Almost There

It is difficult to believe the semester is already over, but you will find me hard pressed to complain that summer is almost here. However, before I get to enjoy any off-time, I must complete a considerable amount of coursework, part of that being this blog. And so, without further delay, here is the my last blog entry of the year.

A FINAL REFLECTION:

Above all, I have decided that anyone who attempts an all-inclusive definition of comedy is crazy. We have looked over so many different forms, styles, and types of humor, that to create a single explanation for them is pretty much impossible. What I say humor is will in no way align with what another says, and when “experts” start weighing in, the whole project becomes infinitely overcomplicated. For a long time now, I have come to believe our personal perspective on what is funny is too much a part of who we are, and thus, we are unable to disregard it when trying to craft an objective definition. It is a mire theorists seem to get stuck in when working out their own theories. In the end, all I want to say is we should stop worrying about constructing the end-all explanation of the funny, and rather, live by Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s simple wisdom of, “I know it when I see it…” (Of course, he was talking about obscenity & pornography, but it is still a nice sentiment in regards to comedy).

Now, I already know the immediate objection is that for a class designed to analyze humor, we cannot simply state we know what is funny and move on. There needs to be some type of theory to start the discussion, and it is our job as critically thinking individuals to look past the “what” and into the “how” of a matter. I guess I want my above advice to serve as more of a friendly reminder that despite all the theorizing and contemplating in the world, there will never be a single definition which completely covers a concept as elusive as comedy. Rather than seeing this as detracting from our study, we would do better to be glad that there is no final word on what is humorous, since without a complete definition, there is room for all kinds of interpretation. Truly, the more studies I encounter, the more I come to like the subjects that do not have rigid systems for classification. (This is probably the major incentive behind my choice of majors given Literary Studies is all about asserting and supporting personal interpretations).

The last detail I want to leave with is the mention that after a whole semester of judiciously assessing a comedian’s delivery, style, and material, the practice has become habit. Now, I find myself consciously noting technicalities where I use to unconsciously enjoy the show. Although I may not be able to recite Freud’s definition, or remember every posit from Bergson’s theory, I can guarantee you that I will never watch stand-up in the same way again.

Trying to Transcend Public Perceptions

All the stand-up presentations this past week were great, and the nice thing for me has been that I am relatively unfamiliar with the comedians people have covered so far. Of course, the big names I have heard of, but after thinking about it, I realize I have not actually looked closely at their work or really watched any of their headlining performances.

What I remember most from the presentations is the mention about the “rocky” start Dave Chappelle apparently had, getting booed offstage during his first attempt at stand-up. Whenever I hear stories like that, I always wonder how a person recovers. Chappelle’s case is especially interesting, because not only did he recover, but he somehow also managed to become an enormous success in spite of it. I believe it was mentioned that he drew on that experience as motivation to do better in future performances. Certainly, his forward thinking mentality paid off. Sometimes, success stories like this we have a bad tendency to file away in our minds as “cliché,” but when you stop to actually think about how much courage it would take to go back out on stage after such a miserable first experience, you start to genuinely respect (and appreciate) the steal resolve many of these comedians have.

Another quirky feature I have notice among these stand-up performers, is the constant struggle they have in not only trying to convey a certain persona, but also, in sometimes trying to leave that persona behind them. So much thought goes into a stand-up act, and most of the characteristics a comedian exhibits on stage are intentional ones designed to create a specific image; however, what is one to do when he no longer wants that image he so carefully crafted? Specifically, I am thinking of the case of Eddie Izzard, who despite having an arguably strong acting career now, may have had more offers/opportunities had he not become famous for his foray as an “action transvestite.” In general, here I think a lot of the problem is one all performers face—the plague of typecasting. Yes, it is great to achieve fame, but if one utilizes a persona to get there, it seems almost impossible that he will ever escape. Still, the operative word in that statement is “almost,” because, although it takes a tremendous amount of time and constant work, there is always that outside chance people will start to recognize a comedian as more than just the one, popular persona they get to see in their stand-up.

In many respects, Izzard is well on his way to finally breaking through his early transvestite persona, his roles in movies, (and as the presentation pointed to), T.V. series like The Riches, helping to dispel the theory that he is only funny when dressed as a woman. The key for him has been constantly finding work, staring in roles that are far removed from the persona that made him famous. If you apply that logic more broadly, you start to see it is true for anyone trying to escape a persona, for the more roles they take on, the less likely they are to be associated with a single, distinct character.

Effective Humor

We are coming towards the end of the semester, and so far in the course, we have looked at lots of humor/rhetoric pieces. Still, with each piece we read, I always wonder about much of an impression they leave on their readers (both when they were first published and in modern times). Last week, we saw pieces from political humorists desiring to expose the truth about the superficial world of politics, and how politicos are obsessed with achieving a positive image (but never in the real work that creates one, instead, opting to manipulate the press into creating one for them). I surmise it is a safe assumption to presume most people already think politics is a world of image-laden people, and certainly, the pieces we looked at showed this, but what now? As a reader, do you feel like doing something to change it, or do you just take the story as a funny reminder of what you already knew? This all points to a larger question I often ponder when encountering humor, namely, can humor be effective?

When looking at humor in my other literature classes, this question has come up before. There are good cases on both sides. Some say it is not effective, because when people laugh, they disregard the seriousness of the author’s argument, but the converse is also true, since opponents will point out that laughter does not always mean something is funny, because oftentimes, people laugh to relieve their discomfort or mask their true feelings in a situation. Therefore, even though a reader is laughing, the piece might have more of an effect on them then anyone imagines.

As far as my own beliefs go, I feel that the more you know about the author, the more likely you are to be effected by the message in their humorous piece. For example, in one of my classes, a Native American author we read (Diane Burns), wrote the rather humorous poem, “Sure You Can Ask Me A Personal Question.” (Before reading the rest of this post, try reading it once over, and see what you think about it). Now, after we had read it, someone in our class gave a presentation on her life, and showed us this poem:

Our people
slit open the badger
to see the tomorrows
in its blood.
Now
look at me
and see what our
tomorrows hold

It is not funny, but it is very revealing about its author. The humor of the first poem is not as laughable when you consider the frustration the second one shows (since in it, we can more easily see the anger Native Americans have with the treatment they’ve received throughout the years). Looking at this poem in conjunction with the other facts of her tumultuous life (sadly ending at age 50 from drugs and alcohol), pushed our class to decide that the first one was meant more as “bitingly sarcastic” humor than as “ha ha” funny. Knowing this, we began to see the humor as a means of relaying a bigger hurt rather than some mere joke or observation.

Needless to say, the overall effect was momentous, and the message of her poem struck me as much more powerful than any humor piece has so far. However, had I never learnt anything about her, I probably would not of considered her humor in such a serious light, and might still be merely laughing at something that deserves more.

Burns, Diane. "Sure You Can Ask Me A Personal Question." 18 April 2009. http://cc.ysu.edu/~asleskov/sure,_you_can_ask_me.htm.

Ferguson, Sarah. "Obituary: Diane Burns, Native American Lower East Side Poet." The Villager. February 2007. 18 April 2009. http://www.thevillager.com/villager_198/dianeburnsnative.html.

George Carlin Revisted

The George Carlin presentation on Wednesday was very insightful. The part that intrigued me most was the second clip from Carlin’s show, Life is Worth Losing. Having seen the intro and the other segment we watched in class (the one about the “pyramid” with suicidal people and the disgust Carlin has for consumerism), I was interested to see if maybe those parts where categorical of the whole show. Now, I believe the tone of the parts we saw previously in class is indeed the tone that Carlin’s carries throughout the performance. It is that pessimistic, angry old man attitude where nothing is good, and humanity will hopefully erase itself from the face of the planet. (Hence the name of the show, and also, why Carlin fits the “villain” persona so well, just like the presentation described).

Now, the above is somewhat old news, because the crankiness is a feature of Carlin’s I (and others) have already discussed at length. What was new this time around was the way I approached watching the clip. I already knew what to expect—a wizened, angry Carlin—and because of that, I did not have the same shock that I did when first watching Life is Worth Losing. Not being shocked, I started to focus on why I was shocked (and received the material so badly) the first time around. The main reason I’ve decided on is that despite the prevailing belief that after comedians like Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy, nothing is shocking anymore, the reality is that shock come in more ways than marginal language, sexual jokes, or racial comments. For me, the new type of shock for value is a deep level of morbid thinking about humanity or the future. However, this is not any old joke about some morbid scenario (because, for me, some of those are funny), but rather, it is morbid thought supported by the comics whole-hearted and sincere belief in that thought. Essentially, the shock is coming from the joke no longer being a joke, but it being a serious desire masked as humor so as to make it more palatable.

I suppose I am back to where I started, since the first time I looked at Carlin’s most recent material, I decided it was not funny because it was not delivered as a joke. His contempt comes through his material too well, and really sets a negative tone to the performance. Then again, that might be why people still find him funny (just look at the performance’s sold out crowd for evidence of that).

***

Anyway, apart from all that, Wednesday’s presentation was enjoyable, and it makes me look forward to seeing everyone else’s.

That's What She Said

Two weeks ago, I wrote a response to Christopher Hitchens’ article, “Why Women Aren’t Funny.” This week, while looking through the headlines on CNN, I coincidently came across a female’s view on the same issue.

Elizabeth Landau’s article, “Why Funny Guys Get the Babes,” essentially reiterates much of what Mr. Hitchens already stated, but the study she uses for support, I found interesting. Northumbria University’s Kristofor McCarty conducted an experiment which asked 45 heterosexual women (ages 18-30), to rate various self-descriptions of men based on qualities such as “likeliness of friendship, likeliness of long-term relationship, honesty and intelligence.” The results?

Women said the men with the funniest descriptions were significantly more likely to be candidates for long-term relationships, as well as friends. Participants also rated the more amusing men as more intelligent and honest.

The article goes on to provide the reason for these results stating the benefits of having a good sense of humor (reduces stress, makes others feel better, leads to happiness and good health, signifies a more intelligent person) are why women look for that quality in men, since clearly, they are extremely positive things to have in a long-term relationship. After reading these two articles, information like this is becoming more and more obvious to me, and I am starting to agree that men really do need humor to genetically survive (and are therefore, more proficient in it).

The only controversy I step into with these articles are summations like, “Time constraints prevented McCarty from exploring this question, but he said research suggests that men don't care much about women's sense of humor.” In fact, according to McCarty, “A man wants a woman who laughs at his jokes and is not too bothered if his girl isn't funny at all.” McCarty’s words are disheartening for me. It is as if women’s humor is a non-issue, and will never be something for sincere consideration. It is almost if all these studies are saying, “It’s good if she’s funny, but if not, it does not matter, because all she needs to be able to do is laugh at her boyfriend’s jokes.” I wonder how enjoyable would it be to date a woman who could not make any jokes of her own. Would you console yourself with the knowledge that at least she laughs at yours? Still, if you are the one who has to keep providing the humor in a relationship, I would argue you are only dating yourself, because there is nothing more boring than joking with someone who cannot joke back.

To have all these articles and studies relegate women to the audience because they believe women do not need humor for their genetic survival is hard reasoning to accept wholeheartedly. In the end, it is a bit of a nearsighted opinion, because ultimately, men may not seek out women specifically for their funniness, but if you compare a woman with a sense of humor to one who lacks it, it really is no contest. Maybe the debate needs to be less about who is better at creating humor, and more about the fact that humor is a desirable (and necessary) quality in a companion, regardless of their gender.

Landau, Elizabeth. "Why Funny Guys Get the Babes." www.cnn.com. 2 April 2009. CNN. 9 April 2009. http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/04/02/women.funny.men....

What Happens?

When discussing Zora Neale Hurston’s “Turpentine Love,” a question arose about Jim Merchant, and we were asked to consider what makes him such a peculiar man. My answer comes from the first sentence where Hurston writes, “Jim Merchant is always in good humor—even with his wife” (245). Culture today plays heavily on the idea of the worsening marriage, teaching that the longer two people are married, the more likely they are to become resentful to each other. Jim Merchant is peculiar in that this cultural thought has yet to intrude on his marriage, and after many years of matrimony, he still manages to have good humor with his wife. Of course, her being unable to speak [“She has had all her teeth pulled out” (245).] might be the ultimate reason for Mr. Merchant’s long-lasting humor.

The most complicated vignette of Hurston’s we read has to be “Pants and Cal’line.” The open ending leaves a reader with many possible scenarios to finish the story with, and no matter how you want to end it, there are all sorts of implications to draw out. Does she only scare her cheating husband, or does she finally put a definitive end to his cheating? Does she go for the mistress instead, opting to leave the husband alone? We learn early on that she was prone to do “things to the women, surely. But most any townsman would have said that she did them because she liked the novel situation and the queer things she could bring out of it” (246). Is taking an axe to her husband’s mistress merely a novel situation for her?

When I first read the story, all I thought was the simple, “something bad is going to happen,” and did not give it much more consideration than that. However, thinking more about it now, I am starting to reconsider my original notion. Early in the semester, the various pieces of theory warned against humor which involves violence that is too realistic, since when we know someone becomes seriously hurt, much of the comedic effect is lost. Considering how taking an axe to another person is an extremely grizzly form of murder, does the piece lose something if you believe that is how it ends?

The townspeople are what save it for me, because when seeing her pass with the axe, they are set to “giggling and betting” (247). Their flippant attitude of betting on Cal’line’s actions makes me believe what she ultimately does is not too horrible. How can you sit on a porch and place money on whether or not a wife is going to brutally slay her husband and his girlfriend? Being privileged to previous episodes of the Potts’ problems, it is as if they know something the audience cannot possibly consider in their surmising of what happens. Still, this whole incident is presumably the first time Mitchell Potts tried to assert his “manly” authority in the household, so even though the townspeople laugh as if the axe is just another harmless fit of Cal’line’s, they might be wrong. There is a first time for everything, and this might become the first time Mitchell will not be able to cheat again.

Hurston, Zora Neale. “Pants and Cal'line.” Redressing the Balance: American Women's Literary Humor from Colonial Times to the 1980s. Ed. Nancy Walker and Zita Dresner. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1988. 246-247.

---. “Turpentine Love.” Redressing the Balance: American Women's Literary Humor from Colonial Times to the 1980s. Ed. Nancy Walker and Zita Dresner. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1988. 245.

Parker's Poetry

Poetry has always been a challenge for me. The best way I can describe our relationship is that it is one of those “love-hate” dichotomies where I love how short it is, but hate that I do not “get it.” One fact I am willing to concede is that over my high school (and yes, college too) careers, I have been exposed to poetry that I may not have understood at first, but later found such deep, multi-layered messages, that in the end, I cannot do anything but appreciate the beauty in those short lines. Granted, the appreciation did not come entirely from myself, and it was only after someone else held my hand and walked me through it that I started to pick up the underlying (or overarching) themes. Maybe one day I will reach complete poetic autonomy and not need someone to help in my decipherment, but until that day, I am content with acknowledging my simple victory in the fact that I no longer cringe at the mention of having to read it (and on a good day, sometimes even look forward to the challenge).

Where am I going with all this? The poetry following Dorothy Parker’s prose piece was completely unexpected. By far, her poems might be my favorite pieces so far in the course. One strain I particularly enjoy about her pieces is how they play with what an audience expects from a woman author (who usually gets stereotyped as being a hopeless romantic, always rooting for “true love”). “Unusual Coincidence” and “General Review of the Sex Situation,” both humorously point out the faultiness in love, and how it does not always prevail given the realities of life. From here, the conversation can easily diverge into all sorts of avenues, going anywhere from gender expectations of monogamy to what is “true love,” to whether or not relationships really are maintained based on lies. Parker’s poetry is simply brilliant, and wonderfully demonstrates my personal definition of perfect poetry:

1. They are accessible to anyone: I can read it for myself and understand what is happening; I do not need an authority or outside explanation to comprehend what the piece is speaking about or what is happening.

and

2. They are not devoid of a deeper meaning: On top of being straightforward, there are still deeper implications and commentary coming out of what her poems’ state, and as such, prove that a poem does not have to be purposefully obscure if it wants to have a profound message or open up meaningful dialogue.

There are other qualities I look for in poetry (humor being a big “plus” on my list), however, the above are the two main criteria I approach a poem with, and if it can successfully fulfill them, I almost always come out adoring it. Poetry and I have come a long way in our relationship—I no longer irrationally hate everything about it, and it every now and then throws me an enjoyable piece I cannot help but love.