I’ve been a fan of Trevor Noah since I first saw him Off-Broadway performing his first one-man show, Born a Crime, in the States.
That was before he got The Daily Show and became a more of a TV personality here. When I met and saw him, Noah was still trying to break into America. Now that he has broken through, the demands for content have grown stronger, haven’t they. So now he’s back with a new Netflix special, Son of Patricia, which I like a little less than his previous special, and a little less than the special before that.
I still am a fan of Noah. I’d just rather hear him in conversation, talking from the top of his head, than off of a script.
Sure, Noah has some strong and thoughtful opinions on how Americans process history and cultural experiences, whether at home or abroad.
But he delivers so much sweetness in his storytelling to get there, it almost feels as though the hard medicinal truths have been sugar-coated even more than what parents may traditionally use to trick their children or pets to take it all in.
Perhaps that’s what American audiences need in 2018 to realize the ridiculousness of “poverty porn” tourism, whether that’s traveling to Bali for an authentic experience, or even high-footing it to that exotic taco truck across town.