Richard Pryor Leaves Them Laughing

Richard Pryor changed comedy in the English-speaking world. He would have laughed at that line for its pompous tone, but then, like his own comedy, the laughter rests on truth. At the end of his 65 years, multiple sclerosis had imprisoned him in a body that refused to cooperate. One prefers to think of him standing on stage with a microphone, forever young and funny.

With the possible exceptions of Bill Cosby and Redd Foxx, no black man did more to talk to all Americans about race – the 800-pound gorilla in America’s culture. He had his own approach. In his autobiography, Pryor Convictions, he wrote, “Nigger. I decided to take the sting out of it. Nigger. As if saying it over and over again would numb me and everybody else to its wretchedness.” On this point, one respectfully disagrees. The word is the ugliest in the language, and one might hope it could die through lack of use. It is a noun that doesn’t actually exist like “unicorn.” After a 1980 trip to Africa, he decided to drop the use of the word having come to the same conclusion.

He won five Grammy awards for his records, which include “That Nigger's Crazy” (a later record was called “That African-American’s Crazy” with the older title crossed out) and 1976's “Bicentennial Nigger.” The funniest may have been “Is It Something I Said?” On the cover (what a loss it will be when album covers are no more), was Mr. Pryor surrounded by Klansmen about to be burned at the stake – and the title appearing as an innocent caption. Most of his funniest stuff was self-deprecating. He once lit himself on fire while freebasing cocaine, and that turned into a bit he performed on celluloid in 1982, “Richard Pryor Live on Sunset Strip.” He said, “You know something I noticed? When you run down the street on fire people will move out of your way.” He added that he had heard the jokes about him – he would light a match and moved in up and down saying, “What’s this? Richard Pryor running down the street.”

Loads of comedians from Robin Williams to Eddie Murphy to Dave Chappelle have careers because of Mr. Pryor, and they all admit it. Perhaps the best tribute came from Britain’s Lenny Henry, who himself is hilarious and deserves an American audience far bigger than he has. Mr. Henry said, “ He made several films. The best is ‘Live In Concert.’ It was filmed in Long Beach, California. When I saw it I wanted to pack it in, because I thought, ‘Oh God, this guy's a genius’.” That is the true measure of a genius, one who makes others doubt their ability to follow so much talent. As for white comedians, Bob Newhart (who is so white one can see through him) said, Mr. Pryor was “the single most seminal comedic influence in the last 50 years.” Steve Martin said, “By expressing his heart, anger and joy, Richard Pryor took comedy to its highest form.”

Mr. Pryor, of course, was anything but a role model. Married 7 times, he admitted he didn’t understand women. His drug abuse may have added to his MS and all-too-early demise. On the other hand, he never told kids, “Grow up to be like me – I’m great.” But as a comedian and dramatic actor (his role in “Lady Sings the Blues” proved his ability in drama), he was great.


© Copyright 2005 by The Kensington Review, J. Myhre, Editor. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written consent.
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