Testy

Over at Ken Levine's blog he puts up a short scene from The Honeymooners--where Ralph teaches Norton to play golf--and asks his readers if they find it funny. This has gotten, as far as I can tell, the biggest reaction of anything he's ever posted. A surprising number, particularly younger readers who aren't that familiar with the show, don't like it. Their biggest complaint seems to be it's too obvious and they can see the jokes coming.

I'm not about to say all old, beloved comedy is great. Far from it--there's plenty of "classic" stuff I don't like. For that matter, though I'm a fan of Gleason and The Honeymooners, I recognize he was putting on a hour of comedy a week, done live, and it's not all gold. Nevertheless, there are problems with Levine's comedy test.

First, watching an excerpt on your computer is not the best way to judge something. Better to watch it as part of a larger show on a larger screen while you're relaxing. Also, like any sitcom, even when they're doing physical comedy, you don't get anywhere near the full effect until you have some understanding of the characters and the plot.

Second, asking someone if something is funny, rather than just letting them discover it for themselves, is like throwing down the gauntlet. Humor is not best experienced with folded arms.

But the biggest problem is a lot of people don't understand the context of the performance. Gleason and Carney are part of a tradition that goes back thousands of years. They're not just doing material--they're playing comic types. You find such basic types--braggarts, cuckolds, crybabies--in Roman comedy. A few centuries ago, you had these characters in commedia dell'arte, recognizable immediately by their costumes. Audiences expected them to act certain ways, and they even had specific comic routines that could be dropped into any story--what mattered was how the clowns did the routines, not that the routines themselves were original. In modern times you've got burlesque (where Gleason learned his craft), where performers--and often the audience--knew all the sketches, and the top people were the ones who did them best.

Ralph Kramden and Ed Norton are part of this tradition. One is an overbearing, impatient braggart who usually gets his comeuppance, the other a simpleton who tries to help out but messes things up. (They're hardly the first time we've seen this combination. Laurel and Hardy come to mind.)

Now I'm not saying it doesn't matter what writers add to these basic situations. Nor am I saying that Gleason and Carney can't bring new twists to old characters. But to complain you see the joke coming a mile away misses the point. Of course you see it coming. The joy is in watching how well the performers do it, and, sometimes, how they surprise you with something different.

As a writer, I believe in good material (much of which means surprising the audience). But with some comedy, a lot of how it works--or whether it works--is based on the characterization.

Styles change, and what seemed hilarious once might not play as well later. Furthermore, people will always disagree on what's funny. But even so, you can have an informed opinion. I don't know if understanding more about the context in which Jackie Gleason was performing will make you think he's funnier, but I do know if you don't understand why something is supposed to be funny, your opinion means a lot less.