Why Comedy Fans Are So Angry At The Riyadh Comedy Festival — And The Comedians Involved

The stand-up comedy community and its legion of fans are currently in upheaval over some of its most popular and respected talents' decision to perform at the Riyadh Comedy Festival in Saudi Arabia. Though the country is in the midst of an alleged, socially progressive shift via its Vision 2030 project (which also aims to make the Kingdom less reliant on oil production by building up its tech, sports, and entertainment industries), Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman Al Saad threw a spanner in the works seven years ago by allegedly ordering the brutal assassination of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi for the grave offense of having fiercely criticized the Crown Prince in print. Since then, more dissidents have been jailed and, on occasion, executed, while the country continues to engage in slavery under the kafala system.

According to Human Rights Watch, Saudi Arabia's treatment of its citizens is "abysmal." This hasn't stopped some of the top golfers in the world from joining the Kingdom's LIV Golf Tour or World Wrestling Entertainment, now a Netflix-streamed organization, from allowing the country to host WrestleMania 43 in 2027. The wealth is undeniable. Their ambition must be taken seriously. But can artists and athletes take their money in good conscience? It depends on who you're talking to, and, perhaps, how much they got paid.

The Riyadh Comedy Festival, which runs from September 26 to October 8, assembled a hugely impressive roster of world-famous comedic talent. If you threw an event like this in the United States, the combined likes of Dave Chappelle, Kevin Hart, Bill Burr, Aziz Ansari, Jim Jefferies, Hannibal Buress, Whitney Cummings, etc. could easily pack the Rose Bowl. Saudi Arabia understood this and, according to Time, offered comics anywhere between $300,000 and $1.6 million to do what was likely an hour-long set. Was it worth it?

Bill Burr, a straight-shooter comic who often resists the paranoid right-wing views espoused by his peers (he famously took Joe Rogan to task for his Covid vaccine skepticism), may be the most surprising participant in the festival. He's a surly, common sense humanist who enjoys dancing around third-rail issues. Burr's politics are all over the place, but, a decade ago, he was dead set against performing in the Middle East. "I'm not going over there and getting kidnapped and getting my head sawed off on f***ing YouTube," he said. So it's not surprising that, in defending his performance at the festival, he gently renounced his previous hostility toward the region.

Burr acknowledged that, as initially reported by Deadline, the Saudis placed certain restrictions on the comics' material (jokes about the royals and religion were verboten). But he was struck by how much he had in common with people from this very different culture. "I'm like, these guys, they're just like us," he said (via Variety). "I don't speak the language, but I get it." Burr added, "You think everybody's going to be screaming 'Death to America' and they're going to have like f***ing machetes and want to like chop my head off, right? Because this is what I've been fed about that part of the world." But when he realized that Saudi Arabia was full of American food chains like Pizza Hut, Chili's and Burger King, it hit him that he had more in common with the Saudi people than he previously thought.

If there's one comedian on the Riyadh bill who you think would've been reluctant to take part in this festival, it's Pete Davidson. His father, Scott Davidson, was a New York City firefighter who gave his life trying to rescue people during the attacks of 9/11 — attacks that have alleged connections to Saudi Arabia. How did Davidson square taking Saudi Arabian money in exchange for his comedic adequacy? While appearing on Theo Von's podcast, Davidson dodged the family issue and said this: "I just know I get the routing, and then I see the number, and I go, 'I'll go.'"

Some comics have been unstinting in their criticism of the festival and their peers' decision to perform. There is some remarkable anger out there.

Marc Maron, veteran comedian and host of the hugely popular "WTF" podcast, took to Instagram to say, "The same guy that's gonna pay them is the same guy that paid that guy to bone-saw Jamal Khashoggi and put him in a f***ing suitcase. But don't let that stop the yucks, it's gonna be a good time!" Maron wasn't offered a slot at the fest, but Shane Gillis was, revealing that he refused a "significant bag" (one that was doubled after he turned them down the first time) because he could not in good conscience perform for the Saudi royals. "I took a principled stand," he said. "You don't 9/11 your friends" (a reference to 15 of the 19 9/11 hijackers being Saudi citizens). 

And then there's David Cross. The "Arrested Development" star and co-creator of the classic HBO sketch comedy series "Mr. Show with Bob and David," took to his blog to excoriate his colleagues (some of whom are friends). Per Cross, "That people I admire, with unarguable talent, would condone this totalitarian fiefdom for ... what, a fourth house? A boat? More sneakers?" He then lowered the boom:

"Clearly you guys don't give a s*** about what the rest of us think, but how can any of us take any of you seriously ever again? All of your b***hing about "cancel culture" and "freedom of speech" and all that s***? Done. You don't get to talk about it ever again. By now we've all seen the contract you had to sign."

It's impossible to get a consensus on comedy fans' reactions because social media has now been divided into cliques on X, Facebook, Bluesky and so on. There's a swirl of support and fury. We'll have to wait until after October 8 to see if any permanent damage has been done to these comedians' reputations, but it seems likely that some professional relationships are over.