I make my Advanced Public Speaking students write and give a speech of apology for a public figure, so when we’re talking about comics giving apologies, we’re kind of in my wheelhouse. Maher’s on-air apologies on his show, the week after his N-word incident did a number of interesting things.
I’ll talk first in this post about his discussion of comics and comedy first, as that is my purpose for this blog, and you can decide if you want to read my next post on how Maher responded to the issues.
What comics do
In his interview with Michael Eric Dyson about his book on white privilege, Tears We Cannot Stop, Bill Maher talks more about his own “n-word” problem. Partially to explain it, Maher states that, “the comic mind goes to a weird place sometimes.” Later in the interview, Maher returns to this point,
But, I just don’t want to pretend this is more of a race thing than a comedian thing. Comedians are a special kind of monkey…. We are a trained thing that tries to get a laugh. That’s what we do. That’s all we are always thinking.
Maher then points out that he has transgressed in private and in public many times while trying to get a laugh, “because that’s what comedians are somehow wired to do. It’s like we always go – we wanna make those people laugh. And sometimes we transgress a sensitivity point.” He then discusses Kathy Griffin’s incident, and the similarity of that incident in that “she was going for a laugh, and I understand that; we sometimes do cross the line.”
Here Maher is stating the intentions of a comic, that their sole intention is to get a laugh, and they should be forgiven when they miss that goal. In this, he echoes John Limon’s model of absolute stand-up. Maher somewhat undermines this position when he references his previous apology:
But it doesn’t matter that it wasn’t said in malice – it wasn’t – if it brought back pain to people, and that’s why I apologized freely and I reiterate it tonight. And that’s sincere.
He realizes that the intentions don’t matter as much as the effects the attempt at humor produces.
Moreover, later in the interview, he softens further on this same point:
What bothered me about this was, it cost me a lot of political capital – I’ll use that term, even though I’m a comedian – but I’m a comedian who’s doing something a little different than most, which is – of course I’m trying to entertain and be popular, that’s my political capital, but at the same time – I’m saying things that are sometimes unpopular even with my own liberal group, which most people don’t. So I’m always, you know, aware of like, I’m willing to do that, I’m willing to spend political capital for a cause, or a view that I think needs to be out there. This wasn’t that. This was just a mistake.
Maher thus characterizes himself in a way similar to Kenny Sebastian’s social comedian. Maher realizes that he has political capital, and that it comes from his ability to entertain, but that nevertheless he can spend it on things he cares about. So here Maher admits that he doesn’t just “try to get a laugh,” sometimes he has a point, which means that we should be able to take him to task when his humor makes an unsatisfactory point – even if it’s just “a mistake.” He can’t hide behind his previous statement that, “Comedy is all comics are ever trying to do!” As Ice Cube points out,
I just don’t know sometimes is this a political show, or is this a show about jokes… – I understand the format, your guy says it’s a comedian’s show, but this to me is a political show.
His interpretation may be shared by many people, and Maher has to own that interpretation.
Breaking ground and crossing lines
Maher wants to pass it off as a one-time, bad reaction. He states,
Yes, it was wrong, and I own up to that. But it’s not as if I’ve made a career of this. You know. It’s not like I went out there last Friday and said, “Ooh, I’m going to break some new ground tonight.”
Two quotes from the section above also bear repeating: Maher’s remarks that “sometimes we transgress a sensitivity point,” and his discussion of Kathy Griffin’s incident, and the similarity of that incident in that “she was going for a laugh, and I understand that; we sometimes do cross the line.”
Dyson’s response is important, so I’ll quote it at length:
I think you’re absolutely right in terms of the comedic mind, you know that people would respond to that by saying, “But look, there are trigger points that even in comedy, lines that you should not cross,” … and when it comes to race, you know that. It’s not that I’m introducing a new concept to you, you understand that. But the reality is that there are so many people who are vulnerable out here, who are black people, brown people, red and yellow people who are vulnerable who don’t have the protection of a culture, so that their comedians might make jokes. Think about it…
Ice Cube adds,
I think you just have to not step on some of the political messages that you send with the joke, because some things just ain’t funny. You know what I mean? This is real right here, what we going through.
Dyson then gives an example from Larry David of Curb Your Enthusiasm, where “a black man comes up to him and says, ‘Hey, you my nigga.'” [Note, that’s the second time Dyson used a version of the word.] Larry wants to use the word, but doesn’t. Dyson says,
What he [David] understood was, that’s a line he can’t cross, and because he understands he can’t cross it, even his comedy has to be disciplined by it.
Summary
Comics like Maher know that they’re not just going for laughs, and they know they shouldn’t be above reproach. The idea of breaking new ground and crossing lines is inherent to humor [I’ll work up the theory side of this soon], but there are those, like Dyson, who believe that there are lines one cannot cross – even the court jester (or wise fool) could be beheaded if he were too insolent.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?
What do you think? Is humor a free space in which we can play with anything as long as we’re only trying for a laugh, or are some things too important to joke about?
The idea that we can influence people with words (rhetoric) depends on the notion that the speaker is who they appear to be and mean what they say. Scholars call this authorial fidelity, or that the speaker is bona fide.
Yet frequently comics pretend to be crazy, demented, deranged – or just a bit off. Think of Bobcat Goldthwait, Sam Kinison, or Emo Philips. We hear them and say, “That boy ain’t right!” and this creates a space for laughs.
Certain comics are awesome at this, like Stephen Colbert on The Colbert Report, a nearly flawless performance of right-wing conservatism that has just a tad too much edge to be bona fide. Similarly, Larry the Cable Guy presents a front of blue-collar (when not red-necked) buffoonery that is difficult to take on-face. Or we might look to Sarah Silverman’s image as a naïve (when not ignorant), self-absorbed, Jewish nice-girl who pushes in exactly the wrong direction just a few times too often. In each case, a great deal of humor comes from this discrepancy between construct or narrator and the author implied by the gaps in the text.
Narrators and Authors
The idea that this person might be as crazy as they seem is necessary for the humor, but we know it’s often a ruse. There’s a difference between the author – the person who wrote the jokes – and the narrator – the persona telling the jokes. A narrator is “an instrument, a construction or a device wielded by the author” (Abbott, 63), a vehicle for the comedy.
The author, for all intents and purposes, is the offstage person implied via the text, or in any case inferred by the audience (Booth). Some, like Erving Goffman, argue that we have onstage selves, and an offstage self. That while we might act differently in a classroom than out of it, or act differently in front of our grandma than we do in front of our friends, we have a real self that we are in private and show to select people. Others, following from the work of a Michel Foucault, argue that our actions and their implications are all anyone ever sees of us, so they’re all that matter. To quote Nolan’s Batman:
So there’s a space or gap between the two, and this creates possibilities for humor when the difference is noticeable, giving us two types of questionable narrators, unreliable and discordant, and comics can be either or both.
Unreliable Narrators
When there is a gap between verifiable [IRL] facts and statements of fact made by the narrator, we have a true unreliable narrator (Abbott; Scholes & Kellogg). This is when they tell us things that just aren’t true – couldn’t possibly be true. Like when Bobcat Goldthwait talks about swinging his date’s cat around by the tail, screaming “Got any more pets?” If we thought it really happened, we might be appalled, and then we might not laugh. But if we don’t believe it? Hilarious! Of course, it’s always more complicated than that (Burke), but that’s part of it.
Discordant Narrators
When there is a gap between the interpretation of facts by the narrator via her/his story and the interpretation attributed to the implied author, we call this a discordant narrator (Cohn). For instance, Ron White talks about getting a pulled over, but it was B.S. “because they were stopping everybody on that particular sidewalk, and that’s profiling, and it’s wrong.” While we can question if he was actually pulled over for driving on a sidewalk, we can also question if he really was upset about profiling. Again, if that was how he truly interpreted it, we’d question his sanity. But we think “he’s just kidding,” so we’re free to laugh. Of course, it’s always more complicated than that (Burke), but that’s part of it.
Do we laugh because of the incongruity? Probably. Do we laugh because they create and relieve tension? Maybe. Do we laugh because we feel superior to them, and their crazy interpretation? Perhaps, some of us, some times. And maybe for other reasons too.
Political Potential?
Because any comic is always potentially unreliable, always potentially discordant, we never have to believe what they say. It is this very condition that creates a space for the author to say whatever they choose. However, can a comic do bona fide political work once they are set up as unreliable? The answer may depend on how the comic establishes this condition.
Sometimes comics create boundaries by simple segmentation (the way they break up and arrange their bits), like Bill Maher’s first HBO special, in which he first warms the crowd with nine minutes of topical material and a dick joke before transitioning into his more overt partisan topics. Many other comics mix and mingle political and humorous messages in this fashion, including Margaret Cho, Chris Rock and Sarah Silverman. In doing so, they establish themselves as comics before dirtying their hands with any potentially hazardous topic.
While some might argue that all “newer” humorists work this way, that only older, established comics like George Carlin critique at will, there are others like Loni Love, Alonzo Bodden and many other (at the time) up-and-comers who begin with political topics, displaying that perhaps this form is more acceptable.
However, some comics like Black, Colbert, Larry the Cable Guy, Silverman and even Maher also include other tactics, such as creating a persona, a sustained character that allows them to make overt critiques [More on this later].
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?
Who is your favorite “crazy” comedian and why do you like them?
References
Abbott, H Porter. The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative. London: Cambridge University, 2002.
Booth, Wayne. The Rhetoric of Fiction. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago, 1961
Burke, Kenneth. Rhetoric of Religion: Studies in Logology. Berkeley: University of California Press (1970).
Foucault, Michel. “What is an Author?” a lecture given at the Collège de France on 22 February 1969.
Goffman, Erving. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Random House, 1956.
Scholes, Robert and Robert Kellogg. The Nature of Narrative. Oxford University Press, 1968.
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.
You hear it time and time again, from both comics and scholars: in stand-up comedy the only goal is laughter by any means available (Borns; Gilbert; Horowitz; Limon; Stebbins). That’s how comics make their money (Stebbins).
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.
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. This effect can also be abused, as in the case of the “Just kidding!” that reads more like a “Sorry, not sorry!”
The counterpart of laughter, in these extrinsic forms, is what Seth Meyers dubbed “clapter,” responses that indicate agreement with the comic, but not necessarily humor. [More on this later]. In an interview for Reader’s Digest, Tina Fey used the term to describe Jon Stewart’s, The Daily Show: “It means they sort of approve but didn’t really like it that much.”
Multiple goals
Understand, comics can have all kinds of different goals. Some comics may wish to shed light on an important matter, and help people, as we assume Jon Stewart does. Some comics may want to tear down everything and everybody – as do Don Rickles, Lisa Lampanelli, and South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone – there’s a certain kind of equality in all being the butt of a joke. Comics can have multiple goals within the same set, bit and even joke.
Political Potential?
Whether their extrinsic goal is to help or harm, the comic’s other, primary goal of inciting laughter causes problems as the general wisdom is that when a topic cuts too close to the bone, when it is too personal or mean-spirited, it cannot be funny (Freud, Meyer).
Humorists often try to work around this problem by creating different spatial boundaries, by playing by their own rules – and changing both boundaries and rules at will. But in doing so, comics often create gaps between what they personally believe and what they express onstage. This extends beyond simple performance of a character, as in Andy Kaufmann’s “Latke,” Richard Pryor’s “Mudbone,” etc.; it includes elements that reflect more on the comic’s personality and even sanity. In this respect even the most activist comic remains an unreliable and/or discordant narrator.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?
Are you as a comic only trying to get a laugh, or do you write jokes about things you care about, to enlighten or change things?
Do you have a favorite comic that champions something you care about?
References
Borns, Betsy. Comic Lives: Inside the World of Stand-Up Comedy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987.
Freud, Sigmund. Jokes and their Relation to the Unconscious. 1905. Trans. James Strachey. New York: W.W. Norton, 1963.
Gilbert, Joanne. Performing Marginality: Humor, Gender and Cultural Critique. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University, 2004.
Horowitz, Susan. Queens of Comedy: Lucille Ball, Phyllis Diller, Carol Burnett, Joan Rivers, and the New Generation of Funny Women. Amsterdam, Netherlands: Gordon and Breach, 1997.
Limon, John. Stand-Up Comedy in Theory, or, Abjection in America. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2000.
Meyer, John C. “Humor as a Double-Edged Sword: Four Functions of Humor in Communication.” Communication Theory 10.3 (2000): 310-331.
Stebbins, Robert A. The Laugh-Makers: Stand-Up Comedy as Art, Business and Life-Style. Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 1990.
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.
The basic idea of a space for ideas comes from Aristotle, who argues that we organize ideas spatially in our mind. We group like with like into genres, topics, as for certain audiences, etc. and separate them out from things we think are dissimilar.
The “idea” of a space
Raymie E. McKerrow, following from the work of Michel Foucault, argues that while physical spaces exist (the pre-discursive), they also get defined by the way people use them (discourse). So a room could be an office, or a bedroom, or a classroom depending on what people think it is, the rules they come up with for it, and how they act in it. Agreement on this has to be reached via some sort of communication, if not outright argument (rhetoric). We might call this the idea of the space (a product of ideology).
We can see how this applies to stand-up; while there are distinct clubs with hard and fast rules and policies, bouncers, two-drink minimums, etc., there are also mics at bars, where comics might follow an afternoon of poetry. The previous hours had completely different rules and interactions than those that follow, and not all of them are clearly laid out by the host.
How much more jarring is the transition when you’re (as does happen) a comic doing a set before they introduce a stripper at a strip club? Yes, the club space will influence the crowd and therefore the interaction, but do the comics and the strippers play by the same rules?
Assumptions about stand-up spaces
We all know some of the suppositions about the spaces of stand-up, but I question how universally they apply. For instance, we assume the speaker is kidding, playing, non bona fide, or doesn’t intend to persuade (intentionality) as they are unreliable or discordant narrators. But are we sure? For Louis Black, Margaret Cho, Kathy Griffin, Bill Maher or Jon Stewart? [I’ll go into some cases later]
We assume the audience is there to laugh, and will laugh off any serious statements. But then we’re surprised when they don’t – especially when they dissent in large groups [Look for more on this].
We assume the space extends to fans and customers, usually in the club. But we know that they can watch a recording, even one that’s been broken up, so the context is all wonky [Look for more on this].
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?
Have you ever broken (or seen someone break) an unwritten/unspoken rule in a comedy space? What did you find out or realize?
References:
Aristotle, The Rhetoric
Foucault, Michel. The Archaeology of Knowledge. New York: Pantheon Books, 1972.
McKerrow, Raymie E. “Space and Time in the Postmodern Polity.” Western Journal of Communication 63.3 (1999): 271-290.
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.
For those of you without the time, I’ll summarize. Pop culture scholarship is important because media matter and have consequences “— a recent study found that children [perhaps the most vulnerable population] gaze at screens on their TVs, computers, and mobile devices an average of six or more hours a day.” So academics critique it, and so do popular reporters and fans.
The authors note that pop culture thinkpieces written by reporters and fans stumble on an idea, rush to publish it without doing any research (the really crafty ones hold onto the idea and try to monetize it), then it goes viral and they get told they’re brilliant by other reporters and fans.
Meanwhile, pop culture academics are reading it and saying, “No shit. That’s so-and-so’s theory, from 18xx (or 322BC).” In these writers’ defense, academic journal subscriptions and university libraries aren’t free, but it’s as if they didn’t even look.
Further, they “almost always get it wrong. The writers, like many a college student, simply haven’t done the reading.” In a class, it’s a “teachable moment.” IRL, it’s taken as news and therefore Truth.
It’s not that we want recognition for our ideas, though that’s a premise of copyright law. It’s not even that we think only experts should weigh in. By all means, give us your opinion, but take the time to ask if someone thought of it before. It won’t make your observations less interesting, just more accurate, more specific and more nuanced.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?
Have you ever encountered something written by a reporter or fan that you previously read about in school, but the reporter never mentioned the original theory (let alone the author)? What did you think of the writer?
Perhaps the hardest part of stand-up for many people is actually getting on stage. Seinfeld’s joke about fear of public speaking versus death is legendary. But doing jokes onstage – and doing them with confidence – is also the most important part. Part of the problem is that every public speaking opportunity can seem different.
You would think that everyone who does stand-up is an extrovert who is just a natural in front of people. However, some people do stand-up to overcome their fears. Others discover that though they are great in groups, standing among the crowd, you put them on a stage, hand them a mic and shine a spotlight in their eyes and they crack.
When I started stand-up in 2011, I had already been a college and semi-pro mascot, trying to make people laugh through spontaneous pantomime, and prepared dance and skits. I’d also taught public speaking and other college classes for 13 years. Strangely, a larger obstacle I had previously run into was trying to sing karaoke.
For me, there was something distinctly different in wearing a costume and doing shtick, giving people information, and performing – and the last one was harder. And even though I had that experience, it was harderstill to perform things I’d written myself, with the specific goal of getting people to laugh. When I tell a joke in the classroom, any laugh is a bonus. On the other hand, when I sing someone else’s song, it’s already pretty popular, but my performance is on the line. And when I wrote it, now it’s me, on the stage, performing as best I can. That’s scary!
I can’t count the number of times I’d write a new joke, practice it, work out the performance of it, picture it doing well, and the moment before I went onstage, lost confidence in it, and at that point the bit is doomed. So how does one get or project or be confident?
My five step plan is to:
Understand the audience wants you to do well.
Know your fear.
Be excited!
Focus on the material.
Revise your expectations.
1. Understand the audience wants you to do well.
These people love humor. They came here to laugh – except for the salty, seasoned comics who just want to do their set and leave. They want to hear good new stuff, and maybe the good old stuff too. When you do poorly, it’s painful for everybody.
2. Know your fear.
The key is to identify, analyze and then modify your mindset.
Identify: So the trick is to ask yourself, “What am I afraid of?” I already laid it out: This time, it’s personal. But other comics are only satisfied with perfection.
Analyze: So then I ask, “What can I do about that?” Well, I can approach it rationally. One on one or in groups a lot of people think I’m funny, is that any less personal? All it is, is a bigger group (and not even that, usually, at open mics)! In the case of perfectionists, we can’t expect it to be “there” on the first, or even the tenth try.
Modify your mindset: This is the trick. I’m getting better and better at convincing myself that there really isn’t a difference between situations where I’m comfortable, and situations where I’m not. Perfectionists have to be willing to regard it as a work in progress.
3. Be excited!
In public speaking we talk about adrenaline and the fight-or-flight response as the root of this anxiety. Our lizard brain is calling for a physical response to an imaginary issue. What we need is an imaginary response. The mental trick that you can use here is to convince yourself that what you’re feeling is not “Nervous” but “Excited!” Your body doesn’t know the difference, it’s your mind that’s tripping you up.
And you SHOULD be excited! You’ve got stage time, and an audience that wants you to do well! This is your chance to shine!
Open mics tend to be small, which makes it more intimate, and after a bit of time, you come to know the people that share the stage, and they come to know you. So this might lower the stakes – you’ve seen these people do well, and you’ve seen them do not so well; you’re just one of the group.
Also, if you’re not excited, you’re not exciting! You have to perform the jokes, and if you’re not giving that 100%, then you’re not selling it, and if you’re not selling, they won’t buy. Which leads to the next part.
4. Focus on the material.
Oftentimes, you can solve a lot of problems by just focusing on the performance. Get into the minutiae: gestures, intonation, facial expressions.
At the next level, try to listen for the laughs to determine your timing. You don’t want to talk over or “step on” their laughs, nor do you want to pause when there is no laugh – move it along. It’s a dance – some have said it’s surfing – either way, focus on what you’re doing.
5. Revise your expectations.
It’s not going to go perfectly every time. I’ve already mentioned the 20% success rate of jokes. At the beginning, and even for a while, you may find you’re lucky if you can get up and do it at all. Even some seasoned comics admit that they have a tendency to work tried and true material, rather than to try out new stuff.
That’s fine. Do the new stuff anyway! Even if you’re just saying the joke. Even if you’re just rambling on a premise. [Though if you want me to guarantee a melt down, have me try this one. See: A Note on Spontaneity.] One hurdle down, on to the next one. The goal should not be perfection out of the gate, but improvement over time, until it’s as funny as you can make it or until you decide to shelve it.
Ask yourself, “How did I do?” Be honest, but not hypercritical. Then ask, “What’s the next reasonable step?” Aim for that. Then take the next one. Keep at it, and you’ll get there.
Questions? Thoughts? Additions? Comments?
Do you have a stage fright story? Have you gotten over it? How?
References:
Literally ever public speaking textbook I’ve read or heard about.
Writing Makes it Easier to Build Structure into your Material
Get More Laughs
Comedy Writing Enables you to Make More Money
He knows what he’s talking about, and I’d like to add an example and a few notes on why you should think about humorous modes – and the other theories I’ll write about – when writing. Because there’s a hard way and an easy way.
The Hard Way
There’s a stand-up comic working in my area, Matt Keck, who took a calculated approach. The idea was to make a viral YouTube video. So he watched a bunch of videos that had gone viral, tried to figure out what they all had in common. This is what scholars would call an inductive process, from examples to general rule). Then he made his video, and hit – if not comedy gold, at least comedy paydirt:
The video went viral and was picked up by Tosh.0. It also produced several parodies, references and spin-offs. As of today, the video has been viewed over 20.5 million times, Keck has gained over 35,000 subscribers, plus he was paid by Tosh.0, and continues to collect ad revenue. He done good.
Now, this is not to say it’s easy. This method is very hard, and doesn’t guarantee success. Just check out his other attempts, like the follow-up: I’m So Saucy. Yes, it benefits from the popularity of the first one, but was nowhere near as successful.
Why? There are a lot of possibilities. What he was doing was no longer novel, more videos like this were created between his two attempts, and we’d already seen that shtick, from him, before, etc. This is why Hollywood directors and studios cannot guarantee the success of any movie, though they are really trying. So I don’t recommend doing that much work.
The Easy (well, Easier) Way
The easier way is to find the general strategies that work and use them. Again, they don’t always work, and the same tricks won’t work the same way for different comics, or even necessarily for the same comic twice, but that’s what keeps it interesting. Most people serious about the craft are already doing this.
Comics talk about humor all the time, in podcasts and interviews – I’m looking to compile and break down a number of those for later posts – but our conversations don’t often discuss the scholarly research in the area. Humor classes sound like a good idea, but they get a bad rap because some of them are rip-offs.
It’s frustrating to me when I listen to comics and comedy teachers talk about writing and see that they are implicitly referencing the scholarly theory, but they miss aspects of it. It’s like a failing grad-student read the paper and thought, “There’s a market for this!” Then dropped out and ran with it. They gussy it up with fancy, buzz-word terms and make it their own, but most of them are saying the same things based off an imperfect understanding of a bigger idea that’s older than Aristotle.
So that’s why I’ve started this blog: Partly to organize my thoughts on the theories and their applications, partially to get me reading and writing every day, but mostly to get stuff that is public and free into the hands of those who can use it – and to convince you that you do need it. In short, to promote better comedy.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions?
I’d love to hear about (and not pay for) what people are learning, and try to explain them via the bigger theories.
Have you taken a comedy class? Was it different than any other composition (writing) class? How? What did you learn?
Everything starts with the jokes. Until you’ve got material that consistently gets laughs, you’ve got nothing – and you need at least five minutes of quality material to move to the next level. So where does it come from?
I try to have a strategy. So, here I try to make explicit what I think I and many other comics do. My process is based on the writing practices that I’ve learned in school and in turn teach, seasoned with a bunch of stuff I’ve read. So my seven step plan is: 1. get a theme, 2. get a premise, 3. write the joke, 4. pare it down, 5. find your voice, 6. make it funnier, 7. put it on stage (repeat 4-7)!
1. Get a theme
Maria Bamford, in episode four of her Comedy Central show Lady Dynamite, defines comedy as “A unique take on a universal truth.” That all starts with the idea, what the Greeks called “invention,” which for our purposes has two parts: theme and premise.
So first there’s what we can call the concept or theme, that’s that “universal truth.” For me, this is usually something I find bothersome – Note: not hilarious, or even necessarily amusing, just something that irks me. Controversial comedians will pick themes like politics, religion, or the “-ism’s,” etc., but we can pick anything, from similarities and differences among specific groups and things (men and women, dogs and cats, etc.), to crazy stories.
Where do these come from? Life. The Media. Anywhere. Keep your eyes open and observe the world around you, and take frequent notes.
Then I consider how widespread the problem is. Your jokes have to be relatable to your audience. Ideally, they should have had the experience you have had, or near enough to help them see it your way. Sure, they’ll suspend disbelief and go with you on a theme, but if they really don’t understand it or are completely opposed, it won’t go well.
Also, some themes are so used up that it’s hard to find anything new to say: The differences between men and women, masturbation and dick jokes – we’ve heard it! Find something new to talk about.
2. Get a premise
The first step was finding the issue or “truth.” The next part of invention is to ask: What’s your take on the theme? Sure, everybody follows the news, but what do you see that’s been missed? Those types of people exist, so what? This is where you need to be unique, or at least novel. Even a stale theme can be revived if you have a unique perspective; it’s just harder to find one.
Also, this is a place to develop your persona. The jokes you tell come together to form a story about who you are, what your perspective is. You might put some thought into that, so at the very least, you don’t tell jokes that contradict one another – unless that’s your strategy.
Ok, you know what you want to say about the theme, and you think it’s novel. Now stop. Ask yourself: Why is that funny? What’s the joke? If you’re like most people, you may have trouble answering. Good comics develop a type of sixth sense for funny stuff. They may not know why it’s funny, they just know that it is. Seasoned comedians say they know exactly why a bit is funny, exactly why the audience laughs (Borns), but I can point to many examples of when they were wrong.
This is where those Humorous Modes help me, and give me a vocabulary to rethink my joke. Is it making fun of people? Superiority Theory. Is it a taboo topic? Relief Theory/Carnival. Is it just quirky and weird? Incongruity Theory. This is where I think a lot of people make a mistake: My job is not to find which one “fits best,” let alone which one works all the time. My goal is to be able to explain it in as many different ways as possible. The more reasons people have to laugh, the more likely they’re going to.
So, now you’ve got a unique take on a universal truth. Great. Now you’ve still got to…
3. Write the joke
What the Greeks called arrangement, you have to decide how to tell it. There are a number of joke forms, but the basic idea is a one-liner or “nugget”: “set up” the theme and premise, then hit them with the punchline (Attardo & Raskin; Borns). It sounds so simple. It’s not.
Some comics I talk to think in terms of one-liners. A fairly successful, young guy was telling a newbie the other night that he should just write set up/punchline, and get used to that form, before he tries to branch off into stories or other forms. I wouldn’t go that far. However, breaking a joke or story apart after the fact and finding what’s essential to the set up – and what the punch line is – can certainly help.
Those who follow Incongruity theory suggest that you should set them up with a set of expectations, and then violate it, go somewhere they never saw coming in the punch line. However, others suggest that there should be enough clues in the set up (or your persona) so that they should have seen the punch coming.
Script Theory [coming soon] similarly says a joke consists of two overlapping scripts that are in opposition, frequently one bona-fide and another non- (Attardo & Raskin). For instance, onstage I talk about the difficulty as we get older of making friends, “It seems like you used to be able to go down to your local watering hole, have a few sodas, talk to the locals and make some new friends. Now they just look at me like, “Why are you even in this Chuck-E-Cheese?” The “older,” “watering hole” and the emphasis I place on “sodas,” puts up the script or frame of going to a bar as a 20-something, but it also lends itself to the script that I’m going to the same places and doing I did when I was a child. The punch line changes the script from the one to the other. Usually, I pair this with another joke about being older and not trusted around children, so they really should have seen this one coming.
As I said, other forms exist, like “puzzle-solution,” “headline-punchline,” “position taking,” and “pursuit” (Atkinson; Heritage & Greatbatch), then there are stories – I’ll get into them in a later post.
In any case, you need to know when the joke is over so you can pause and let the audience laugh. This is dangerous, as they might not, or they might laugh earlier, so to a certain extent, you’ll have to roll with it, but some preparation is wise.
4. Pare it down!
Cut, cut, cut and cut again. My mantra is “Less talky, more jokey.” You want word economy – as big a laugh in as few lines as possible. If you’ve broken it down and put some thought into it, this step is easy. Anything that doesn’t move it along and set it up? Cut it. Details make you who you are, and they can make the joke quirkier, and provide “jabs” (see below) but more often than not they just get in the way. Cut it.
5. Find your voice
Although I write my own stuff, I often don’t write it down, at least not at first. I find that it’s hard to produce my voice in a written form. [I struggle with that here as well.] Often times I’ll write a joke down – and it’s HILARIOUS, BTW – but when I go to say it, it doesn’t come out right. I realize, I wrote it in Louis CK’s voice, or Stephen Colbert’s, or Lewis Black’s, or Chris Rock’s – and I can’t pull that off.
So instead, what I do now is say the joke out loud, and repeat it over and over, until I’ve worked out the wording. Then I write it down and break it apart. Then I repeat the new version over and over, until it sounds right.
6. Make it funnier!
I repeat: The more reasons people have to laugh, the more likely they’re going to. Here again, Humorous Modes are my friends. They give hints as to what the joke is, and help me think about both expanding it and adding new elements. But there are a number of other concepts that also help me.
a. Jabs & Pags
First off, there’s the idea of “jab lines,” which are short jokes or asides in the set up of the joke (Attardo; Tsakona). I like ones that are slightly incongruous – like taking a pot shot at a internet celebrity while making a joke about freeway signs. Again, we could think of them as a separate set up/punchline that just interrupts the bigger set up, or we can think of them as essential to this joke – they keep the audience on their toes, laughing throughout, when they would otherwise just be listening. I have had a bit of success when I keep the audience slightly off-balance.
Then there’s the idea of a “pag” (Scarpetta & Spagnolli). A pag is an expansion on the joke with follow up laugh lines. It’s set up-punchline-punchline-punchline. I try to think in threes or more. You can get away with a longer set up, if it leads to more pags. You do want the laugh to build, so general organization rules apply: your second strongest punchline first (you want to guarantee that they laugh), your weakest punchline, then your best. That’s just the initial strategy. You’ll tweak this over and over onstage.
b. Wording matters
Think about your wording, what the Greeks called style. Joe Bolster says, “The difference between a laugh and no laugh is often a single syllable” (Borns, 236). I’m a huge fan of wordsmithing, and I enjoy wordplay and try to work it in whenever possible. There are a number of words in Greek and Latin, and English equivalents for tricks (we call them figures and tropes) to make your wording novel – words like alliteration and assonance – but the basic idea is you want it to sound funny. Rhyming, repetition of sounds, quirky word choices, turns of phrase, all of these can be your friends. Again, it’s gotta be your voice, but make your voice interesting!
Catchphrases or repeated phrases can also define a voice and persona (think of Rodney Dangerfield’s “I get no respect”). Further, while it’s generally a bad thing in comedy to have your punchline just be “Fuck!” – or any other taboo word – that’s what we call a ‘”dick joke” (Borns), if there’s more to the joke than that, adding a “fuck” in here or there can help it along. Just don’t lean too hard on these. Keep in mind, if you want to do corporate gigs, they often won’t hire people who are too blue. So choose wisely.
c. Perform it!
Then think about your delivery. Joe Bolster has also said, “the difference between a laugh and no laugh has also been, not a line or a word, but the way I twist my head on the punch line” (Borns, 236). You can’t just say a joke, you have to perform it! For physical, slap-stick comics, that may BE the joke (think Buster Keaton). However, even for the rest of us, things like intonation, adopting a voice, gestures, facial expression and pantomime can really help. Give them more reasons to laugh (have I said it enough?)! These things also help you develop a persona.
There’s a great Louis [CK] episode [Ok, they’re all great] where a young comic comes to Louis for advice, but the kid’s material is just tragic – not funny at all – and so Louis says, “I don’t know, do it in a funny voice,” and the guy does and kills!
What this tells me, is that leaning on such things to shore up bad material is frowned upon, but it also works, and we should use that to help our good material!
7. Put it onstage! And record it!
None of this matters if you don’t do the joke for an audience. It’s all just airy theory. Once you do the joke, you’ll learn when and where the audience laughs, if they’re going to. Joe Bolster also says, that because audiences are diverse, “hitting with twenty percent of your new material is probably a high batting average,” and it takes guts to get up there (Borns, 236).
Another benefit to going onstage is that you may also think of some new jabs, pags, wording or delivery elements in the moment, when your brain is running a mile a minute. You’ll find your voice. You’ll find out who the audience thinks you are by what they laugh at. [In a future post, I’ll talk about how to be who you want to be – which is hard!] You’ll find what works, and the joke and your persona will evolve. The open mic’s are there for practice, and we all need it!
Of course, if you’re like me, you won’t remember much, if any of that once you walk off stage. This is why it’s really important to tape yourself, and listen to or watch the tape. Borns pegs listening as half of the writing process: “to listen without writing is to be an audience, to write without listening is to be a bore” (247).
Repeat steps 4-7!
You’re not nearly there yet. You’ve got to revise and perform, over and over, to really get the joke right. Some people frown on open mic’ers who do the same jokes, over and over. And yes, you need to be trying out and developing new material; but I also see those spontaneous ramblers at the open mics, who never do the same bit twice, and so even when it’s good, it really could be better. I repeat: the open mic’s are there for practice, and we all need it! Change a word, flip it around, try it a different way. See what happens. And keep trying!
Questions? Thoughts? Comments? Additions? Do you have a process? What is it?
References:
Atkinson, J.M. “Public Speaking and Audience Responses.” In J.M. Atkinson & J.C. Heritage (Eds.). Structures of Social Action: Studies in Conversation Analysis. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University (1984): 370-409.
Attardo, Salvatore, and Victor Raskin “Script Theory Revis(it)ed: Joke Similarity and Joke Representation Model.” Humor: International Journal of Humor Research 4.3 (1991): 293–347.
Attardo, Salvatore. Humorous Texts: A Semantic and Pragmatic Analysis. New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 2001.
Borns, Betsy. Comic Lives: Inside the World of Stand-Up Comedy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987.
Heritage, J. and D. Greatbatch. “Generating Applause: A Study of Rhetoric and Response at Party Political Conferences.” American Journal of Sociology, 92 (1986): 110-157.
Morreal, John. “Verbal Humor Without Switching Scripts and Without Non-Bona Fide Communication.” International Journal of Humor Research 17 (2004): 393-400.
Scarpetta, Fabiola and Anna Spagnolli. “The Interactional Context of Humor in Stand-Up Comedy.” Research on Language and Social Interaction, 42.3, (2009): 210-230.
Tsakona, Villy. “Jab Lines in Narrative Jokes.” International Journal of Humor Research 16 (2003): 315-329.
I hear critiques of comics, most recently of Louis CK, that “he seemed to be rambling,” through his first abortion joke. They don’t seem to realize, that’s a style, something he’s doing on purpose, and something he had to work really, really hard to get just right. And we don’t talk about that enough with outsiders.
Betsy Borns points out that there’s also a social taboo against talking about writing stand-up that obscures the work. Seinfeld argues comics are “supposedly unsophisticated,” and stand-up is not considered art (237). But jokes are often quite sophisticated and require careful crafting. Don’t want to put in the work? Seinfeld has said, “People don’t want to get up in the morning and drive a truck every day either, but they do – that’s their job and this is my job” (Borns, 237).
I see people at open mics all the time, usually newbies, just rambling about their day or thoughts, as if they believe they could just wing it and something funny will happen. Sometimes it does, and sometimes they get a small reaction that indicates they can work on one piece or bit more, but most often it’s just painful. Maybe this is something that you can do when you have years in the business, and have a clear sense of your voice and that where you’re going is funny, but I don’t recommend it for newcomers. Maybe I just lack the balls.
Other people have a writing process, but it is so ingrained and idiosyncratic, that they’re not even aware of it: the joke just seems to happen. This also leads them to fall into patterns, and to write the same kinds of jokes, which can be great to develop your voice, but also runs the risk of going stale.
Everything starts with the jokes. Until you’ve got material that consistently gets laughs, you’ve got nothing – and you need at least five minutes of quality material to move to the next level. So where does it come from? See the next post: How To Write a Joke.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions? Do you have a process? Do you treat it as work?
References:
Borns, Betsy. Comic Lives: Inside the World of Stand-Up Comedy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987.
I should preface my process by saying that writing is often unexamined. People think that jokes “just happen,” spontaneously. And they do – in conversations and casual moments, quick people can pull it out. Spontaneous events are as good a place as any to start, and it definitely satisfies one quality of humor that will make you stand out: it’s an experience that is unique to you (or you and a limited number of people). But the key is to predict or create those kind of moments on-stage, again and again. And more often than not, you have to tweak it to make the best possible impact on stage.
Some people also think that spontaneous, funny thought is all that (at least some) comics do on stage – Robin Williams and Michael Richards leap immediately to mind. Well, sometimes. At open mics. But not usually when they’re headlining a show. And it frequently doesn’t work for them, as the Michael Richards racist incident shows.
Paul Reisner says he starts with a funny, one-liner or “nugget,” and if the audience bites, he expands on it spontaneously and organically (Borns). That’s definitely something to aspire to, but I don’t find it to be the norm.
A lot of people also do crowd work, and when it’s spontaneous it can be awesome, especially when it’s unique. However, a lot of crowd work is like improv: it’s not as “improvised” as it looks. I see guys give similar responses to every pretty girl, black guy, hippie guy, etc. Their audience that sees them one time doesn’t see that it’s prepared.
The point is, that most comics aren’t as spontaneous as we think, if they are at all. And this should not be our goal, starting out.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Additions? How much do you trust to spontaneity? Do you prepare anything, or just wing it?
References:
Borns, Betsy. Comic Lives: Inside the World of Stand-Up Comedy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987.