Dave is an acquired taste. And you still may not like it, even when you like it.
Such is the bargain with anti-heroes, who have all but died off in a post-covid entertainment climate. Where once anti-heroes ruled the small screen — from Walter White to Don Draper to Omar Little to Tony Soprano — the Irony Age has given way to an era when lantern-jawed superheroes have a brand to protect, copyrights to consider and studio-funded universes into which to be tenured.
Anti-heroes don’t do well in those universes because death isn’t lethal there. Just ask John Wick or James Bond. And (spoiler alert) three of the four aforementioned protagonists die in their vehicles, smashing head-on with a real world anti-heroes typically inhabit.
Enter, then, Dave, FX’s latest series that continues the network’s dominance in the streaming market. Like Atlanta, the network’s other foray into pop culture, Dave examines life in a music business that’s less about beats and more about beat downs and does not give a fuck.
Where Atlanta features multi-hyphenate entertainer Donald Glover, Dave features, well, Dave Burg, aka Lil Dicky, whose lucky to get a single hyphenate as a Jewish rapper. He’s hairy, slouchy, and uncertain as hell — until he’s given a mic. Think Eminem meets Curb Your Enthusiasm, with Jewish angst set to a drum machine.
Even if you’re not a rap or hip hop fan, Dave has some infectious moments that come from its genuine struggles with privilege and appropriation. Murky waters when white meets blight. Change that: Eminem meets Mr. Rogers.
Lil Dicky is a canny dj name for Burg, as LD’s favorite songs tend to be how he got the nickname. In great detail. Dave has a South Park ethos, but with Burg as a real-life Cartman. Lil Dicky believes himself a generational rapper, and his narcissism can run Kaufman deep. And funny. And Kaufman deep and not-so-funny.
That, too, is the anti-hero gamble. Dave as a soul is utterly up for sale — in the form of clicks, likes and retweets. In its third season, the same can be said for the show, just monetized: Dave seems to take commercial breaks every five minutes.
The self help ads are worth the occasional brilliance, though. The singularly named GaTa plays a rapper and Lil Dicky’s hype man — in the show and real life. And it’s his contribution, not Burg’s, that makes the show bounce. He’s bipolar rage on the show, and he literally gives Lil Dicky the one commodity he can’t schtick his way through: street credibility on a racially rickety rollercoaster.
Like any freestyle act, Dave has a flash drive-ful of awkward silences, cultural misreads and racially-tinged flashpoints. But, in testimony either for or against the sheer force of will, Lil Dicky has the mic.
