In his article for Splitsider.com (7/6/2017), comic, critic, writer and teacher David Misch notes that there is an idea (held by at least one professional critic) that “authenticity in comedy is…bullshit.” Misch disagrees. However, he’s making a distinction between only speaking truth, and Picasso’s definition of art as “the lie that reveals the truth.” He says, “Comedy, like all art, doesn’t give a shit about accuracy. But art cares deeply about the truth.” Basically, comics don’t have to be historically, factually accurate, as long as they tell the truth.
Accuracy vs. truth
Late in the piece, Misch claims,
The vast majority of comics’ acts are based on their lives. We know everything they say isn’t literally true but we expect that it’s at least truth-adjacent.
And still later:
Bill Cosby (…) became famous telling stories about his childhood…. [I]n the 1960s no one wondered – no one cared – whether his stories were true, because they felt true. People knew (or were) Fat Alberts in school and could relate.
That’s how most standup works: think up a joke then pretend it’s part of your life. But “authenticity” is the key; stories are more effective when they feel like they could have happened. Yet a successful joke depends not on its “realness” but on the artfulness of its construction and delivery. Which is as it should be; standup is about being funny, not having a funny life.
Here he’s noting the difference between what academics call “facticity” and Stephen Colbert calls “truthiness,” whether or not it “rings true,” and actual truth or accuracy. He says that comedy should be judged on the construction of the art – the joke work – and on its impact (laughter), not on its accuracy, because audiences suspend disbelief.
Suspension of [dis]belief
Misch notes,“There’s a contract between artist and audience: we suspend [dis]belief and you give us pleasure.” Rewording this, he repeats that in comedy we “accept the premise and get a laugh…. Accepting a premise means suspending disbelief.” Having finally gotten the phrase correct, Misch goes on to talk about how the comic’s accuracy affects their relationship with the audience:
“Authenticity” doesn’t require truth but it does depend on whether a joke reveals truth or is just there for a cheap laugh. Now I’m all for cheap laughs (…), but the calculus for every standup is how much a cheap laugh costs for her relationship with the audience.
This implies that, rather than his argument above that producing laughter is the main goal, we also have to have a “truthful” point. Cheap laughs are still laughs, but apparently they’re not enough. The problem is, as he notes early on, that “truth” is slippery.
(Small “t”) truths
Early in the essay, Misch states,
Of course, everyone’s “truth” is different; standup truth is one the audience either shares or comes to share by dint of the comic’s comic persuasion.
I agree with the first part of this statement, but not in the way he means it. Misch seems to mean that standup only has one truth that the comic creates; mine is a postmodern take on truth (Lyotard).
Rather than there being a monolithic (big “T”) Truth, which would have you believe that everything in your High School history book literally took place the way it says – because we all know books are handed down by the gods to us mere mortals, so they are literally 100% true – we recognize that the history book is just the account of the victors, and that there was probably a lot more going on – several (small “t”) “truths.” Similarly, in every joke different people can read different things onto it, and potentially find different sources of humor.
As I argued previously, Misch only seems to grant this leeway to Daniel Tosh, who’s rape joke response to a heckler may have been brilliant – or not. In all Misch’s other examples, there’s only one possible interpretation – one truth that is revealed – whereas I have argued for multiple. Sure, if the comic is on their game and thinking it through, they can craft a joke where the laugh is mostly intentional, but as my Gabriel Iglesias example shows, that’s not a given, but at least Iglesias’ fan laughed.
The Tosh example further reveals that the audience doesn’t have to share the truth of the comic – the heckler certainly didn’t, despite Tosh’s “comic persuasion.” This wasn’t a “failed joke,” because some people were laughing, but clearly not everyone was.
Misch also makes the point that the persona of the comic matters.
Characters vs. slippery personas
Misch notes, “While most comics speak in the first person, almost all say they perform as characters,” so “the idea of authenticity in a standup’s persona is bullshit.”
As I’ve displayed via the documentary Dying Laughing and a few other examples, this is not true; quite a few comics say that as they mature in their comedy they find their “true” voice – they become more “themselves.” I’ve argued that they’re somewhat mistaken as it seems to be a negotiation [if a sometimes unexamined one]; they become the funniest type of person both they and the audience let themselves be.
It is in this vein that Misch differentiates between “character” comics (Andrew Dice Clay and Gilbert Gottfried) who are acting out a role, and “slippery” personas (Amy Schumer) that are merely exaggerated versions of the “real” person. I would argue that all comics are “slippery,” some are just more slippery than others – so yes, authenticity is to some extent “bullshit.”
Personal observations vs. cultural critiques
He also differentiates between comics who make “personal observations” and those who make “cultural critiques” or “social commentary”:
Standups who make social commentary – Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Lewis Black – usually represent clear moral points of view, and audiences who embrace them usually embrace their perspectives….
Wouldn’t we feel betrayed if we found out that the political routines of Bruce, Carlin, Dick Gregory, Richard Pryor (then), John Oliver, Samantha Bee, Trevor Noah, and Seth Meyers (now) didn’t reflect their beliefs? Being Muslim-American is central to Hasan Minhaj’s identity as a standup – wouldn’t we feel differently about him if it turned out he was Baptist?
…Stephen Colbert, now freed from his Comedy Central mock-conservative character, revels in what seems to be personal political judgments. His routines get at least some of their impact from our belief that he’s talking to us (and Trump) from the heart as well as the writers’ room. If we learned that wasn’t true, Colbert would lose a lot of his comic force.
These are good points, and display a belief that Colbert and company’s comedy possess force. However, Colbert was invited to the White House Correspondent’s Dinner in 2007 because he was read “straight” – as Pro-Republican. His persona, which was more of a character, was read as merely slippery, and yet he certainly had force to his words there.
Problems
What Colbert’s example reveals is that comedy, even when mistaken, even when unintentional has an impact, and we need to own that.
Further, I’m not sure I agree that this impact only applies to cultural, social or “political” comics – where does this line lie? Is Louis C.K.’s rape joke more personal observation or does it transcend into cultural critique? Misch seems to read it as the latter, when a more friendly reading is that it was just a limited incident that helps C.K. make a (different) larger point – he doesn’t want to rape (or at least, doesn’t want to be accused of rape).
Similarly, Larry the Cable Guy plays a rube, but in real life he’s anything but – he’s Daniel Lawrence Whitney from Nebraska, and is a college graduate. Carlos Mencia is Ned Holness and he’s only half-Mexican; he was born in Honduras. Does knowing this change the impact of their comedy? Do we feel betrayed? Or does the material stand on its own, independent of the person behind the curtain?
Perhaps some of the force would be gone, but some would certainly remain. That’s another premise of my project: If we strip the speaker and speech act down to their most untrustworthy, least reliable forms, what persuasive potential remains? It turns out, quite a bit. That’s why ethics is important, even in comedy, and here’s where I’m back to agreeing with Misch.
No “ethical invisibility”
Misch notes,
The counter-argument [to the idea that social commentary comics “represent clear moral points of view”] seems to be that comedians’ personas have no relationship to who they actually are. But isn’t that classic cake-having and -eating? Successful standups shouldn’t be judged on the personas that make their fortunes?
I agree with all of this. Stand-up’s personas do not have to have a relationship to who they actually are, but they still have to own the effects. Stand-ups should be judged on the personas they choose, and I’m convinced that persona is always a choice, a product of a negotiation, if not an altogether conscious one. Misch goes further,
Still, even false personas provide no cloak of ethical invisibility – no one claims they can say anything on stage (like “Let’s kill all the Jews”[;] which would, of course, decimate the ranks of comedians) because it isn’t “really them.”
Even comedy has limits, and my project is to identify what those are because I believe they reveal important facts about not just comedy, but about all speech.
Misch used the example (I’ve talked about previously) of Bill Maher using the N-word, and addition of, “It’s a joke.” Misch notes,
But they knew it was a joke; they reacted because it was offensive. Something being a joke doesn’t buy you that ethical-invisibility cloak.
That’s what this article is really about: Maher. The C.K. joke was a throwback. He’s doing an old academic trick that I’ve done several times on this blog: “This current event makes me think of my previous work… Let me dust that off for you here.”
However, Maher’s failed joke only relied on his language, not his persona, so Misch can only be talking about Louis C.K. when he summarizes,
Fake authenticity is fine if used in the service of a comic’s actual world-view, but not just to make an “edgy” joke work; that, I’d argue, is deceptive to the comic’s fans and destructive to his persona. If standups ask audiences to make a leap of faith based on a premise, they have to accept that audiences may look back after they leap. (Risking serious neck injury.)
Again, not sure if I agree here: Carlos Mencia, Larry the Cable Guy; I’m not sure these guys – especially in their early work – will own the world-view they present. They do want to “have their cake and eat it too,” although I’ll agree that they can’t. Their fake personas are deceptive to their fans, but it doesn’t seem to have impacted their careers that much.
Summary
I had to dig a bit to interpret what Misch was going for in the article, and I have to say I don’t always agree.
- Yes, jokes have to be believable, but not truthful per se.
- Yes, audiences grant some leeway in order to “get” the jokes.
- No, there’s not just one truth that a joke reveals, but multiple. And the comic doesn’t necessarily get to decide on what all of them are.
- Yes, personas might range from out-and-out characters, to somewhat slippery versions of a real person, and all comics probably are somewhere on the spectrum, despite their claims.
- There probably are differences between comics who try to make personal observations and those seeking to do social commentary and cultural critique, but in practice I’m not sure those terms are so far apart. That decision is really up to the audience.
- Yes, comics are responsible for the effects of their jokes, and therefore should be a bit careful and thoughtful in crafting them.
- I agree that fake authenticity used exclusively to make an “edgy” joke work is bad, but in my world, jokes aren’t that simple. Though I wish it would play out that people who do this are shooting themselves in the foot, it doesn’t seem to work that way – perhaps because, again, truths are multiple and the audience gets to decide.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?
References:
Lyotard, Jean François. The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge. Trans. Geoff Bennington and Brian Massumi. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota, 1984/2002.
—. The Différend. Trans. George Van Den Abeele. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota, 1988.
Wilson, Nathan. Was That Supposed to be Funny? A Rhetorical Analysis of Politics, Problems and Contradictions in Contemporary Stand-Up Comedy. Dissertation in partial completion of the Ph.D. August, 2008.
