I Like His Sense of Humor

The question Professor McIntire-Strasburg posed to us on Wednesday still circulates in my mind. What can one offer when faced with the general quandary of why male comics are more successful than female ones? The answer is as hard to pin down as a complete definition of comedy. For every supposition, there exists notable counterarguments and exceptions. In class, I proposed that the answer might lie in our upbringing, culture’s constant discouragement of unladylike behavior (often the essence of stand-up) stunting girls’ comedic ability. I could use the rest of this entry to explain reasons behind the theory, or counter objections to it, but really, we have already spent a great deal of class discussion doing that. To avoid redundancy, I scoured the internet for a different take on this sticky question, and the following serves as an interesting reversal of what one would typically think.

In the article, “Why Women Aren’t Funny,” Christopher Hitchens offers an interesting proposition about male supremacy over female comedians. He writes:

Why are men, taken on average and as a whole, funnier than women? Well, for one thing, they had damn well better be. The chief task in life that a man has to perform is that of impressing the opposite sex, and Mother Nature (as we laughingly call her) is not so kind to men. In fact, she equips many fellows with very little armament for the struggle. An average man has just one, outside chance: he had better be able to make the lady laugh….Women have no corresponding need to appeal to men in this way. They already appeal to men, if you catch my drift.

What is novel (and nice) about this theory, is its shift from the negative, “women aren’t funny” to a more positive, “women aren’t funny because they don’t have to be.” In Hitchens thought, men are funny because there genetic survival depends on it, and when one depends on a skill for survival, they tend to develop it much more and far better than someone who does not. In some ways, I agree with Hitchens. In the situation he prefaces his article with, he points out that when asked why they like their significant other, most women claim it is because he has a sense of humor. In my own experience talking with friends and hearing others, what he states rings true: having an ability to make the other laugh tops a woman’s list of desirable qualities, and therefore, it is no wonder men prevail in the humor department.

The only drawback I see in Mr. Hitchen’s argument is that he is operating from a stereotyped view of men. Being a man, he obviously has more authority than I do on the subject, however, his declaration that women “already appeal to men,” is not a solid assumption. His claim supposes men are of only a “one-track” mindset, and have no other criteria in the women they choose. Certainly, a woman completely devoid of a sense of humor is not a pleasant companion, so to say women do not need it is presumptive. Then again, if one believes humor is not so high on the male list of desirable qualities, the argument regains its previous strength, since it claims that is the exact reason women do not need to develop their comedic abilities like men do. Although superficially what Hitchens proposes makes complete sense, in the end, his generalized view of men makes me question how viable his theory is.

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The article (especially for this course) is a worthy read, and very much recommended for anyone who likes to debate the issue of male vs. female comedy. Also, because I have only so much room in a given blog post, I could not go into every detail Hitchens raises in his writing, but he does elaborate further on the above point. What he concludes really made me start thinking about how I see male comedians in comparison to female ones, and though I did not always agree with what he said, I am glad I got to read a different (and male) answer to the question initially asked of the class on Wednesday.

Hitchens, Christopger. "Why Women Aren't Funny." www.vanityfair.com. January 2007. Vanity Fair. 26 March 2009. http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2007/01/hitchens200701?currentPage=1.

Timing is Everything

Reflecting on the stand-up comedians we have watched this past week in class, I wanted to look specifically at questions of timing, and how a comic’s speed makes (or breaks) their act.

Starting with a simple observation, I noticed that those who had a rather slow delivery usually were not as funny. The slowness came from a variety of methods, from simply speaking at a slow pace, to intentional pauses or moments of silence, presumably done to enhance the joke’s effect. In reality, what these devices created was not a heightened humor, but a feeling of hesitation in the performance, making the comedian seem unsure of their direction or the joke itself. The audience, noticing this, no longer blindly perceives humor, but starts questioning what they hear, often becoming critical of the material. It is not a favorable condition for a stand-up act, since its success comes from audience approval—the more laid back or receptive the audience, the more likely success becomes.

What initially led me to the above observation is the contrast between the slow performers and their fast-paced counterparts. Those (like Ellen Cleghorne and Wanda Sykes) moved, both in their pacing between jokes, and in their actions on stage. Also, neither institutes pausing or waits before starting the next joke, and thus, they effectively ride the laughter of the first one, translating it into the probable success of the next. Whereas the others appeared unsure of whether or not the routine would garner laughs, these two always moved ahead, their confidence spreading to the audience. The result is an audience that is a relaxed and receptive group, easily persuaded into laughter. (I could not help but feel that the class, as well as those on the DVD, seemed to have a more positive reaction to these faster comics. Watching the others sometimes dragged, and the humor would often die in the gaps between jokes).

Although faster comedy may be more successful, that does not mean slow delivery is always a stand-up death sentence. Sometimes, a pause can accentuate humor’s effect. For example, what I remember most from Bill Burr’s performance was his carefully timed water bottle pause after delivering a statement about Hitler. The line was completely random, and his refusal to offer a quick explanation emphasized just how out of place it was. In this instance, the timing was what sealed the success of the joke, since it occurred at just the right moment, and was again continued at the perfect time, not left to linger so long that the laughter would die. When considering Burr’s piece in comparison to that of Margaret Cho’s, the success of his timing becomes even more evident. Cho’s posing became a detractor from her humor, either lasting too long or coming at oddly unnecessary moments. In essence, Cho’s timing makes her performance so awkwardly paced, the audience becomes disoriented at the lack of rhythm. Clearly, the old phrase, “timing is everything,” is an adage that strongly applies to the success of stand-up.

Full Monty Commodity

Today, I will return to the question posed in class:

Why is stripping empowering for men (like those in Full Monty), but not so for women?

To derive a basis for comparison, I first want to isolate exactly what are the specific causes and consequences of stripping that lead to empowerment. From here, I will apply my theories to the initial question, expectantly coming to a definitive conclusion for why stripping creates a gender specific power shift:

Concerning causes, choice is the most empowering feature. Those who do the deed, and do so through their sole decision, are essentially in control by having power over the situation. Those who have to do it because of outside pressure or outstanding circumstances lose much of the power that accompanies having a choice. Ultimately, the power of choice is all about control, with having it (or lacking it) becoming the main indication of how much empowerment one gains from a situation.

Now comes the problem with choice. Regardless of free will debates and for the sake of argument here, I proposition that “to strip or not to strip” is always the individual’s choice. In light of that, the dominating factor becomes outside circumstances which often force people into desperate situations. Full Monty perfectly illustrates this point as Gaz and the guys’ unemployment creates the monetary problems which spiral into other pressures that eventually lead them to their stripping solution. Ultimately, if it were not for these extenuating circumstances, they would never even have considered its viability. However, this still leaves a huge problem in answering the initial question. I suspect most (if not nearly all) of the women who strip do so for the same reasons as Gaz, namely, outside pressures they want to alleviate by making the quick money which comes from stripping. Therefore, with the choice issue being identical for both men and women, it leaves me to conclude that empowerment through choice works only for those who strip solely because they want to. As a result, choice clearly is not the mitigating factor of gender specific stripping empowerment, and for an answer to the initial question, I need to look elsewhere.

Turning to a new cause/consequence, money also plays a large part in the stripping scenario. At the general level of commodity analysis, the supply and demand dynamic causes a constant shifting in the power between consumer and producer. Consumer “wants” drive market production, with what they set their desires on becoming the commodity of value. Yet, what happens when those “wants” are not for a material object but an action? Do those who provide the action become the object? Does objectifying people have anything to do with empowerment? Do you really need to ask yourself the answer to the last question?

Obviously, the results complicate exponentially as the human element becomes part of the stripping equation. The difficulty in this analysis is that the commodity has moved out of the realm of material goods, and into a gray area of human action. To understand this better, consider the specific roles in the different stripping scenarios. When women are on stage, men come because that is what they want to see. This scenario places the woman stripper solely in the category of human object whose actions/body are the item(s) for sale. Now, in the reverse situation, a peculiarity arises. Going back to the point Professor McIntire-Strasburg made in class, I would agree that for most women, it is more about being a part of the group then it is about seeing the show. What this does is make the product (men stripping) no longer the sole reason for attendance, considerably diminishing the commodity factor in the male action. In the end, herein lies the answer. A strip performance devoid of objectivity empowers the stripper since they both maintain their personal status as well as reap the benefits (money) of their action. Conversely, a stripper who is only an object of another’s gratification becomes the “means” in the situation, and when people become solely a means to another’s end, they lose the power.

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This post is long enough, but really, I could go on forever about this topic. For an odd reason, the power dynamic that plays in professions society marginalizes always interests me, and I find myself endlessly considering the questions on both sides of the argument. So, do you agree? Is commodity what causes the power shift, or is there something else? Is it fair to claim that men are the only ones who see strippers as objects? What about those women who do not care about the group? Really, anything you have to say about this I would love to hear.

Clever Calendar Girls

In class, we have discussed extensively societal expectations and gender roles. Continuing in that vein, I wanted to look closer at the movie Calendar Girls, and examine not only the conflicts that arise from those expectations, but also, how the movie plays with them.

A major issue of the movie is the fallout from the success of Chris’ project. Her son, obviously not pleased that his mother is the leader and feature in a nude calendar, constantly rebels from the situation. Unlike her son, Chris’ husband accepts it well, telling her how he wanted her to have everything she achieved. The only quips he may have with the whole affair he unwittingly tells a disguised reporter. Even in this moment, everything he says he relates jokingly, or in the air of a conversation solely between two men, not in any way intended for a newspaper story.

What I like about the reaction of the husband is how it plays with audience expectations. So many movies focus on the split they assume will inevitably come when the wife and husband switch implied roles, the woman becoming more successful or profitable than the man. What’s more, the prevailing feeling is that the man must automatically be unhappy because he is no longer in the position of family prestige. In this movie, the husband is not typical, and tells Chris he never wanted anything different then what happened. In reality, the underhanded means of an unscrupulous reporter (arguably reflective of society) is the one ultimately responsible for all the conflict, exaggerating and distorting the husband’s feelings about the role reversal. This is a spin on what one expects, for the husband does not undergo some change of heart or learn to cope with her success, (or even try to fight it), but is actually comfortable with it from the start.

Also, many times, film has the man instigating the conflict, because it again assumes pressure to be the provider will finally cause in him to be the first to unhappily snap at the other. In Calendar Girls, all these assumptions are disregarded, and instead, here is a man who reminds the other man in his life (his son) to be proud of what his mother has accomplished. What is also interesting is how the movie further plays with the expectation, placing Chris as the one responsible for worsening the conflict in her marriage. Her husband’s jokes which end up on the front-page of their newspaper, he was tricked into giving. Upon seeing the story, Chris leaves for Hollywood without even speaking to him (and had she done so, would have easily resolved the entire issue). Society assumes women are communicators who always want to talk about the problem where as men would rather move on or ignore it. In this scene, here is Chris, the woman, being the anti-communicator, leaving the country without a word to her husband. In this way, where her husband before went against societal expectations by being unthreatened by her success, Chris too shuns the norm, not talking or making attempts to communicate what bothers her.

A brief ending comment: Perhaps the thing I like best about all of this societal expectation reversal is the fact that Chris’ husband is a florist (and I believe Annie’s was too). Floral arrangements and flowers are typically a women’s hobby, and I thought it was interesting that the movie made it their husbands’ line of work.

Bergson’s Universal Theory

My midterm paper had me looking closely at Henri Bergson’s definition of comedy and applying it to stand-up, specifically, Eddie Izzard’s Dress to Kill. Now, Izzard provided me with nearly two hours of material, the result being I had ample amounts of examples to fit into Bergson’s theory. Here, I want to continue working with Bergson, but narrow my material to a short, written work (after all, if it is a viable comedic theory, it needs to be able to apply to written as well as performed humor). The following is a look at Ann Stephens’ “Letter 14” (from her story, High Life in New York by Jonathan Slick, Esq.), focusing on how it fits into three specific propositions of Bergson’s comedic definition.

1. Bergson proposes that comedy must be of accidental causes (121). “Letter 14’s” comedy does exactly this, since it arises from a complete misunderstanding. At the climax of the story’s confusion, the shopkeeper exclaims, “Did you [Slick] really take that pair of French corsets for a side-saddle, sir? Oh, dear, I shall die a larfin!” (Stephens 59). And with the shopkeeper, the audience also laughs when Slick finally realizes his accidental error in judgment. What’s more, the joke becomes compounded when Slick says, “I felt dreadfully though, to think that I’d been a talking about a gal’s under-riggin, to as woman so long…” (Stephens 59). Clearly, Slick’s complete naivety about the subject creates the humor, his final realization of the truth coming too late to stop the impending laughs.

2. Bergson also proposes that comedy is of natural causes (122). Considering poor country lad Slick knows less about women’s clothing than saddles, it makes sense he would automatically find a corset to look more like a riding contraption. For him, it is only natural he would ask where the martingale is, describing it as “the straps that come down in front to throw the chest out, and give the neck a harnsome bend…” (Stephens 56). Now the comedy returns to Bergson’s accidental cause, for unbeknownst to Slick, he suggests in seriousness to the shopkeeper that the garment do to a woman what tack does to a horse.

3. The last of Bergson’s propositions which will be looked at here, is that the comedian is unaware of the comedy he creates (123). As the above two examples prove, Slick has no idea he is looking at a corset, thinking it is a saddle instead. The audience knows what Slick is missing, but his not knowing is critical to the piece’s comedic effect. Essentially, Slick’s unawareness is the joke, and as a result, he fits this last posit of Bergson’s perfectly.

After looking at these three prominent parts of Bergson’s theory, one clearly sees that his definition can successfully apply to comedy that is written as well as to that which is performed. Oftentimes, (and especially in literary studies which focuses primarily on textual references), people forget that theories need to have universality, or the ability to span across different media. The fact is, diverse application is an imperative of any theory, because as already stated, if it is to be a viable, it needs to work almost anywhere.

Bergson, Henri. “From Laughter: An Essay on the Meaning of the Comic.” The Philosophy of Laughter and Humor. Ed. John Morreall. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987. 117-126.

Stephens, Ann. “Letter 14.” 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. 52-61.

Burr vs. Carlin

Wednesday’s viewing of Bill Burr’s performance, Why Do I Do This?, alighted in me some questions of comparison between him and George Carlin. So much of these two’s material centered on the same issues (like consumption, obesity, and consumerism), yet, only one of them did I find funny. It forces me to wonder why was I so affronted by Carlin, but not so by Burr? What was it that made me take Carlin seriously, judging his act to be completely devoid of comedy? How come only Burr’s strikes me as a humorous performance?

To begin answering my questions, it will help to compose a list of differences. First, the delivery of each man is notably different. Whether it be a persona or not, the reality is that there is a decidedly unshakable “grouchy-old-man” impression plaguing Carlin’s material. Instead of working in his favor, this irritability hampers the comedy, the perceived anger and resentment causing what should be comedic to become entirely serious. Burr on the other hand, conveys an opposite feeling in his act. Again, whether the act is a persona or not is immaterial, for only the feeling the audience gets is what matters. Burr’s entire act has an air of good-humor, nothing the man says intending to be considered in seriousness. It helps that Burr will occasionally smile, because little actions like that are what ultimately create the overall effect of lightheartedness, and make an audience more attune to the fact that the performance is meant as comedy. As a result, Burr’s act becomes one that amuses while Carlin’s turns into a time for his rants. Noticing this, the audience becomes more inclined to accept Burr as comedic and Carlin as not.

Another sizeable difference is the two men’s relationship with the audience. Burr has many tactics which all work to build an understanding between him and those who his material’s success inevitably depends. He does this by taking care to mention that although what he thinks may not be normal, they are still thoughts everyone at some time or another has as well. His scenarios revolve around “you where thinking it but would never say it, but now I’m saying it” humor, and thus, establish a direct connection between him and those viewing. Conversely, Carlin fails to take any measures to do what Burr does, forgoing audience rapport in favor of grandstanding. (Exactly how he does this I have written on before, so won’t go further into here). In the end, Burr’s successful audience connection allows his act to be perceivably more humorous than Carlin’s.

Further observations on delivery, or a detailed analysis of each joke could yield more insights on my initial question, however, the result will remain the same, Burr’s act conveying comedy while Carlin’s slips into an unfavorable tirade.