The inaugural Riyadh Comedy Festival, held in Saudi Arabia from late September through early October 2025, has ignited a firestorm of debate across the global comedy community and beyond. Bringing together a constellation of comedic stars—Dave Chappelle, Kevin Hart, Bill Burr, Pete Davidson, Sebastian Maniscalco, Chris Tucker, Whitney Cummings, Aziz Ansari, Gabriel Iglesias, and more—the festival was billed by Saudi tourism authorities as "the world’s largest comedy festival." Yet, as the laughter faded, sharp questions and pointed criticism echoed across social media, news outlets, and even among the performers themselves.
At the heart of the controversy lies Saudi Arabia’s well-documented human rights record. The kingdom has faced international condemnation for its involvement in the 9/11 attacks, the 2018 assassination of journalist Jamal Khashoggi, pervasive restrictions on free speech, and the oppression of women and LGBTQ+ individuals. According to The New York Times and Human Rights Watch, critics of the festival argue that the event is an attempt to "whitewash" Saudi Arabia’s abuses through glitzy entertainment and lucrative payouts to Western celebrities.
One of the most headline-grabbing moments came when Dave Chappelle, performing before 6,000 people on October 4, 2025, used his set to draw a stark comparison between free speech in the United States and Saudi Arabia. "Right now in America, they say that if you talk about Charlie Kirk, that you’ll get canceled. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m gonna find out," Chappelle joked, referencing the recent assassination of the right-wing activist. He continued, "It’s easier to talk here than it is in America." Chappelle even suggested he feared retaliation upon returning to the U.S.: "They’re going to do something to me so that I can’t say what I want to say."
Chappelle’s remarks sparked immediate debate. On Real Time with Bill Maher, Maher called out the irony, pointing to the kingdom’s tightly controlled media and harsh penalties for dissent. In 2022, for instance, doctoral student Salma al-Shehab was sentenced to 34 years in prison for retweeting women’s rights activists—a sentence only reduced after international outrage, as reported by The New York Times. Louis C.K., who also performed at the festival, responded on Maher’s show, "Yeah, I don’t know if that’s true," when asked if comics truly have more freedom in Riyadh than in the U.S.
Louis C.K., whose appearance marked his first major TV interview since his 2017 sexual misconduct scandal, was forthright about his mixed feelings. "I struggled about going once I started hearing about what everybody was saying," he admitted. "There’s some good in it, maybe some bad in it. But I think for me it cuts toward going. That’s my decision, and I know where it’s coming from, because I can see right inside myself." He added, "People have been playing Saudi Arabia for years. Comedians have been going and playing Arab countries. There was a film festival there recently, it’s kind of opened up." C.K. explained that the only restrictions placed on his set were to avoid jokes about Islam or the Saudi government—topics he said he doesn’t cover anyway. "It used to be when I got offers from places like that, there would be a long list, and I’d just say, ‘No, I don’t need that.’ But when I heard it’s opening, I thought, that’s awfully interesting. That just feels like a good opportunity. And I just feel like comedy is a great way to get in and start talking."
Yet, not everyone in the comedy world was convinced. Comedians like Marc Maron, Shane Gillis, and David Cross were vocal in their criticism. Cross, in particular, penned a lengthy takedown of his peers, citing Saudi Arabia’s involvement in 9/11, the Khashoggi murder, and persistent oppression of marginalized groups. Gillis revealed on his podcast that he was offered a "significant bag" to perform but turned it down, while comedian Atsuko Okatsuka shared that her invitation included "content restrictions" barring jokes that criticize the Saudi royal family, the government, or religion.
Jessica Kirson, an openly gay comedian who performed at the festival on September 29, 2025, issued a heartfelt apology afterward. In a statement to The Hollywood Reporter, she said, "I hoped that this could help LGBTQ+ people in Saudi Arabia feel seen and valued. I am grateful that I was able to do precisely that—to my knowledge, I am the first openly gay comic to talk about it on stage in Saudi Arabia. I received messages from attendees sharing how much it meant to them to participate in a gay-affirming event. At the same time, I deeply regret participating under the auspices of the Saudi government. Most importantly, I am deeply sorry to all the fans and followers I have hurt or disappointed."
Bill Burr, who also took the stage in Riyadh, offered a contrasting perspective. On his "Monday Morning Podcast," Burr described the experience as "mind-blowing," saying, "I had to stop a couple times during the show and say, ‘I’ll be honest with you guys, I cannot believe any of you have any idea who I am.’ It was just this great exchange of energy. They know their reputation. So they were extra friendly. The royals loved the show. Everyone was happy. The people that were doing the festival were thrilled." Burr called it "one of the top three experiences" of his life.
Notably, the festival coincided with the seventh anniversary of Jamal Khashoggi’s murder, a fact not lost on human rights organizations. Human Rights Watch lambasted the event as an attempt to distract from, or "comedy wash," the Saudi regime’s abuses. The organizers’ decision to invite over 50 international performers, and the reported six-figure payouts to top names, only fueled allegations that the festival was more about image management than genuine cultural openness.
Meanwhile, some comedians were reportedly dropped from the lineup for old jokes critical of Saudi Arabia. Tim Dillon revealed he was offered $375,000 to perform but was removed after a resurfaced joke about the kingdom came to light. The appearance contracts, shared by Okatsuka, made clear that criticism of the royals or religion was strictly off-limits—a stark reminder of the limits on free expression in the kingdom.
As the dust settles, the Riyadh Comedy Festival stands as a microcosm of the larger debate about cultural engagement versus complicity. For some, it represented a hopeful step toward dialogue and change, however incremental. For others, it was a well-funded distraction from ongoing injustice. The comedians who participated, and those who chose to stay away, have all found themselves at the center of a complex and unresolved conversation about art, ethics, and the power of laughter in a world where the stakes are anything but trivial.
In the end, the festival may have delivered plenty of punchlines, but it also left the comedy world—and its global audience—grappling with questions that defy easy answers.
