Saudi Arabia is investing heavily in entertainment under Vision 2030, but this isn’t just about fun and laughter. It’s about image management. While marketed as a bold plan to diversify the economy and modernize society, critics warn that beneath the glitter and fanfare lies a calculated campaign to whitewash systemic abuses, legitimize an authoritarian regime, and distract the world from ongoing human rights violations.
This October, Riyadh hosted a high-profile Comedy Festival featuring global stars such as Pete Davidson, Kevin Hart, Russell Peters, and Chris Tucker. On the surface, it looked like a celebration of laughter, culture, and global connection, and eventually another milestone in Saudi Arabia’s cultural transformation. But many observers see something more calculated: entertainment deployed as a tool of whitewashing, a deliberate attempt to project openness and modernity while activists, dissidents, and ordinary citizens continue to face repression.
Many comedians declined the invitation, unwilling to participate in what they saw as a state-led PR exercise. David Cross was among the most vocal critics, publicly condemning the festival and urging fellow performers to donate to the Human Rights Foundation rather than lend their names to an event designed to launder the regime’s image. Moreover, Comedian Gianmarco Soresi openly highlighted the core contradiction at the heart of the festival: international performers can enjoy the illusion of freedom on stage, while the very same speech would be dangerous, sometimes deadly, for the people sitting in the audience. He told CNN: “These comedians are allowing their images and reputations, and frankly the brand of American stand-up comedy, to be exploited for propaganda… It’s embarrassing to go on stage and tell jokes that, if tweeted by audience members, could lead to them being executed.”
The illusion of freedom, however, was always limited. Comedians were explicitly restricted in what they could perform: they were barred from preparing or delivering material that could degrade, defame, or bring into public disrepute, contempt, scandal, embarrassment, or ridicule the Kingdom, its leadership, public figures, culture, or people; the Saudi royal family, legal system, or government; or any religion, religious tradition, figure, or practice. At the same time, some acts at the festival focused on sexual content, material considered forbidden under local religious laws, highlighting a striking contradiction. In other words, the festival’s so-called “freedom of expression” came with rigid boundaries carefully designed to avoid offending the state or its institutions, underscoring that the event was less about comedy and more about controlled political image management.
In response, some of the other celebrities invited to the festival reportedly brushed off the criticism, admitting bluntly that the fees were simply too high to turn down. This is a stark reminder that, for the Saudi government, star power is something that can be bought, even when credibility cannot. This festival was not about comedy, it was about legitimising a regime that criminalises dissent, restricts women’s rights and free speech, and punishes LGBTQ+ identities.
Now, YouTube megastar MrBeast (Jimmy Donaldson) is joining this wave of glossy entertainment ventures by launching Beast Land, a temporary theme park in Riyadh created as part of Riyadh Season, a government-funded cultural initiative. While the project has already generated massive global excitement among his fanbase, it also fits perfectly into the Kingdom’s broader visibility strategy. When asked why he chose Saudi Arabia, he downplayed the political implications, framing it purely as a location choice and sidestepping the broader issues of legitimacy and human rights. His answer ignored the real issue: not geography, but legitimacy. By downplaying concerns about Vision 2030 and the political implications of working with a regime known for repression, he inadvertently mirrored the reasoning of some comedians who chose to participate in the festival. More importantly, he reinforced the very narrative the Saudi government seeks to project: that entertainment is apolitical, business is neutral, and collaborating with an authoritarian state is merely a matter of convenience.
Saudi Arabia is therefore using entertainment (comedy festivals, theme parks, concerts) not just to entertain, but to rebrand itself internationally. As more celebrities and internet personalities accept lucrative offers and appear on Saudi stages, the risk is that the global public becomes increasingly desensitised. What should be questioned becomes normalised; what should spark outrage becomes just another headline in celebrity news.