After all, it’s true that no one has ever died from …
I think that most everyone would agree that humor is a subjective thing. I was sitting recently with a bunch of 60-somethings watching an old video clip of comedian Steve Allen. Mixed in were some comic performances by Alan King, Jack Benny, Bob Newhart and George Gobel. They were all really funny - to us. …
I got to thinking why the humor of these older comics made our group laugh and why the same jokes and situations would probably fall flat in front of younger audiences. And then I answered my own question. My father liked Henny Youngman and George Jessel. I didn’t.
Humor, I think, comes largely from context. The comedy that appeals to one particular group won’t necessarily have the same impact on another group that doesn’t share the same cultural context. The audience has to be involved, at least to some degree, in what the comedian is poking fun at. The more the humor relates to the experience of the audience, the more effective it is.
Putting a comedy routine in front of an audience with a different set of cultural norms doesn’t usually translate well. Chris Rock, for example, is a brilliant comic. But much of his material doesn’t connect with older audiences - black or white - because they haven’t shared the same multicultural life experiences common to younger audiences. His jokes can make seniors uncomfortable. Rock goes over well with the under-30 set because he delivers material that they can relate to. It’s not the same for people my age. We look at him and long for Flip Wilson.
Time certainly has a lot to do about how durable comedy can be. A couple of months ago, I watched a television tribute to Bill Cosby. I must say that some of the featured clips in the program that I had laughed at 30 years ago seemed much less funny now. It demonstrates that most humor has a shelf life. Cosby’s facial expressions and noises, always an important part of his shtick, wore pretty thin by the end of the show. Despite the iconic status of the honoree, I sensed that even the presenters were embarrassed by just how dated Cosby’s stuff was.
Certain types of humor can have staying power and intergenerational appeal. Examples might be the kind of material practiced by the Marx Brothers, the Three Stooges and Soupy Sales. Slapstick comedy has a kind of universality that crosses age and cultural barriers. A pie in the face is almost always funny. Lucille Ball’s chocolate candy assembly line routine is just as hilarious now as it was a half century ago because it represents a situation that everyone, regardless of time, place or ethnicity can identify with. We’ve all been there in one way or another.
I’m not sure when comedy became the no-holds barred genre that it is today. Performers like Lenny Bruce, Red Foxx and Andrew Dice Clay were perhaps a bit ahead of their time in this regard, but they spawned the kind of over-the-top humor that seems to dominate performances today.
Maybe we can thank Don Rickles for bringing edgy humor into the mainstream. Once audiences began to laugh at being routinely insulted by performers, the limits of what could be acceptable pretty much disappeared.
In the current climate of comedy, we’re offered a menu of jokes about body parts and human functions of any shade or hue. The language is not only blue but often confrontational and no subject is out of bounds. Kathy Griffin, Sacha Baron Cohen and Margaret Cho now define mainstream humor.
Some people will say that all this is a good thing. I’d be hard pressed to argue with them. After all, it’s true that no one has ever died from laughter. And who wants to mess with freedom of speech.
Me? I’ll take Steve Allen any day.
Jim Coogan is a retired teacher who lives in Sandwich. His column runs every other Tuesday. Reach him at P.O. Box 1181, East Dennis, MA 02641, or e-mail him at coogan206@gis.net.