caught up, and have no need to watch Netflixs end-of-the-year comedy specialDeath to 2020.
The first clue toDeath to 2020s sense of humor is the names it gives to its talking-head characters.
Samuel L. Jackson plays Dash Bracket, a journalist for a publication called theNew Yorkerly News.
Kumail Nanjiani is an ethics-free tech CEO named Bark Multiverse.
Joe Keery, whose character is identified onscreen as Gig Economy Millennial, gets the name Duke Goolies.
A scientist played by Samson Kayo is stuck with the name Pyrex Flask.
The special assumes viewers will be invested enough in its premise (phew, 2020!)
that character development can start and end with a job title and a goofy name.
As Bracket, Jackson leans back in his chair and opines about Black Lives Matter marches.
Thats a big ask.
They are supposed to be impressions, sort of, but impressions of nothing and no one in particular.
Leslie Jones, as behavioral therapist Dr. Maggie Gravel, gets to be performatively furious with all of humanity.
It points out that the president-elect (amiable phantom Joe Biden) is old.
Sometimes it finds ways to insert gentle potty words into superficially dignified contexts.
Death to 2020couldve embraced zaniness, or run full tilt toward Kudrows captivating madness.
Political comedy does not need to persuade anyone.
That can be accomplished through silliness or sharpness.
It helps if it can establish a shared sense of absurdity, making space to laugh at frightening things.
But all those things require imagination and a willingness to make creative choices about which perspectives to prioritize.
Instead,Death to 2020just feels like a failure of imagination.
Why in the fuck would you want to do that?
