It’s quite the document, this new Jamie Foxx special, in which the Oscar- and Grammy-winner opens up about the “mystery illness” that nearly killed him. You could view it as the 56-year-old’s hymn to God, his fans (and himself, frankly) as, trembling of lip, he expresses gratitude for this second shot at life. Or as the ravening Hollywood ego made manifest in standup and song. Or as a case study in the confusions of modern masculinity. Any which way, it certainly makes an impression.
What renders the show (clunkily titled What Had Happened Was …) newsworthy is its account of the stroke Foxx had in April 2023, which removed him from public life and prompted rumours he had died. In Foxx’s account, it was a death, of sorts. Using a wheelchair, unable to wipe his backside, Foxx had to slay the old, egotistical Jamie so a humbler one could heal and move on. Such were the teachings of a no-nonsense Chicago nurse who shepherded the superstar to recovery, with the help of his sister, his daughters, his fans’ prayers – and the Lord and Saviour who orchestrated all this, too.
The stroke, we learn, was a divine punishment for Foxx’s poor church attendance. Happily, Jamie now so repenteth of his sins that this set morphs into a spiritual service by the end, its host leading his flock in a godly singalong. Before that, there are long, lingering closeups of him breaking down in tears (“Please, Lord, let me get through this”) and swaggering standup about how “Jamie motherfucking Foxx … don’t need no therapists”. Sometimes the switchbacks between the many faces of modern machismo are dizzying, as our host pivots from sobbing on stage with his 14-year-old daughter to cracking wise about no longer having sex with “white girls”.
What’s plain, finally, is that Foxx has been shaken by his experience – and that he remains an extraordinary entertainer, whether that is as a pianist, singer, mimic (with great impersonations of Trump, Denzel Washington, Jay-Z and more) or raconteur. Overblown and religiose it may be, but this jaws-of-death account is heart-on-sleeve and hard to take your eyes off.
