The Critical Comic

Humor Theories/Stand-Up Comedy/Theories About Jokes

Parodic Satire

Posted on July 22, 2017 by nwilson

I need to continue with Lewis Black’s 2006 Grammy nominated HBO special, Red, White and Screwed. Black meanders through several topical and social bits, eventually coming to the following:

We have no energy policy, you know? None whatsoever. We still don’t have a good one, it’s ridiculous. And if you ask… We’re not going to have solar energy in my lifetime, you know? A few people have it, but it’s something we should all have, it’s ridiculous. I’ll take no flying cars, but solar energy? And if you ask your congressman why, he’ll say, [With his eyes crossed, a slightly slack-jawed expression and clutching at himself for emphasis] “‘Cause it’s hard. It’s really, really hard. Makes me wanna go poopy. You wanna know why we don’t have solar energy? Because the sun goes away each day, and it doesn’t tell us where it’s going.”

I want to continue to use this example to point out some of the problems with how parody is currently used, especially in terms of its assumed ties to satire.

Agenda Setting

Gary Saul Morson notes parody’s ironic nature (though he does not name it as such), stating that parody (even when satiric) always grants credit to the work it attempts to discredit; that one must first assert that the text is worthy of notice before it can be ridiculed–we must put it on the agenda.

In this respect, the parody always lends credibility to the original, if we haven’t heard of the original, we may seek it out, and it thus becomes more famous. This might greatly hamstring our ability to critique an argument by parodying it, as we’re only calling more attention to the original. In the above example, Black raises awareness of the energy policy, and the governmental difficulty in trying to implement it.

Shallow parody

Also, as Gring-Pemble and Watson note of shallow satire, Morson states that shallow parody or faint criticism may give the impression that “no more fundamental criticism could have been made” (73), leaving the original work intact (if not augmented) – and it may be difficult to determine in advance what audiences will designate as shallow.

For instance, though Black may make us more aware of the problem, we may know that the wheels of legislation are slow, and even good congress members are paralyzed by special interests, riders and the like – that it is “hard.” As such, we may read Black’s infantilization as an oversimplification of a very complex problem. Thus, parodic satire runs the risk of further bolstering the original speaker and/or text, rather than refuting them.

Simple negation

Further, for followers of the Situationists and Guy Debord, parody (and irony) errs on the side of too much determination. This comes from the translation of parody, mentioned previously, as “against the song,” which, as in the case of irony is read as direct opposition, as opposed to merely supplementation.

This conception makes the parody a replacement (if not a negation) of a primary text or speaker by the secondary text or speaker. For authors with this interpretation, irony and parody must always serve as a negation of the primary text, rather than retaining the possibility of a celebratory–or any other–function (for more on other functions of parody see Rose).

Détournement

Parody and irony would seem on face to accomplish the Situationists’ goal of détournement, the detour, diversion, hijacking, corruption or misappropriation of the capitalist spectacle enacted to bring about its demise–in short, a vested political act with some humorous potential.

However, Christine Harold explains that the Situationists reject parody as a persuasive strategy because its ironic, “double-voiced” structure simply effects a negation that “maintain[s], rather than unsettles, audiences’ purchase on the truth” (192). Parody cannot be détournement precisely because, for Situationists, parody maintains the intentions and investments of the author as a negation of the original text. While parody may serve as a repurposing of the spectacle, it still relies on the spectacle to further a message and thus does nothing to destroy the spectacle form itself. In other words, parody for these authors maintains a reliance on the existing system of litige to which they are very much opposed.

In the Lewis Black example, we can still see a reliance on elected officials–if we voted in people who weren’t incompetent…. There’s also a reliance on arguments made by our representatives within Congress, as opposed to political revolution or anarchy, or some other system. Black isn’t making arguments about changing the system, he’s just complaining about the people in it.

Summary

Some would say the problem here is I’m quoting scholars interested in arguments, and applying their theories to comics, who don’t necessarily have (and who actively claim they don’t have) an argument. However, to my mind, that points out the problems with these theories. If they don’t apply in all cases, then they don’t really explain the phenomenon. My major assumption in this project (as a whole) is that if we can pin down what comics can do through stand-up, then we have a rough estimate of what a bona fide speaker can be expected to achieve.

In relying on models from Aristotelian and classical rhetoric, we rely on a system of litige that would tether irony and parody to satire, to an authorial intent of ridicule, correction or censure:

The parody always calls attention to the primary statement or source, which may make that statement or source more famous.
The critique may not cut deep enough, thus the primary speaker remains unharmed, if not better off.
The second speaker or utterance must always critique or negate the original, it can’t do anything else.
Finally, because it works within a system, it doesn’t challenge the system itself.

While such a conception can be useful for a bona fide speaker constructing bona fide arguments–in helping the audience to “get it”–it in no way necessitates the reader accept the argument as such. It’s not as if audiences are required to read an argument in a particular way, and their laughter doesn’t signal agreement, they could be fake laughing or guffawing. This is what we learn when we try to apply these theories to comics, who are unreliable narrators.

Further, as articles on “outlaw rhetorics” attempt to show, forcing people to conform to conventional standards is weighted to favor elite, white, patriarchal heteronormativity, predicated on a level of social attainment that many disenfranchised groups would find difficult, when not unsavory, to achieve (Sloop and Ono).

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

References:

Black, Lewis. Lewis Black: Red, White and Screwed. New York: Home Box Office. Original air date: 10 June, 2006, 10pm EST. Rebroadcast 19 October, 2007, 9pm CST.

Debord, Guy. The Society of the Spectacle. Trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith. New York: Zone, 1994.

Gring-Pemble, Lisa and Martha Solomon Watson. “The Rhetorical Limits of Satire: An Analysis of James Finn Garner’s Politically Correct Bedtime Stories.” Quarterly Journal of Speech 89.2 (2003): 132-53.

Harold, Christine. “Pranking Rhetoric: ‘Culture Jamming’ as Media Activism.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 21.3 (2004): 189-211.

Morson, Gary Saul. “Parody, History, and Metaparody.” Rethinking Bakhtin: Extensions and Challenges. Eds. G.S. Morson and Caryl Emerson. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1989. 63-86.

Rose, Margaret A. Parody: Ancient, Modern, and Postmodern. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University, 1993.

Sloop, John M. and Kent A. Ono. “Out-law Discourse: The Critical Politics of Material Judgment.” Philosophy and Rhetoric 30 (1997): 50-69.

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.

Humor Theories/Stand-Up Comedy/Theories About Jokes

Parody

Posted on July 21, 2017 by nwilson

Two voices

Parody is another form of humor that is frequently conflated with verbal irony. In Gary Saul Morson’s read of Mikhail Bakhtin, parody is distinguished from irony by the inclusion of a “double-voiced word,” or an “utterance that [is] designed to be interpreted as the expression of two speakers,” the primary speaker and the parodist (65).

This definition is similar to the common understanding of verbal irony in that the ironist also is expressing two utterances, one stated and one (potentially) intended; however, the distinction seems to lie in parody’s recognition of a physical and/or temporal separation between the original speaker and an imposter (they parodist must always follow the original), and we can note that the latter references the former.

Of course, this idea of “an imposter who references the original” opens up a can of worms, which I hope to parse out soon. Namely: What happens when a speaker parodies her/himself? What should we call it when a speaker establishes a generic persona that doesn’t reference any specific speaker/agent – can you truly parody a “type”? Or is the idea of “type” itself a parody? Can/should we posit that any speaker is ever bona fide, original or arché, thus relegating all else to copies (mimesis)? Look for more on this soon.

Copies

In any case, that is how parody differentiates itself from irony: by a reliance on mimesis – impersonation or copying an original person or text, at least in form (the language they use and ways they express themselves).

Disagreement

Moreover, it is a disagreement between the two speakers – some have translated parody as “against the song” – and it is the second speaker who expects to gain our support, who has the authority. Thus, like irony, parody is thought to involve a replacement (if not a negation) of a primary text by the secondary, especially when used for the purpose of satire.

However, others read parody, especially in its humorous forms as “beside the song,” in which case it doesn’t oppose the original in any meaningful way. I think of Weird Al Yankovic’s “Eat It” parody of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”; the two texts were parallel in ways that were witty and thus humorous, but they were not in direct opposition. Both versions can exist side-by-side, without conflict; in fact, the one supports or supplements the other.

Signaling parody

Also like verbal irony, comics signal to the audience that statements are parodic through techniques such as exaggeration or understatement of foolish behaviors. For example they can overact or overreact, or they can strangely not react. These and other techniques produce incongruity between the original and the copy.

In a previous example, which I’m sure you’re tiring of quickly, when Bill Maher quotes “people” and then Bush in the first and third paragraphs, these are thus not parody, but mimesis; they are mimicries of the public and President Bush, respectively, but they contain no secondary expression – so we can’t use it. Thus, as an example of parody used for satirical purposes, I move to Lewis Black.

Lewis Black

Comedian, actor and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart correspondent Lewis Black has risen in popularity in recent years. Black received the “Best Male Stand-Up” award from the American Comedy Awards in 2001. In 2004, he was recognized by the Pollstar Awards and garnered his first Grammy nomination for his comedy tour, Rules of Enragement (washingtonpost.com). His book, Nothing’s Sacred, debuted on The New York Times Bestseller List in 2005. His HBO performance, Red, White and Screwed gained him a second Grammy nomination in 2006, and he won the award for Best Comedy Album in 2007 for The Carnegie Hall Performance. Since then, he won again in 2011 with Stark Raving Black, and was nominated again in 2013 for In God We Rust.

In an interview with Neal Conan on National Public Radio, Black describes himself as a ‘social’ (or perhaps ‘topical’) comic, not a political comic, because he draws material from whatever is in the news that excites him, from Superbowl half-time performances to the weather. However, he does discuss partisan politics and governmental policy, and this has not gone unnoticed.

In Red, White and Screwed, Black meanders through several topical and social bits, eventually coming to the following:

We have no energy policy, you know? None whatsoever. We still don’t have a good one, it’s ridiculous. And if you ask… We’re not going to have solar energy in my lifetime, you know? A few people have it, but it’s something we should all have, it’s ridiculous. I’ll take no flying cars, but solar energy? And if you ask your congressman why, he’ll say, [With his eyes crossed, a slightly slack-jawed expression and clutching at himself for emphasis] “‘Cause it’s hard. It’s really, really hard. Makes me wanna go poopy. You wanna know why we don’t have solar energy? Because the sun goes away each day, and it doesn’t tell us where it’s going.”

Black sets up his parodic statements as satirical. He states outright that solar energy is something we (American scientists) should have accomplished by now, and something the government should be pushing.

When he actually depicts a congressman, Black’s mannerisms (slightly swaying, face slack, hunching and grabbing himself), speech patterns (use of the term “poopy”) and rationality become that of a child, if not someone mentally challenged. In this parody, the generic politician is infantilized, portrayed as incapable of action and thereby made the object of ridicule. However, like ironic satire, even if one accepts that the speaker’s intention is ridicule, it may not be effective as I’ll argue tomorrow.

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

References:

Black, Lewis. Lewis Black: Red, White and Screwed. New York: Home Box Office. Original air date: 10 June, 2006, 10pm EST. Rebroadcast 19 October, 2007, 9pm CST.

Rose, Margaret A. Parody: Ancient, Modern, and Postmodern. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University, 1993.

Washingtonpost.com. “Stand-Up Man: Caustic and Cranky.” Washingtonpost.com 7 June, 2006. Retrieved 21 December, 2007.

Cases and Current Events/Comics Talking Shop/Stand-Up Comedy

Ron White on Entertaining

Posted on July 21, 2017 by nwilson

Just a quick one, so I’ll pair it with another “theory-theory” piece.

In an interview with Robert DiGiacomo of Atlanticcityweekly.com (7/18/2017), Ron White talks briefly about doing political comedy.

Q: What’s it like doing comedy in the age of Trump?

A: It was my conscious decision to just do a performance and not get on a soapbox about my political views. I felt like I owed it to my fans who pay to see me in these very tumultuous times to make them laugh. My fans are dead-split in the middle, and I’m wrong all the time. I don’t pretend I know something you don’t know.

Q: So no Trump jokes for you?

A: I did a couple of things that were just funny — easy stuff — as far as Trump-bashing. That’s really low-hanging fruit, and I think my fans appreciate it. I can make them laugh as hard as they want and as long as I want to do it and that’s what they paid for.

Here, we see the all too common view that the comic “makes [an audience] laugh,” that they are objects that he acts upon, and he is in control.

White also expresses the view that the comic’s main goal (their intention) is to get that laugh – “that’s what they paid for.” He’s not even trying to do anything more.

Cases and Current Events/Comics Talking Shop/Stand-Up Comedy

Lynne Parker and Comic Frames

Posted on July 20, 2017 by nwilson

In an interview with Hannah Williams of Backstage.com (7/13/2017), producer Lynne Parker says a few interesting things about stand-up and humor more generally.

On being funny

Parker is asked,

What makes a funny woman?
Much the same as for a funny man: the ability to laugh at yourself, not take yourself too seriously and translate that into how you communicate and relate to the world around you. I believe that everybody has the ability to ‘be funny’ and it’s recognizing how you can use this in everyday life or to entertain.

This answer seems to resonate with something I haven’t yet introduced here: Kenneth Burke’s notion of the comic frame.

Burke’s comic frame

Frames are generally understood as ways of seeing the world, our particular tint of sunglasses that color everything we see. Theoretically, a frame both highlights the importance of the picture it holds, while simultaneously containing (or limiting) it. We take more notice of things that are framed, but we see them in a particular light, frame of reference, etc.

Burke first talks about the comic (vs. tragic, satirical, grotesque or transitional) frame in his book, Attitudes Towards History (1937). He says, that humans

[C]an go no further than in picturing people not as vicious, but as mistaken. When you add that people are necessarily mistaken, that all people are exposed to situations in which they must act as fools, that every insight contains its own special kind of blindness, you complete the comic circle, returning again to the lesson of humility that underlies great tragedy (41).

A person applying the comic frame doesn’t take themselves too seriously. We believe that we (and everyone else) is good, but also know that we are flawed. Additionally, in a sense, to adopt the comic frame is to recognize the flaws of frames in general, and that recognition can breed new understandings. So when we do things that are regrettable, we are more prone to cast ourselves as fools and laugh than to cast ourselves as oppressors and beat ourselves up, and that’s comedy. And if we’re truly comic, we grant that leniency to others as well.

Thus, what Parker is saying is not just that comics create personas and characters as vessels for the humor (though she says that too), but it’s deeper than that – comics have to relate to the world with humility, which breeds compassion toward and forgiveness of others.

While other comics have said something similar, it’s still a pretty rare view, and it’s perhaps even more rare to see the comic frame truly applied. A lot of comics are self-involved blowhards. I’ll look for more good examples.

On audiences

Parker also treats the audience as people with whom the comic has a relationship,

It’s all about watching, listening and active engagement even though it appears very solitary. Your main relationship is with the audience if you are a solo act, and learning to ‘read the room’ is also a wonderful way to improve your performance as an actor, singer, musician, or public speaker.

In terms of what I’ve discussed before, she seems to be using more of a “lover” model – it’s a relationship that has to develop through active participation.

The current boom

Parker, as with Elahe Izadi and Mike Birbiglia, sees stand-up as becoming more popular, but fears a bust is coming:

You can see comedy any night of the week for free which is fine as long as we can still persuade people to pay for the good stuff. I am concerned that stand up comedy can be devalued….

The problem is that the free stuff isn’t as good, but people might not know that, and as Birbiglia warned, that undermines the whole system of demand.

Parker also thinks stand-up is growing more diverse:

We have a lot of openly gay performers who can talk about things that relate to them and women are ‘allowed’ to talk more freely about their bodies, periods, sex, and previously taboo subjects. It’s more open, inclusive and honest.

These are all good things, to a point, but I’ve already pointed out Izadi’s fears of what comes next: That in an open and democratic field, comics (and audiences) can get lost in a sea of bad comedy, or relegated to niches where they don’t reach new and diverse audiences, which tends to breed less accessible (and therefore bad) comedy.

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

References:

Burke, Kenneth. Attitudes Toward History. Berkeley: University of California, 1937/1984.

Cases and Current Events/Comics Talking Shop/Stand-Up Comedy

Elahe Izadi on the Benefits and Evils of Technology

Posted on July 19, 2017 by nwilson

When I teach courses on media theory, I like to point out that whenever a new technology appears, there are some that hail it as the thing that will finally spark an information revolution that will lead us to Utopia. Others hail it as the end of civilization itself. The article by Elahe Izadi for the Washington Post (7/13/2017), discusses both sides, so we’ll start from the top:

The wonders of technology

Open and democratic

Michael Che expressed that he felt like nowadays everybody is a comedian, but Ilana Glazer notes, “Anybody could be a comedian and everybody could be a comedian.” Izadi adds, that this is because the internet is free and open to all.

Stand-up comics once vied for limited TV airtime. Now they vie to be noticed on the limitless Internet, where they can tell jokes and upload videos instantly.

“The democratization of the Internet has kind of sped things up,” says [Comedy Central executive, Steve] Raizes. “That’s kind of a whole new path in. . . . It used to take people 10 years to kind of go through this.

Control of voice

Abbi Jacobson of Broad City, which started as a Web series, says that the internet, “gives content creators control to make exactly what they want to do with their voice.”

This has to some extent always been true of stand-up:

“There’s no editor between me and the audience. I direct, produce, writing — I’m everything in that medium,” [T.J.] Miller says. “So if I f— up and tonight doesn’t go well, or if people don’t like how I’ve decided to talk about it, that is wholly and completely on me.”

Less layers of red-tape, corporate lawyers, financial backers and censors will always free up an artist – and that’s always been the benefit of stand-up. Just look at what happens to a comic’s act when they get their own sitcom: Tim Allen, Roseanne Barr and company were watered down and reduced to caricatures and catchphrases. It wasn’t until Seinfeld that we started to see something more three-dimensional, and he had to break the model to do it.

True, there’s some censoring that happens in stand-up (especially before your set is televised). But while some clubs don’t want you to “work blue,” and if the audience revolts, you might not get an invite back, if you’re killing, there aren’t a lot of limits on what you can do. However, in the internet model, as Izadi notes,

Social media “cut out the middleman” and let comedians reach audiences directly — which is especially important when you first start in comedy and bookers control whether you can play their clubs, says [Ron] Funches.

“A lot of times they’re basing it off of comedy that they liked in the past, friends that they liked,” says Funches. “So if you’re anything different or unique, they’re like, ‘Oh, I don’t know what this is. This isn’t what I think comedy is.’”

[Phoebe] Robinson, who co-hosts WNYC’s “2 Dope Queens” podcast, says, “You can be more in charge of your destiny, rather than, ‘I hope someone will cast me as something.’ ”

Yes, this sounds like a good thing, but it hints at a darker side, which I’ll come to momentarily.

Broadening the scope

This democratization has opened the field up beyond comics who are stereotypical: usually white or Jewish, middle class men, in dinner jackets doing one-liners. Ok, that was prior to the 1950’s, but even with the storytelling and therapy sets of the 1970’s and 80’s, we still see a lot of white or Jewish, middle class men, and the scope of what was considered “stand-up proper” was pretty limited. Now, however,

“The glacier of comedy is moving much faster now and bringing a lot of what would have been viewed as experimental,” [Brian Volk-Weiss, president of Comedy Dynamics] says. “I’ll see some weird thing at the back of a laundromat and it has its own show two years later.”

The examples here abound: Maria Bamford, Ron Fuches, Aziz Ansari, Hasan Minhaj. I’ve written about how Minhaj’s Ted-talk like format has created quite a bit of buzz lately.

Breaking stereotypes

Izadi makes another great point:

More platforms also means less boxing-in of comics based on their race, gender or sexual orientation. They can be known more as individuals than as types.

“We’re in a place now where just even as a black comedian you don’t have to be thought to be ‘urban.’ You can just be a comedian,” says Roy Wood Jr. “You could be as unique as Tig Notaro or a Jerrod Carmichael and still have an audience and still have a place in the comedy zeitgeist.”

Yes, when it’s left to bookers and producers, we get stereotypical humor from people who fit the mold, and I, for one, am really tired of seeing comics conform to their type. It’s easy to be who the audience wants us to be. It’s much harder – but much more rewarding – to get them to accept us for who we want to be. But, as I argue, creating a persona is always a negotiation.

Can lead to bigger things

Yes, there is a lot of possibility and a lot of good things can happen for people who otherwise wouldn’t get a shot. Izadi notes,

Web series and podcasts can help outlets such as Comedy Central and HBO “get more invested into talent if they can see that you can create your own thing,” says [Phoebe] Robinson

Increasingly, those comics are getting discovered on — and paid by — Netflix.

A comic can go from struggling to sell 50 tickets to, within months of a Netflix special, selling 4,000, says Volk-Weiss, the comedy producer.

So this is where internet buzz translates into actual capital, dollars in the comic’s pocket.

Other benefits

Increased audience access equals lasting relevance

Specials remain on Netflix forever, and that “is awesome for a comedy fan and a comedian,” says Che. “It stays relevant. It doesn’t just go away.”

Having specials that are always just a few clicks away makes it easier to watch, encouraging more people to enjoy it. See that a comic is coming to town? Watch their special and decide if you want to buy a ticket.

Zipping and zapping change the format

The on-demand, commercial-free nature of Netflix also gives comedy more flexibility, says Lisa Nishimura, the company’s vice president of original documentary and comedy programming. Special lengths can vary. Viewers can start, stop and re-watch them whenever they want.

Media theorists refer to this ability to move freely through the content as zipping and zapping – usually we do it to avoid commercials, but we also jump to a scene, or change the show entirely.

It’s also a well-worn theory in media studies that when new media emerge, they tend to conform to the norms of previous media – radio programs resembled concerts, books and theater, television programs resembled, theater and visual representations of radio, etc. Our current model of the 30 minute program or the 60 minute program (with commercial breaks) is a product of television. However, when the new media truly come into their own, they break free of previous models, and with the DVR’s, internet, zipping and zapping, the idea of the 20 minute or 45 minute (plus commercials) set can go the way of the dodo.

Niche audiences

Comics are also able to find a niche, a marketing strategy that only becomes more and more important as platforms go global. Izadi notes,

And Netflix’s algorithm gives customized suggestions at ideal times, based on past viewing habits.

“You’re going to be constantly introduced to new audiences and potential new fans,” says Nishimura. “I think that’s the thing comics are looking for the most, is to sort of find their people.”

Whereas I’ve talked about how Jay Leno and others of the Late Night stand-up crowd came up trying to appeal to as broad an audience as possible, Comics are already relying on this, like Rory Scovel with what I’ve called his “Lenny Bruce Opening.”

But is this necessarily a good thing? Shouldn’t comics be trying to please a lot of people, to be thought to be funny by as many people as possible? What’s the danger of doing something smaller. Well, let’s list them.

The death of stand-up society

As I said, for every pro that will lead us to Utopia, there’s a con that will lead to Dystopia.

Lost in the clutter

While the field seems open and democratic, it is perhaps too much so; a person can get lost in the sea of possibilities. Izadi notes,

How can you be noticed in such a crowded field? If so many people have a special, is it special anymore?

While Jacobson touted the benefits to authorial control offered by the internet, she also cautions, “You still have to do a lot of work to get it seen and heard and exposure.” If there are so many specials to watch, and the audience has limited time, wouldn’t they gravitate to a comic they know they like? How does a new comic break in?

Popularity is a double-edged sword

Izadi also notes,

The size of your social media following can help get you, or cost you, a gig — and is being good at Twitter the same as being good on stage, anyway?

So if you’re lost in a sea of people similarly trying to “make it,” it gets harder and harder to distinguish yourself.

Less time to develop

Izadi notes that stand-up is “a craft that requires failing in public to get good.” And in the era of the internet, we don’t necessarily get the chance.

Anyone can film and upload a comic’s set, which makes established performers wary. Rock walked out of a New York open mic because audience members were recording. Hart required seated Clusterfest audience members to lock up their phones in magnetic pouches.

This is true even of open mic’ers; we can have our routines made public and potentially stolen – if only to boost someone else’s internet following – before we see dollar one. That brings up the next point:

Loss of control

Joanne Gilbert and others have argued that stand-up comedy is an organic, living thing when performed in front of a live audience. However, once a bit goes through mass media, it becomes fixed, static, and can be pulled out of context and misused. Izadi mentions this effect too:

And a bit can take on a life of its own — such as a 2014 Buress joke about Bill Cosby filmed by someone in the crowd, or a 2012 Daniel Tosh rape joke aimed at a female audience member who then blogged about the experience.

While Buress’ joke provoked social and legal action against Cosby, Tosh’s joke provoked outrage and action against him, which has lead to critical reinterpretation, like the one by David Misch that I wrote about recently.

No filter often leads to worse comedy

I watched a set by a couple of internet sensations who recently sold out our local Improv to re-enact their online show: a bunch of dick jokes and pantomimed sex acts that would never sell at an open mic, let alone get booked [without the lure of a guaranteed crowd]. This points out the benefit of having bookers, critics and some level of control over content: it weeds out the bad comics.

Birbiglia talks about how, “There’s even a comic in Brazil who found “My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend” [his 2013 special] on Netflix and now pays a license fee to perform it.” Performing someone else’s act? That’s the epitome of hack. Patton Oswalt has called out at least one comedian for stealing one of his bits whole cloth.

We had a guy like this in Kansas City who stole Sam Kinison’s name and persona, and some of his jokes as well. Yes, I miss the man’s comic genius, but I respect that genius from Kinison because I know how much time and effort it takes to develop that, both the persona and the jokes. Stealing either is sacrilege. Paying to do it may make it legal, but it doesn’t make it ok.

Niches create stagnant backwaters

The idea that comics don’t have to please everyone, that they can “find their people,” can lead to stagnation on two fronts: the comic and the audience.

Stagnant comics

First off, if comics are just telling jokes to a group of audience members that enjoys a particular type, it creates an echo chamber. The audience has selected the comic based on what they want, and the comic is urged to continue to give them exactly that and nothing else. This is the heart of Michael Che’s comments that:

It just feels like audiences want somebody who will get up there and say what they’ve already been thinking, as opposed to saying something they’ve never thought of before.

While Che mentions being on “the right side of history,” he also is implying that the people judging may not know what that is. Further, if the audiences don’t want it, then the comic doesn’t have to provide it, so trying to think of something novel is no longer even a goal of the niche comic.

Stagnant audiences

I don’t believe that all audiences only want to be re-served what they’ve enjoyed in the past, but this is what some Media theorists argue that the automation of Netflix and other digital systems are pushing us toward: that in creating a customized profile in order to better market to you, companies limit you as an audience member. You aren’t encouraged to encounter new things that you might enjoy more. You can still find it, if you take the initiative and do an independent search, but it’s not popping up in your feed on its own.

Eventually, people get tired of the same thing, and unless they’re offered something new, they may just decide to stop watching stand-up, and then comes the bust.

Bad comedy

Bad comedy was what Birbiglia said happened in the 80’s that brought about a bust, and he’s prepared for it to happen again.

It’s not clear whether this boom will by followed by a bust — “there’s more talented comedians than there are slots, still,” says Funches.

But plenty of performers are preparing for worst-case scenarios.

“I’m a pessimistic person, so I’m already thinking about when it’ll end,” says Birbiglia. “But it won’t end for me because I’ve always been doing the same thing. I’ve been doing the same thing since 1997. I was in the recession, I’m in the boom, I’ll be in the next recession. I just love doing comedy.”

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

Comics Talking Shop

Elahe Izadi on the Current Stand-Up Comedy Boom

Posted on July 18, 2017 by nwilson

Elahe Izadi, in an article for the Washington Post (7/13/2017), talks about the current “stand-up comedy boom.”

Never before has so much original material been this easy to access and been consumed by this many people. Never before has the talent pool of comedians been this deep, and in format, voice and material, this diverse.

And comedy’s cultural resonance deepens with rapid technological change, increasing societal divisions and a dizzying news cycle.

While I highly recommend reading her article, I’d like to highlight certain passages to bring out some interesting points about humor: its power, what stand-up’s audience is, her history lesson and the rise of the current boom, and her take on both the wonders of technology and the breaking of society.

The power of humor

Comedy Central executive, Steve Raizes, believes that humor is a vital part of anyone’s identity or persona (and Erving Goffman says we all have a persona, an “on-stage” self).

People really define themselves, both in real life but also on social media, through their sense of humor. That’s how you portray yourself publicly and how people get to know you.

Michael Che adds,

It feels like everybody’s a comedian. Even news articles are written with a humorous twist and the headline is funny.

This has been true for quite some time, as humor is recognized as a way to make a message more palatable. Others, like Philip Stamato of Splitsider.com argue that humor might be a necessity in the current political news climate.

What stand-up is

Audience

For Dave Chappelle,

It seems like one of the reasons comedy is doing so well has to do with the nature of the genre. We engage the audience, and in this digital world, it always works best live. It feels good to just sit in a room and talk to people and be spoken to and laugh, and validate or invalidate each other’s feelings.

So in terms of things I’ve discussed before, Chappelle casts the audience’s role as voters: “validating and invalidating,” voting yay or nay.

Michael Che has a slightly different take on the current state of affairs,

People are more holding comedians accountable, not for being funny, but for being on the right side of history. It just feels like audiences want somebody who will get up there and say what they’ve already been thinking, as opposed to saying something they’ve never thought of before.

This is, again, the audience and comic validating each other’s feelings, but Che makes it seem like a one-way exchange: the audience wants their feelings validated, not to validate the comic’s, and especially not if the material is politically or socially “wrong.”

This doesn’t seem, on face, true. Audience members have always become outraged, booed, heckled, or just left. Perhaps the range of topics where these “votes” are the results has increased as people become more self-aware, but it also depends on the joke; some comics seem to be able to “get away with it.” If audiences are holding comics accountable, it’s because stand-up comedy is powerful; stand-up comedy matters.

Comics

Chappelle also says, “But we’re also bombarded with information, and comics are great distillers of information.” This is his role for the comic; to feed us information, to tell us what’s important and break it down into a manageable form. Izadi notes,

Comedy is being taken more seriously now. Top-billing stand-up comedians are treated as public intellectuals.

“Maybe even 10 years ago we weren’t respected as much as we are now,” Jim Jefferies says. “People almost are talking about comedy more than they’re performing it”

Indeed the whole view of comics has gotten a lot more serious, and as Che notes, comedians are being held accountable.

Serious

Chappelle says,

It’s a great time to be a comedian, artistically and professionally. There’s a lot of good people doing a lot of good, serious work. It’s funny to say you’re serious about comedy, but I think a lot of people are.

If I can tweak Chappelle’s intentions just a bit: there are a lot of people doing stand-up comedy that is meaningful, stand-up that matters, and comedians, critics and audiences are taking stand-up comedy a lot more seriously.

History lesson

Izadi talks about the recent history of stand-up:

Comedy has boomed before. While a handful of comics became cultural phenomena during the 1960s and ’70s, stand-up went full mainstream during the 1980s.

Mike Birbiglia says that in the 1980’s, “every hotel lounge had a comedy club, too” at least on Friday and Saturday nights. “There were hundreds of those across the country. Tons of people started doing stand-up comedy who were terrible, and that’s what leads to crashes.”

And boy, did it crash. The novelty of stand-up evaporated.

Izadi tells stories of comics who practiced their art in secret, like a cult or sex fetish. Birbiglia remembers that by 2003, maybe 10 comedians could sell out theaters.

Current boom

However, in 2003,

Comedy Central partnered with Live Nation for its first national tour featuring Lewis Black, [Dave] Attell and Mitch Hedberg. It was such a hit that all three comedians became theater acts on their own, Birbiglia says.

That was apparently the beginning of the current boom, although it seems odd that a single tour would mark such a cultural change.

The change seems legit, however. Izadi’s evidence is that

Now, “there’s now like 50 to 75 comedians, myself included, who sell out theaters,” Birbiglia says. “That’s a crazy phenomenon.”

Gabriel Iglesias, Bill Burr and Aziz Ansari [and we can add Louis C.K., Dane Cook and Amy Schumer] have sold out Madison Square Garden. Kevin Hart performed for 53,000 people at Philadelphia’s Lincoln Financial Field.

But George Carlin sold out the Garden in 1992; yes, that’s six to one, I’m just saying, it wasn’t unheard of. However, while big names can sell out large venues, most working comics take to the road, touring known comedy clubs, and these have increased as well:

For decades, some cities could only support one comedy club, and now they have multiple ones, [Brian Volk-Weiss, founder of comedy production and distribution company Comedy Dynamics,] notes.

More than just a new growth of clubs, there’s also been a increase in festivals, and they are increasing well attended. In 2016, the Kansas City comedy scene began a festival, in 2017, we have two. Izadi notes that, “In early June [2017], more than 45,000 people showed up at Clusterfest [San Francisco].”

There’s also been an increase in recorded specials,

Comedy Dynamics produced about five specials yearly less than a decade ago. Last year, they made 52, available on outlets such as Netflix, Seeso and Hulu.

Netflix has licensed stand-up since launching its streaming service in 2007, but it has doubled-down in recent years. In 2015, it released a dozen new specials. Last year, 19. This year? So far, an average of about one a week: 25.

This points out perhaps the biggest boon to stand-up comedy: the internet and streaming services, which I will address in a later post.

One more thing…

Izadi notes that we’re talking a lot more about the joke work, the writing and performance.

A cadre of podcasts featuring comics talking shop and devoted to dissecting the craft, such as Marc Maron’s “WTF,” have huge followings.

Jim Jefferies says, “I used to get asked to tell jokes, now I get asked, ‘How do you write a joke?’ ”

Critics writing about comedy the way they write about film brings added prestige to the genre, says [Phoebe] Robinson. Still, “it’s like watching a food show,” she adds. “You can watch it, but if you don’t do it, you don’t really understand the complexities of it.”

That is, after all, the purpose of this blog. Yes, this conversation is difficult to follow, especially when you’re chasing a pack of popular sources, who, in turn, are chasing their own tails, but it is rewarding (at least for me).

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

Comics Talking Shop

Ricky Gervais on Provoking Thought

Posted on July 17, 2017 by nwilson

In an interview with Larry Fitzmaurice of Vice.com (7/12/2017), Ricky Gervais has a lot to say about comedy and even people.

All the same?

Gervais says that his jokes do well internationally because,

I talk about big issues: war, religion, stupidity, intelligence, love, death. The people I talk about are world famous. There’s no difference in humor. We’re all the same underneath.

This point is disputable. Physical humor and scatological humor are both based in bodily function, and thus are common experiences that play well to international audiences. Look at the popularity of Mr. Bean. For a long time, Baywatch was the number one show internationally, because large breasted white women running in slow motion plays well in every country. This was followed by the variations of Idol (American, etc.), because singing and dance talent have also become – to some extent – standardized.

It’s kind of a chicken/egg debate: Does that international comedy you’re watching have scatological humor because that’s what passes for humor in that country, or are you able to watch it because they knew that would pass for humor globally – that’s probably how it got popular enough to hit your radar?

The question is, are people similar enough on the issues Gervais lists (war, religion, stupidity, intelligence, love, death) to laugh at his jokes? Maybe in Western culture. But it probably depends more on the joke, than the topic.

Humor takes thought

Counter to the common interpretation that laughs are unconscious, automatic – or at least knee-jerk – bodily responses to something universally funny, Gervais expresses a more enlightened view.

[W]hen it comes to what’s funny, comedy is an intellectual pursuit anyway.

So perhaps jokes are not universally funny, but instead we have to think about it, put it into a cultural context and then decide it’s funny. That sounds like a lot of work!

Actually, some scholars talk about mental shortcuts, pre-patterned or habitual responses. We circumvent the intellectual process by laughing at the same things we’ve always laughed at. We laugh because we recognize the structure of the joke, and the laugh should go here. Or we laugh because we are trying to impress the speaker.

But some of us are becoming more savvy consumers of humor. We don’t laugh as easily, especially when the topics are problematic. We can’t just laugh at fat people anymore, or the disabled, or people of color acting stupidly – the list is growing – unless it’s the right joke, that lets us laugh in the right way – so that we can laugh with them.

Clapter

Gervais also addresses Seth Meyers’ idea of “clapter,” responses that indicate agreement with the comic, but not necessarily humor. He says that’s not the response he’s going for:

I try to keep politics out of it. If you’re relying on people agreeing with you, then you’re losing something comically. I could spend an hour bashing Trump or Brexit, but I don’t think I should. What makes a difference is whether or not you’ve created a smart audience or a dumb audience. I could play to the wrong crowd in England just as easily as I could play the wrong crowd in America. I just try to do intelligent, thought-provoking comedy.

I didn’t like it in the 70s when comedians would come out and be racist—they were relying on like-minded people clapping because they’re racist too. I’ve played the right-wing, uneducated bore in a lot of my shows, and I don’t want to do that bit this time because I’ve realized half the world is actually like that.

He says something similar on Late Night with Seth Meyers (7/21/2017). This idea of intelligent, thought-provoking comedy is the driving force behind my project. It’s the idea that comedy at its best doesn’t just “make people laugh,” but encourages them to think.

The idea is that a comic can choose whether or not to play on knee-jerk, pre-patterned responses. Most comics consider such a reliance, by definition, “hacky,” but they don’t always get when they’re doing it. Sometimes they think they’re being “edgy” when they’re just invoking an automatic, recoil response from an audience. These types of humor would create a dumb audience.

On the other hand, if a comic can entice people to listen to an argument that they wouldn’t normally entertain, get them to laugh (for whatever reason) and at the same time actually make a valid point – an unexpected or witty connection or comparison, a savvy distinction or contrast, etc. – they can provoke thought. Maybe not always – hell, maybe not consistently – but sometimes, and all without sacrificing the audience’s goodwill and losing them. They’ve made the audience smarter.

On expectations

One thing open mic’ers lament is that we’re not “names,” speaking in a known comedy venue with our name in lights on the marquee. We strongly believe that having a recognizable name or at the very least, the name of the comedy club behind you lends a lot to the show – if nothing else, when people are familiar with you and your work, they can make an informed decision to opt in or out – and Gervais expresses this understanding:

There’s no real difference in terms of where I am in the world because they all come to see me, so they’re already my crowd.

Gervais is well aware that his previous popularity gives him a lot of room in which to work.

I always say that I know how lucky I am. I can get these people to come out to see me because The Office is shown in 90 countries—and Extras. They already know me. If it wasn’t for those shows, I wouldn’t have time in my life to build up a cult following to be this big in every country.

On the popularity of stand-up

In his last answer, Gervais talks about the rise of (and the academic in me says “cultural relevance of) stand-up:

There’s a perception that stand-up is becoming more popular again.
I see it, but it’s very different now, too. Traditionally, the stand-up scene was basically people getting their seven minutes wherever there was a couple of scouts from Letterman or The Simpsons. They wanted to get a writing job or their own sitcom. Now, there’s much more pride in just doing stand-up—there’s much more pride in it. Why do I want to get a little sitcom that might be canceled? I’m selling out in arenas here. There’s not much more pride in just being the biggest and best stand-up you can be.

I remember Jerry Seinfeld saying to me years ago, “Why are you doing films? Why are you doing TV? You’re a stand-up.” He didn’t understand that I like to do everything. Jerry thought stand-up, was the Holy Grail. I never saw that because it wasn’t in vogue, but now I do think he was right. There’s nothing more enjoyable than saying exactly what you think to 10,000 strangers every night. You do what you want. No one interferes. It’s the purest art form. It took me this long to appreciate it, and it took me this long to be good.

My first shows, I was pretty good—but now I think I’m really good. I’ve cracked it. I want to do another sitcom and another movie, but if I had to give something up, it probably would be everything else but stand-up. That’s why being a rock star is so appealing. When you’re an actor, you’re someone else every day—people love you when you’re someone else. You could be the biggest thing in a Marvel film, but no one cares about your next thing because you don’t have the rubber suit on. What they liked was the rubber suit. When you’re a rock star, you’re always you—on the stage, in the limo, throwing a TV out the window. It’s the same with a comedian. You’re not the same in real life as you are on the stage, but you know you are your person. Rock stars and comedians—they’re the superheroes. They’re already in their rubber suits.

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

Comics Talking Shop

Joe Stapleton on Spontaneity and Hecklers

Posted on July 16, 2017 by nwilson

In an interview with Paul Seaton of Pokernews.com (7/10/2017), Joe Stapleton had several things to say about stand-up:

It’s rehearsed

On Spontaneity in stand-up, Stapleton says:

Stand up is rehearsed. The goal is to make it sound unrehearsed and sound like it’s off the top of your head. I’m still working on that.

This once again refutes the idea that good comedy is spontaneous; most of us have it practiced to death.

Get on stage!

He makes a comparison between stand-up and poker:

It’s an evolution when it comes to stand-up. It’s similar to poker in a couple of ways. Your friends are also your competition and you’re secretly hoping that they’ll fail. Well, you might not want them to fail but you want to be the best person in the room. It’s also like poker in that a small sample size does you almost no good…. You need an almost infinite sample size in poker and that’s also the way your jokes grow and evolve. You’re always tweaking it. The really good stand-ups do five or six sets a week minimum. I do at most two a week.

To get better at stand-up, you have to do stand-up. Onstage. In front of as big an audience as possible. That can be difficult when you’re hitting open mics and your audience is just other comics, who aren’t really listening, just waiting for their time, but even that work is essential, as just going through the bit is helpful.

Hecklers

I still have to put up stuff on Hecklers, but we’ll get started with this: Stapleton tells a story of a guy who came out to see him:

This guy came to my show who was with three girls I knew from the show. They invited him off Tinder. First I was happy, it was another butt in a chair paying $20 to see me. However, about halfway through the show, he got stereotypically-British drunk and lost all control over the volume of his voice. All of the comics addressed him at some point and I was mortified. After the show he came up to me and said ‘Wasn’t that great?!’ I was like ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ I was trying my best not to yell at the kid, but he said ‘I provided so much more comedy, everyone got to make fun of me and I gave them so much more material. Wasn’t it great?’ I looked at him and was like ‘No! They had to take out material from their acts to waste time on you.’

Again, this situation came up because the guy thought that comedy is spontaneous, and that he was a participant in the show, when ideally (for the comic), the show is set and rehearsed – unless you’re doing crowd work, but then you’re asking for it.

Stapleton continues:

I’ve had weird situations where poker fans have turned up and heckled me. They’re doing it from a good place, but they’re also being obnoxious and want attention from me and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to destroy a fan, but it’s not an interactive show. OK, it sort of is, because I want to make you laugh, but that’s it. Come in and shut up but not too much, still laugh. And don’t laugh too weird, either, just a normal laugh. Also, don’t smile. Actually, laugh verbally, then stop while I’m telling my next joke. Applause breaks are fine.

This again recognizes that the fans think they’re helping, but they’re not. Stapleton doesn’t view them as active participants in the show – the audience is just there to be objects that he “makes laugh,” that’s their role, to receive the humor from him.

Problems of addressing hecklers

What ends up happening is that I don’t know how to address it. If you address a heckler you can ruin the mood. But when an audience know that you can hear the heckler but you aren’t addressing them, they lose respect for you. I’m not very good yet at that delicate balance between not wanting to put someone down and dealing with it.

Aye, there’s the rub. Addressing the heckler interrupts the act, which can change the momentum and the audience’s mood, ruining the rapport you’ve tried to build. However, not addressing the heckler can do the same thing. If the person is really heckling and if a large portion of the audience can hear them.

I saw a comic just the other night address a guy who wasn’t even heckling, just talking loud in the back of the showroom, and it totally ruined the mood. It was a bad situation because, where I was sitting, I couldn’t even hear the guy – and I suspect two-thirds of the audience were in the same boat – so this counter-attack just came out of nowhere in the middle of a bit.

The comic tried to recover, and eventually got back on track, but it was close to coming off the rails, and for no good reason – most of us couldn’t hear it and those who could knew that it had nothing to do with the act.

Summary

Stapleton’s view on spontaneity is fairly common: We’re super-prepared. He also reinforces that you need stage time to fully develop your act. He also introduces the heckler problem, and I will have a lot more to say about that.

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

Comics Talking Shop/Theories About Comics

Update: James Davis’ Interview with StarTribune.com

Posted on July 15, 2017 by nwilson

On reading the interview, I made some updates to Intentionality – where I talk about the idea that comics are first and foremost trying to get a laugh on-stage. James Davis seems to have a more nuanced take than some comics.

Update: In an interview with StarTribune.com (7/7/2017), Neal Justin asks Hood Adjacent star, James Davis, the following:

Q: So you’re willing to sacrifice a laugh or two to make a point?

A: The laugh is the most important thing. I never wanted to be a teacher or a preacher. I don’t want the audience ever thinking that they’re listening to Don Lemon or Anderson Cooper. But early in my career I was just telling jokes. I wouldn’t think about using them to send a message. But now, after studying comedians like Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, Jerry Seinfeld, I know how to talk about the society around me.

These comics seem to believe that they should be trying to be funny first and foremost, and if they can do it while talking about their society, that’s good, but it’s an after-effect.

Not that James thinks that comics have no power to change people’s minds. Referring to Hannibal Buress, who may have got people talking about Bill Cosby, James says,

Hannibal has reached a level of success where he probably hit more stages during the last campaign than Hillary Clinton did. And people listen to him after the show and pick up on his material on their cellphones. That’s power. I’m aware of it and I keep that in mind when I make decisions about jokes. I have to make sure people are laughing when I want them to laugh.

When you put it that way – about sheer exposure – how could a comic not have an effect? Still, there’s this idea that comics “don’t really mean any of it” that may create a (carnivalesque) space for both the humor to exist and for the audience to feel that they don’t have to do anything but laugh, and a common conception of laughter is that it doesn’t do anything.

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?

Cases and Current Events/Comics Talking Shop/Stand-Up Comedy

Misch on Personas, Truth and Ethics

Posted on July 14, 2017 by nwilson

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.