Pete Davidson Savors Low-Hanging Fruit on His New Special Turbo Fonzarelli

I’ll say this for Pete Davidson’s new Netflix special, Turbo Fonzarelli: At least it’s actually funny. It’s not particularly clever, or surprising, but I laughed, which is more than I can say about his last effort, Alive From New York. Released in 2020, the latter was a sloppy excuse for name dropping and shock value elements like casual racism. Thankfully Davidson leaves these tendencies behind, save for a mention of Aretha Franklin’s funeral (yes, he really did attend).

On Turbo Fonzarelli, Davidson’s jokes are tighter—though in fairness, it would be difficult not to improve on the loose puddle of comedy soup that was Alive From New York. We get some nice callbacks, and even though there’s not a massive amount of structure, that’s not why you watch Davidson. What Davidson has, and why people are drawn to him, is his laid back charm. His shrugging delivery and natural comedic timing make him an easy watch, even if what he’s saying isn’t often novel or well-crafted. 

That charisma is part of why Davidson has done so well transitioning to film roles, and why I suspect acting is where his talent truly lies. Two projects that Davidson wrote and starred in, 2020’s King of Staten Island and the 2023 Peacock series Bupkis, struggle because writing simply isn’t his strong suit. While he’s plenty funny, plots are dropped or end abruptly; there’s a rigor required when writing, whether for stand-up or scripted projects, that Davidson doesn’t seem interested in applying. 

Much of Turbo Fonzarelli dwells on Davidson’s mother (who’s apparently so horny he jokes about having sex with her just to help ease things in the family), his distaste for Make-A-Wish, and his stalker. In case the parenthetical didn’t tip you off, things get crude pretty fast (don’t let the fake gravitas of the choice to shoot in black-and-white fool you). Gross-out humor can be some of the most refreshing stuff out there—there’s a baseness to it that is so immediate and visceral. Think about the disgusting stunts in Jackass, Eric André’s off-putting hijinks on his talk show, or films like Borat and Superbad. But these shows and movies possess an audacity and inventiveness that can’t be found in Davidson’s stand-up.

Turbo Fonzarelli ends up feeling puerile, an hour where Davidson can munch on the lowest hanging fruit without much effort at all. While Davidson himself is feeling the pressures of growing up (the special was taped the same week as his 30th birthday), his comedy has not matured in the meantime. And this isn’t exactly surprising—as I touched on in the review of his last special, Davidson may simply be too famous to be funny. Or, to be more precise, he’s not interested in challenging himself to earn more than the automatic, easy laughs of his existing fans. Plenty of household names in stand-up are still side-splittingly hilarious, like Wanda Sykes, but that’s only because she is dedicated to the craft and actually making an hour worth watching. Davidson got famous so young that he has the luxury of staying in an artistic Neverland, where he can keep spewing out lazy jokes to a chorus of reliable laughs.

Davidson’s new special Turbo Fonzarelli proves that while charm and fame can get you most places, it can’t make you good at stand-up.