Chris Rock: Tamborine

Tamborine never goes too dark, nor does Rock ever truly blur the line between stand-up set and therapy session. Whether he’s talking about Trump, marriage in the era of cell phones, or a humbling chance encounter with Rihanna, Rock never loses sight of the comedy--even as he distributes the hard-earned wisdom that comes from regret.

Mr. Rock does not wallow in melancholy and regret over lost love. He turns them into a great comedy special, just in time for Valentine’s Day.

Rock is as good a writer as it’s possible for a comedian to be without sounding written. He’s in fine form in Tamborine.

The Chris Rock of Tamborine is a man in the middle of a life transition. He’s less brazenly confident than he was in his younger days, humbled at least a bit by nearly losing the right to see his own children. But while he may have been brought low as a husband and father, Rock’s powers as a comedian have not been diminished.

The role of a male comedian--particularly one like Rock--has since assumed a whole new dimension, too. He launches with Black Lives Matter, moves on to the failure of schools to prepare kids for life, then establishes the importance of bullies. But that’s the warm-up act for the main show--that apologia for his indefensible behavior and the personal failures he brought upon himself.

The first half of the show finds Rock mining for outraged laughs in topics like police shootings, racism, bullying, and (inextricably linked to all three) the rise of Donald Trump with practiced skill. ... The second half of Tamborine is both weaker and paradoxically more riveting.

The material about being a black American is Tamborine’s gold mine, which is probably why it leads off the special, to get you hooked. To be sure, it’s heavy-duty stuff. ... When he starts to discuss the divorce, the roaring energy of his performance ebbs and slows.