make me laugh!
I feel like the intro to this page should be humorous, but I think I’m all humored out. I’ll make it quick. This project was pretty free form, with the assignment essentially being to make something funny — whether in video, writing, cartoon, or live performance.
humorist study
analysis
I am obsessed with Tim Krieder, and I am obsessed with Fran Lebowitz. I was hesitant to pick two essayists for my comedy analysis — especially given that so much of comedy is performance oriented — but I couldn’t resist. Since that writing is (often) the foundation for performance, I decided that analyzing the craft of comedic essay writing would only serve to open my eyes to the use of similar techniques within other comedic avenues such as stand up, sketches, and cartoons.
Krieder’s essays are as personal as diary entries. His essay collection We Learn Nothing delves deep into an analysis of life and human nature via personal anecdotes about his own choices, experiences, and relationships. The book begins with an Author’s Note stating that, while some names have been changed for privacy reasons, everything else in the book is absolutely true. And then the first sentence of the first essay reads: “Fourteen years ago, I was stabbed in the throat,” followed by, “this is kind of a long story and less interesting than it sounds.” He ends the paragraph by asserting that being stabbed was, in fact, “one of the best things that ever happened to me.” Krieder’s matter of fact tone coupled with his use of understatement, black humor, and irony set the tone for not just the first essay but the entire collection. Throughout the book, Krieder does not shy away from the sensitive or uncomfortable, but dives in with a kind of ruthless, measured, and captivating intelligence which is at once enlightening and incredibly entertaining. His self deprecating humor is refreshingly paired with a cheerful recognition of his immutability, prompting us to think about our own inability to change. As the title suggests, we learn nothing.
Lebowitz is the queen of satire. Acerbically funny in her unrelenting criticism of New York City and its inhabitants (only because nowhere else deserves her attention), Lebowitz’s essay collection, candidly titled The Fran Lebowitz Reader, is structured in short, energetic bursts, with many of the essays less than 5 pages long. Her use of caricature and hyperbole within an invariably dry and matter-of-fact tone only serve to exaggerate the hilarity of her subject matter. Each essay takes a unique form. The book opens with a journal-entry-like timeline of her day, ending with her failure to write the very chapter we are reading. The next consists of a T-chart contrasting the by-products of freedom and repression (advocating, of course, for repression). The next is a multiple choice test for those considering various career paths, including the Pope, absolute political dictator, and social climber. Lebowitz’s judgment of those around her is tempered by subtle acknowledgements of her own flaws. She decries writers who manage to meet their deadlines (she is unable to meet her own), criticizes her model, photographer, and director companions (with whom she is choosing to have dinner), and, above all, derides New Yorkers (a group with which she is necessarily associated).
Both Krieder and Lebowitz analyze human nature. Krieder does so through the lens of his own experiences, while Lebowitz does so through her bedroom window. In both collections, each essay is cleverly tied to the next, lending the books a sense of cohesion which is aided by callbacks and the distinct familiarity of their writing styles. The authors share a wit and intelligence which prompt the reader to laugh, but also to consider their points of view on the different issues they address.
reflection
Junior year of high school gave me a new definition for the word “stressed.” ACT, finals, AP tests, deadlines, and the looming cloud of college applications did not lend themselves to a peaceful state of mind. In my limited free time, I had no desire to watch shows that involved any duress or problems or conflict. For the first time in my life, I started watching and listening to a lot of comedy.
Comedy has always seemed strange to me. Watching people try to make me laugh never made me feel very inclined to laugh. The whole concept felt, to me, weird, forced, and artificial. Far more often, I found myself laughing at books, movies, and shows that slipped in moments of comedy rather than ones in which comedy was the primary focus (the exception being The Office which I had watched in full by this point probably at least 3 times).
The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel was the impetus for my dive into the world of comedy. Although the form of stand up has changed since the 1950s when Maisel is set, the show gave me a much greater appreciation for the comedy and the creative process of piecing together a set.
As spring approached and with it a pile of potentially life trajectory altering examinations, I started watching SNL. This was more to study the craft than to be entertained; I was curious to learn more about comedy and how it worked. However, to my surprise, I found that I was entertained. Just like any other show, as I got to know the cast members and characters, I enjoyed the episodes more. I put on SNL whenever I wanted to smile or relax — which was often. I then moved from SNL to stand up specials and sketch shows on Netflix, and found the same thing: after I got to know the comedians and watched more of their sets, I would derive far more entertainment out of them.
I used to think that comedy was impersonal. It seemed like the characters of comedies were two-dimensional bolts and screws who only existed to make a joke work, and that any and all issues were grossly oversimplified for the sake of a laugh.
I was wrong. Comedy is a deeply personal thing. Stand up comedians discuss their lives, their relationships, their most painful, embarrassing, and frustrating experiences. Sketch writers keenly observe the world around them, picking out moments of absurd and surprising relatability, things everyone knows but few notice. Comedy has the power to shed light on our differences, but even more so our similarities. One joke can make a whole room laugh because of shared experience, perspective, and observation. Caricatures of people and events are not meant to gloss over the complexity of life but rather to help us notice things we ordinarily can’t see.
I like my comedy delivered to me via the Trojan Horse of anecdotes. Comedians such as Tim Krieder or Fran Lebowitz (or Larry David or Dave Chappelle or John Mulaney) start out with anecdotes, specific, personal, and seemingly trivial, that then expand to include all of us, prompting us to consider the people and situations in our own lives which parallel theirs. This form of comedy, to me, is both funny and thought provoking. I enjoy callbacks, which help me feel a sense of trust and rapport with the comedian and make clear the thought and intention behind the work. Wit and satire are my preferred subgenres; biting comedy that can unpack or analyze something in a clever way as well as making me laugh always leaves me with a feeling of satisfied delight. More than anything, I like comedy that makes me feel a connection to the comedian or the other audience members (people watching the show, reading the book, or listening to the set along with me), preferably both. Not only does connection make the jokes funnier, but it leaves me with the lovely aftertaste of shared humanity.
essay…turned performance
I wrote an essay… and then decided it would be very boring to get up in front of the class to just read off of a piece of paper. So that essay became a stand-up routine. My performance is below 🙂