Immortal

At fifty-six, already decades into an A-list career, Chris Rock is rebooting the Saw franchise. He nailed the fourth season of Fargo. He’s directing again. He’s writing more jokes. The man might just be trying to live forever.

- MITCHELL S. JACKSON

HE STOPS ON A PEDESTRIAN ISLAND TO LET TRAFFIC PASS on Houston Street, and in that brief wait, I wonder if the people in the trundling cars spy one of the most famous comedians on earth under his mask and transition-lens glasses. No one, though, drops the window to shout his name or honk or jab an index in astonishment—Chris Rock granted a reprieve from living famous 24/7/365. Rock, who’s dressed casual in a hoodie and cargo pants and white Reebok Classic trainers, troops a half step ahead of me, a Tumi backpack slung over a shoulder.

We turn past a multitude of preschoolers enjoying the recess of their lives inside a fenced-in ball field and amble on up MacDougal. He slows his gait a bit. “The thing about this block is: It’s where Cosby worked. It’s where Joan Rivers worked. It’s where Woody Allen worked. It’s where Mort Sahl worked. All these motherfuckers,” says Rock. “It’s where Bob Dylan worked. Where Jimi Hendrix worked. You know what I mean? It’s kind of a mecca for pushing it.”

The street is narrow in normal times, but with the New York City Covid protocols for indoor dining, it takes careful maneuvering to avoid smacking, with our backpacks, people palavering at outdoor tables.

We stop outside the Comedy Cellar, the club that sits down a few scuffed steps from street level. A helluva lot of feet have walked down these steps and onto the stage inside, most on their way to nowhere, a few on their way to a career, and a tiny handful on their way to being remembered.