Thursday, July 31, 2014

Let 'em Laugh

Brian and I talk a great deal about Art and Aesthetics. Not just here but amongst ourselves. Through our exploration there of, I've stumbled upon a weird conclusion. Aesthetically, comedy is a strange thing. I feel like its separate from humor and in a lot of ways deserves more respect. Not just because the ability to genuinely make people feel better is immensely valuable, but because of the grace with which they circumvent a loathsome social convention. But I'll get to that, lets go over where comedy diverges from humor first.

Humor is great, I've no intention to down on it. Comedy is just an infinitely superior art. Humor, to my mind, tends to play to general irony and schadenfreude; attempting only to be amusing. Once again, no problem there. Sometimes all you really need is a good laugh. Hell, sometimes humor is funnier than comedy. But comedy is almost always more fulfilling in the end at the end of the set, even if you didn't laugh as hard. I think that's because proper comedy is earnest as fuck.

People tend to not phrase it that way but that is exactly what it is. Comedians take their own states; fears, hopes, joys, hatred, everything, and feed them to us in a way that is not only acceptable, its enjoyable. This started to twist in my head last night watching Q.I. One of the panelists (the incredible Sue Perkins) made a joke about her relationships unerringly observing the law of entropy. Now, I've intentionally relayed this joke in the most boring fucking way I could. Imagine how that kind of thing would sound divested of comic intent. That is essentially saying, "I'm terrified that, due to factors beyond my control, I'm doomed to perpetual loneliness as I repeatedly watch my relationships crumble to dust." That's dark as fuck. If someone you know came up to you and said that, even in the context of a conversation about relationships, chances are you'd awkwardly try to console them whilst frantically seeking ways to flee the scene. If a stranger did it you'd probably just get a panicked, bovine expression and walk away. But a comedian does it and we laugh, we empathize. It's fascinating to me.

The empathy bit is especially important to me because it turns comedy into, not just a shared experience, but a healing experience. Patton Oswalt talks about struggling with his depression and we don't feel so alone. Brian Posehn talks about fighting through insecurity and deep seeded social hangups and we better engage our own bullshit. Now, I understand not everyone interfaces with comedy this way, at least not consciously, but that's true of any art. Its not important to me who falls into what category so much as that its recognized that there's a difference.

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