Judge Adam Arseneau needs a hype man. Yeah, that's right, boyyy, a hype man!
Flavor Flav gets clocked!
Yes, television has descended to this. Legendary timepiece-sporting hype man Flavor Flav, rapper from Public Enemy turned reality television star, has apparently earned himself a roast at the hands of Comedy Central. Words fail.
Seriously, we should be ashamed as a culture. When alien civilizations descend to the wreckages of our cities in future years, they will find hundreds of thousands of pristine, perfectly preserved unopened copies of Comedy Central Roast of Flavor Flav buried in a landfill and judge the merits of our civilization upon its virtues. As a result, these aliens will not use their advanced space technology to resurrect us from the ashes and artificially accelerate our culture into that of enlightenment and eternal harmony. Thanks a lot, Flavor Flav.
To be fair, this is not entirely his fault. Yes, Flav has become a living, breathing caricature of his own celebrity, graduating from jumping around in a Viking helmet, gold teeth, and oversized clocks on rap stages to jumping around in a Viking helmet, gold teeth, and oversized clocks on reality television. At the end of the day, this can hardly be considered "career advancement," but hey, a brother's gotta make a living. It's not like Public Enemy sells records like they did back in the eighties and nineties, right? But my goodness, things have gotten dire. The show opens with Flav flying into the auditorium on invisible cables, screaming his own name and "yeah boyeeeee!" With this, his contribution to the show officially ends. Hope you enjoyed it.
Of course, everyone knows a roast is only as good as the roasters. Bear this in mind when you watch this DVD, so that you will know exactly who to blame. Alexis Arquette, Snoop Dogg, Lisa Lampanelli, Carrot Top, Sommore, Brigitte Nielsen, Ice-T—save yourself the trouble, folks. This is like a comedic vivisection. Out of all the roasters, Jimmy Kimmel probably lands the only jokes in the show that are halfway amusing, but even he drowns in these shallow rocky waters. Most of the jokes are anatomical in reference, and usually revolve around how many large black men are present at any time inside Lisa Lampanelli. Good for a laugh, sure, but 73 minutes is an awful long time.
The best part of the show is about two minutes during the video recap of Flavor Flav's career, which is packed full of classic Public Enemy moments. Again, to reiterate: it lasts two minutes. I have no problem with a roast; heck, a good comedic roast is a rare and magnificent feat of skill and uproarious energy. What Comedy Central Roast of Flavor Flav does is besmirches the very notion of a comedic roast by giving it to somebody entirely undeserving of it. I mean, it's Flavor Flav for Bob's sake, people; he wears a Viking hat and a gigantic clock! He has @#$% gold teeth! On stage in Public Enemy, that works just fine—but in what bizarre universe does giving Flavor Flav a comedic roast make any sense? And then inviting Carrot Top? Has the world seriously turned crazy and left me behind here? Anyone? Bueller?
Credit should go to Comedy Central for including over 40 minutes of supplementary features—nearly as long as the feature itself—but I shudder to imagine who would want them. We get 30 minutes of red carpet interviews from cast and prominent audience members, two minutes of behind-the-scenes "backstage pass" pre- and post-show footage, Flav giving us a tour of his trailer (which thankfully lasts barely a minute), and (this one especially terrifies me) six minutes of Flav-Cam bonus footage. The Flav-Cam? That's right. They put a camera in his gigantic clock. Serenity now.
From a technical standpoint the disc is on par with previous television releases from Comedy Central, firmly planted in the middle ground—decent contrast and color saturation, okay detail and black levels, but nothing to write home about in any way, shape, or form. Likewise with the audio, a simple stereo presentation that neither detracts from nor heightens the recording; it simply is.
Mad props to the Flav for the best hype man in hip-hop, but those salad days have come and gone. The Flavor Flav of today is some mangled abomination of trashy reality television, or to paraphrase one roaster, a crack head who wears a Viking helmet. Why he deserves a comedic roast I will never understand. Perhaps the more alarming and pressing issue at hand is why anyone would watch him receive a comedic roast. The existence of this DVD implies that somebody somewhere would. This cannot be allowed to transpire, if only for the good of our future utopian existence at the hands of a benevolent alien species. As consumers, your duty is clear—as is Comedy Central's guilt.
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Scales of Justice
Studio: Comedy Central
• Red Carpet Interviews
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