Richard Pryor contained multitudes, each fully inhabited character funnier and more
insightful than the last, so it’s no wonder when he took the stage at The Comedy Store in
Hollywood in 1973, it’d be a full 15 minutes before he spoke to the adoring audience as
himself. No, he needed to start where he started, on the streetcorner, with all the wit,
wisdom, and general jackassery of Wino & Junkie. Throughout a set full of hard jokes and
detailed character sketches (including the men of the Saturday night police lineup in his
hometown of Preoria, Illinois—the first and riskiest stage he knew), the audience has the
chance to get caught up in the silliness so inherent to Pryor while never losing sight of the
issues America had yet to face (and hasn’t still). There are sex jokes that hit so hard the
women in the audience take an audible refractory period, drug advice that has you weighing
the relative trip-laden merits of dope and acid, and a call-and-response on sandwiches that
proves the irresistibility of zealous Black midwestern preachers; there’s a litany of celebrities
whose names and projects have blurred in Pryor’s mind, but whose faces and friendship so
clearly light him up; there’s even fighting advice (don’t fight Italians, their mothers get
involved, and try to avoid a paternal cowboy whuppin’, because no one wants to get hit with
a chair). And then you get hit with the hardest punch: Pryor reaching out from 50 years past
to make the truth plain. You never hear about civilians accidentally killing cops, so why is it
that cops are always “accidentally” killing Black men? As it turns out, 1973 and 2023 aren’t so
far apart that the legendary Richard Pryor can’t bridge the gap.