Finding Flaws in the Mona Lisa

Ronny Chieng’s provocations fall flat.

- NICHOLAS QUAH

RONNY CHIENG: SPEAKEASY NETFLIX.

Speakeasy opens with a shot of the comedian Ronny Chieng and his wife walking through New York’s Chinatown to the croon of a Chinese folk song, then ducking into Chinese Tuxedo, the Cantonese restaurant that serves as the night’s venue. When he takes the stage, dressed in a white tux jacket and bow tie, he stands on a small round platform in the middle of the dining space, circled by red lanterns, candlelight, and foliage from more equatorial climates. This comedy special—Chieng’s second with Netflix—is flowing with Chinese American iconography.

It’s a bummer, then, that Chieng’s actual material never becomes as interesting as Speakeasy looks. Chieng holds a rare position: He’s a globally oriented stand-up whose main job is making comedy out of American politics. Born in Malaysia and ethnically Chinese, Chieng grew up partly in Singapore and partly in the U.S. By the time he moved back to the States in 2015, he was a successful comedian who had already toured throughout Australia, New Zealand, and Asia. But this country is where he found the grandest possible platform for his work after landing a spot on The Daily Show—led by another globally oriented comedian, Trevor Noah.

Chieng has a compelling, kinetic presence. He often comes off as if he were restraining himself from grabbing you by the lapels. He’s best in the first half of Speakeasy, which opens with a lament about American covid skepticism. “All these fucking D-average students who are in the back of the classroom their entire academic career,” he grumbles, an accusing finger piercing the air. “Stay the fuck in the back! Don’t come to the front during a