What’s So Funny?

By Ashleigh Brilliant   |   April 19, 2018

Maybe you have heard the story of the man who went to see an eminent Viennese psychiatrist complaining that for some reason he felt sad all the time. After some discussion, the doctor said, “Let me suggest, as a first step, that you go to the theater tonight. The great clown Grimaldi is performing here in Vienna. He is so funny, he makes everyone laugh.” 

“But doctor,” sighed the patient, “I AM Grimaldi!”

There is indeed nothing funny about humor. Making people laugh is a very serious business and has become much more so since the advent of mass media. Not only whole careers, but multi-millions in box-office takes, equipment sales, and advertising dollars depend on it. 

But what we might call the Grimaldi Paradox is by no means a recent phenomenon. In Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta The Yeomen of the Guard, one of the characters is Jack Point, a professional jester, sometimes employed and housed by wealthy families. His song about the difficulties of being a “private buffoon” concludes with this stanza:

Though your head, it may rack with a bilious attack,
And your senses with toothache you’re losing,
Don’t be mopey and flat – they don’t fine you for that –
If you’re properly quaint and amusing!
Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,
And took with her your trifle of money,
Bless your heart, they don’t mind – they’re exceedingly kind –
They don’t blame you – as long as you’re funny!

Although Gilbert and Sullivan are known for “comic operas,” this particular one was more somber and serious than most of the others – and even had a sad ending. 

When Sullivan died in 1900, Gilbert, who lived until 1911, was asked to suggest an inscription for Sullivan’s monument. He chose the opening lines from a beautiful song in “The Yeomen of the Guard:”

Is Life a boon? If so, it must befall
That Death, whene’er he call, must call too soon.

At this point, thinking about humor, allow me to introduce one of my pet peeves, a product of the Television Age: “canned laughter.” Happily, movies, as shown in theaters, have never succumbed to this curse. And radio programs also often had their own live audiences, whose reactions could be heard by the listeners at home. But sometime in the 1950s, some questionable genius in TV production came up with the idea of a “laugh track” for situation comedies and other supposedly funny programs which did not have audiences in attendance. The result, as can still be suffered through on much TV fare to this day, was a deluge of programs with laughter sometimes so obviously fake that it is (forgive me) laughable.

Thank you for letting me get that off my list of unshared grievances. But, returning to our main topic, what really is funny anyway? Nowadays at some universities, whole academic departments are dedicated to the study of humor. I didn’t realize this until I was invited to speak at a humor convention being held at one such institution. This honor was apparently based on my work as a writer of epigrams, at least some of which are thought by at least some people to be, in at least some way, funny. 

When you come right down to it, the only way you can really measure funniness is by how much it makes people laugh – although there are some people who, where somebody else might be audibly laughing, will merely say, “That’s funny!” 

However, I’m pleased to tell you that my best memory of that convention was of sitting in a large room in which some of my work was displayed on three sides and to hear one man, going from piece to piece, and, at each one, laughing so uproariously that I could hear him above all the other noises in the room. I never found out his name or had a chance to talk to him. But – as every stand-up comedian knows, there is something satisfying about intentionally making people laugh – because then they are helpless, and you feel you have them in your power.

Speaking of comedians, it’s very strange in what extremes they can flourish and finish up. Lenny Bruce, a fearlessly outspoken voice of the counter-culture, led a troubled life and died at 40 of a drug overdose – while both George Burns and Bob Hope had long, relatively smooth, and highly successful mainstream careers – and both lived to see their 100th birthdays. 

Isn’t that funny!  

 

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