A cathartic, rousing, one-man-band sort of 'coming out' performance-theater-thingy during which Foxx emotionally recounts the brain bleed and stroke that required a great deal of time, prayer, people, and physical therapy to overcome.
He introduces his two daughters, performs a duet with one, delivers a series of hilarious celebrity impressions, plays the piano, dances, and shares story after story about his historic characters to prove "I ain't no clone."
Do you remember 2023's Mike Birbiglia: The Old Man and the Pool, also on Netflix? Mike told some jokes—but also TONS of stories—and periodically the lighting and music would change, images would flicker behind him, and he'd sort of retreat into another character or persona, very much like an actor playing a different part. Foxx does something very similar here, which makes this special more than 'just' stand-up comedy or audition tape.
It feels equal parts comedy, gospel, church, preaching, testifying, testimonial-izing, quoting conversations and arguments with God, sharing his faith...and then also cussing throughout and aggrandizing himself.
I'm always torn by such delivery.
On the one hand, it doesn't bother me at all: People are proud, contemporary language is profanely foul, and I respect people's and communities' rights to use their words.
On the other hand, "loud language" (as Hugh Grant describes it in Heretic) is so distracting and offensive (a "micro-aggression that triggers," as the young people in "safe spaces" say these days) that one can't help but lose the thread.
It has long been said, "A man wrapped up in himself makes for a very small package," and I understand that. Sure, it niggles at me when Foxx goes on and on and on about how he's "Jamie-motherfu*****-Foxx," so "sh** like strokes don't happen to me," but he does go to great lengths to thank profusely (and by name) the many doctors, nurses, family, friends, and fans who saved his life through medicine, love, and prayer.
On IMDB, Jamie Foxx: What Had Happened Was... sits at 6.2 (out of 10, yes) with 104 "1s" and 201 "10s" among the 1,000 viewers who have weighed in, and if that ain't life for ya, I don't know what is!
You can please some of the people some of the time, all of the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time.
As for little old me, I'd give Eric Bishop an 8.5 for this outing, but that won't buy you a coffee now, will it?
Nevertheless, I found it an hour well-spent. I laughed, I cried, I bowed my head, I hugged my chest, I smiled warm tears of joy watching this incredibly gifted performer from Terrell, Texas do his thing. He gave thanks to God "for the blessing of this stroke which put me back in church" and shared vulnerability after vulnerability, his fear, his gratitude, his encouragement, and yes, his confidence and cocky swagger.
Might someone else have done it differently, or perhaps even better?
Who's to say?
If we get in the business of taking offense at every micro-aggression, or judging our fellow sisters and brothers for their imperfections, or policing others' language, my goodness, what a colorless, prison-like world we'd impose upon ourselves.
I'm happy Jamie's got a pep in his step again.
We almost lost him, ya know, and imperfections and all, he's a singular talent who will continue to put more good out into the world than bad, and God knows we need that more now than ever.
“Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” ―Mark Twain
