When some of the biggest names in global stand-up descended on Riyadh for the inaugural Riyadh Comedy Festival, it was billed as a historic gathering of international talent. But the spotlight has quickly shifted from punchlines to politics.
The state-backed festival, which began on 26 September and runs through 9 October, features more than 50 high-profile comics, among them Dave Chappelle, Kevin Hart, Louis C.K., Bill Burr, Jimmy Carr, and Jack Whitehall. But while the lineup is heavyweight, critics say the event itself is a tool for image laundering by a regime accused of grave human rights violations.
Human Rights Watch has accused Saudi authorities of “deflecting attention from its brutal repression of free speech and other pervasive human rights violations.” Activists have labelled the event “comedy washing”, a cultural cousin of “sports washing”, pointing to the country’s record on executions, women’s rights, and its crackdown on dissent.
The controversy is intensified by who is involved. Many of the comedians taking the stage have built their reputations on speaking truth to power. To critics, their decision to accept massive paydays while performing under restrictive contracts amounts to hypocrisy.
David Cross expressed his disgust on Instagram: “There’s not enough money for me to help these depraved, awful people put a ‘funny face’ on their crimes against humanity,” he wrote, adding that those who’ve complained about cancel culture “don’t get to talk about it ever again.”
Marc Maron publicly condemned the event during a show, referencing the murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi on the seventh anniversary of his death, an assassination Mohammed bin Salman has denied ordering.
The criticism sharpened when comedian Atsuko Okatsuka shared what appeared to be parts of an invite contract banning artists from performing material that “may be considered to degrade, defame, or bring into public disrepute” the Saudi government, royal family, or religion. She remarked pointedly, “A lot of the ‘you can’t say anything anymore!’ comedians are doing the festival.”
Financial incentives appear to be staggering. US comic Tim Dillon claimed he accepted $375,000 for a single performance, admitting: “They’re paying me enough money to look the other way.” He later said the show was cancelled after he made remarks critical of Saudi human rights abuses. Others, like Shane Gillis, rejected offers outright, citing principle.
Reactions from performers have been mixed. Louis C.K. said he had “mixed feelings” but noted he was told he couldn’t joke about “their religion and their government,” which he claimed wasn’t part of his act anyway. Bill Burr called the experience “mind-blowing” and said it could “lead to a lot of positive things.” Jessica Kirson expressed “sincere regret” afterward, stating she agreed to perform openly as a lesbian onstage to show solidarity with LGBTQ+ people in the country, and pledged to donate her fee.
As the kingdom attempts to reshape its global image ahead of hosting 2034 FIFA World Cup, the festival has exposed a deep fault line in the comedy world between moral stand and financial gain.
