Ricky Gervais boldly declares his indifference to legacy in a daring Netflix stand-up spectacle called Mortality— but is this fearless act a stroke of genius or a missed opportunity that leaves fans craving more depth?
When I first learned about Ricky Gervais's latest Netflix blockbuster, titled Mortality, I was genuinely excited. Here was a comedian renowned for his razor-sharp wit in groundbreaking shows like The Office and Extras, poised to dissect the big questions of life and death with surgical precision. It sounded like a recipe for profound comedy, blending laughter with existential insights. Yet, what unfolds is a series of everyday gripes laced with provocative jabs, delivering a far less refined experience than anticipated.
Throughout history, some of the finest comedians have tackled the universal theme of our mortality, extracting both wisdom and humor. Think of George Carlin's iconic bit about a two-minute warning for everyone before the end, or Norm Macdonald's candid rant against the euphemisms surrounding illness and death, refusing to sugarcoat the reality. Gervais himself, now 64, has delved into themes of loss in his series After Life. But in Mortality, if there's any fresh perspective on this profound and somber subject, it remains stubbornly hidden. Death itself feels like an afterthought in this hour-long performance.
Gervais admits as much toward the close of the show, stating: 'It wasn’t about death, it’s about life.' More precisely, it's a mirror to his own world as a successful, acclaimed stand-up comedian, filled with minor annoyances—like people making irritating sounds around him—and fabricated critics he can heroically defend against as champions of free expression.
He kicks off the special, much like with Armageddon two years prior, by flaunting how the barrage of complaints and boycott calls only propelled his shows to the top of Netflix charts. Later, he targets 'elitists' he's imagining are out to muzzle him. But consider this: Armageddon not only shattered viewing records and grossed millions, but it also snagged a Golden Globe for Best Stand-Up. Mortality is already in the running for next year's awards, and Gervais just received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Are these so-called elitists really lurking in the shadows, Ricky? With all this triumph under his belt, his persistent cries about cancel culture risk sounding like the very victimhood he professes to despise.
And here's where it gets controversial: Mortality might not stir up the same storm as 2022's SuperNature, which an LGBTQ+ charity labeled as 'dangerous, anti-trans rants disguised as humor.' To his credit, possibly influenced by James Acaster's viral takedown mocking him for repeatedly targeting the trans community, Gervais steers clear of that topic entirely this time.
Instead, he opts for outdated controversies that feel like relics from a bygone era. There's an extended routine about reclaiming 'gammon' as a white man's version of the n-word, and cheekily telling Black people they can't use it— a bit that comes across as hopelessly outdated. Gervais might insist the joke is about hypocrisy rather than racism, but to land it, one has to ignore the n-word's painful historical baggage. He urges us to evaluate his words in their specific context, yet conveniently overlooks broader history to chase an uncomfortable chuckle.
But this is the part most people miss: Gervais isn't racist himself—he clearly isn't. It's just that his humor on these matters lacks any subtlety or depth. For instance, he quips that social justice advocates are merely echoing the norms of their time, saying: 'People say things like: “Oh, I’m anti-racist.” Yeah, well done, we all are. We know that’s the way to be now.' In a utopia where everyone embraced anti-racism unanimously, he might have a valid point. But in our flawed reality, what's the counterargument? 'Er, have you checked the headlines recently?'
That said, not everything in Mortality falls flat. Some segments truly sparkle, like his cutting depiction of Stephen Hawking on Epstein's island, sharp and incisive. Echoing his David Brent days, Gervais's physical comedy shines—whether he's miming his age making him undesirable even to prison inmates, or vividly demonstrating how he'd eagerly perform certain acts in hell (inspired by The Exorcist) because, hey, there are worse gigs down there.
What Mortality sorely lacks is genuine introspection. Gervais repeatedly claims this is 'my most honest and confessional show so far,' but the content doesn't support it. Maybe he's alluding to his backstage tales from hosting the Golden Globes, which mostly devolve into an Alan Partridge-style yarn about outsmarting stuffy lawyers who wanted to censor 'minge' by gesturing instead. Spoiler: he got the final laugh.
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He tosses in a quick anecdote about jokingly requesting to be fed to lions at the London Zoo after death (though he doesn't mean it), and a handful of complaints about aging's challenges, but there's surprisingly less reflection on his own mortality than in Armageddon. Back then, he mused: 'We all die. We all know we’re going to die, and we all do die,' yet he refused to arrange his funeral, declaring: 'F*** my legacy. You can’t plan your legacy.' Gervais stands as one of Britain's funniest comedy minds, but based on this material, he's dead serious about disregarding his legacy.
In Mortality's most sincere segment, Gervais proclaims: 'Whatever side of the political fence you’re on, we should all agree that free speech is still a really good thing.' And he's right—free speech is invaluable, and he's reaped the benefits handsomely. He even slips in a nod to his vodka brand before wrapping up. Awards, global acclaim, and a luxurious mansion are his rewards. But here's a controversial twist: What value does free speech hold if there's nothing meaningful to express?
‘Mortality’ is available now on Netflix.
What do you think? Is Gervais's approach to comedy a refreshing rebellion against political correctness, or does it reveal a lack of depth that undermines his talent? Do you agree that free speech matters most when paired with substance, or is the humor enough? Share your thoughts in the comments—let's debate!