Thanks to Just for Laughs I have seen more than a lifetime’s worth of great stand-up, exotic dance, puppet theater, performing troupes, political commentators, and raunchy comics.
None of which could have prepared me for the wizardry of Trevor Noah who headlined JFL42 at the Sony Centre this past weekend.
Admittedly I knew nothing of Noah except for this:
- He is South African.
- He is Jon Stewart’s replacement on The Daily Show.
- He is the same shade as me.
What I learned on Saturday was this:
- He could be the funniest man alive.
- He could be more popular than Stewart.
- He could be a global voice for change.
Over the next few days, Noah will go from relatively unknown in North America to star of one of the best late night shows around (so I’m told). But his background, talent, and conviction are going to amplify his impact to much farther than the boundaries of a flatscreen television.
Let’s begin with his background. Noah was born as a mixed race child in a South Africa that still deemed it illegal for whites to procreate with blacks. Raised by his black mother, he faced all the atrocities you can imagine of being poor and abused in an apartheid ruled township. His mother was jailed for birthing Noah. She later was shot twice by her ex-husband (not Noah’s father) and saved from death only by the jamming of his gun. Her ex received a measly three years of “corrective supervision” and later threatened to kill Noah.
Noah was a superstar in Africa. He is an immensely smart man who speaks six languages and his intellectual gifts allowed him to attend private school as a child. As a comic he has everything you could wish for. The dramatic outrage of a Richard Pryor. The multi-ethnic platform of a Russell Peters. The physical abilities of a Chris Rock. All wrapped up in a Louis CK type on-stage bravery.
But what thrilled me most about Noah was how he speaks his mind. To call him a comedian or a TV host would be demeaning. He is a man who has sensed the magnitude of the vehicles he has commandeered and he intends to use them. He rails against racism. He explains the illogic of the news media’s coverage of crimes. He admits his own prejudices. He calls upon the audience to not judge. He literally shouts out for a world where we perhaps can all get along.
I had this odd feeling watching him that this man, who has literally been thrust into my imagination overnight, will someday become the second most infamous South African to impact the world. He is just thirty-one years old. He is admittedly a willing workaholic. His motivation comes from a legacy of persecution. He seems, to me, unstoppable.