Is it OK to Laugh?

My husband is a Python. I am not. If you don’t know, Pythons are fans of the British comedy group Monty Python which found its way into U.S. living rooms via their BBC sketch comedy show “Monty Python’s Flying Circus” which aired 1969 to 1974, followed by several very successful movies.

It’s not that I dislike Monty Python, I just never spent as much time with it as my husband has. He’s able to quote them regularly. As I shared in my previous column, I have a show addiction, so when Spamalot was coming to Atlanta during his birthday week it was the perfect gift. This musical, which originally debuted on Broadway in 2005, is a stage adaptation of the 1974 movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

I figured I would surely enjoy it given that Matt Stone and Trey Parker, creators of one of my all-time favorite shows, Book of Mormon, cited Spamalot as a source of inspiration. And I did enjoy it. Yet I must be honest, some of the comedic material from the 1970s made me uncomfortable. The song “You Won’t Succeed on Broadway (without Jews)” struck an antisemitic chord with me. Reading more about that, it was very positively received by the Jewish performers involved in the original show and the Jewish community in NYC at that time. Likewise, I have read many positive statements from the leadership of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints about the show Book of Mormon. I hear my grandma Peggy’s voice in my head, “To each his own.”

The experience got me thinking about comedy as an art form that is such an integral part of our shared cultural experience. We’ve all heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Likewise, humor can look and sound different to different people. How often have two people watched a show and one thinks it’s hysterical, while the other is saying, “that wasn’t funny.”

Contemplating deeper on this topic: is comedy just a matter of personal taste? When does something billed as funny cross into being not ok?  Does it ever? Afterall, I think many would say, if you don’t like it, don’t consume it. I think that’s mostly reasonable.

I’m a big fan of satirical and irreverent humor. This is why I love Book of Mormon and its thematic forebear Southpark, but they certainly are not for everyone! I grew up watching Richard Pryor, George Carlin and Red Foxx. I watched Saturday Night Live religiously and I had much of Eddie Murpy’s ‘Raw’ memorized. In recent times, I’m a Dave Chappelle fan and his show a few years ago was the last standup comedy show I’ve seen live.

Yet, there are times during most of those acts, especially around women jokes, when I’m not laughing. Just as what’s funny is personal, what’s not funny is also personal. Is it an “us vs them” tribal instinct that fuels comedy? Is it funny unless it’s insensitive and hurtful about some part of your lived experience?  Should there be any boundaries?

In an interesting bit of timing, I have been watching the third season of Hacks recently. I was pondering the question of whether all jokes are ok and deciding what I wanted to write about Spamalot, when I watched episode 8. The main character, a 70-ish standup comedian named Deborah Vance, is scheduled to receive an honorary doctorate from her alma mater UC Berkeley. A student protest takes shape about past jokes she has told. She repeatedly says, “You never apologize for a joke.” Her position is valid. Comedy is not only a matter of personal taste. It is contextual. It often taps into and makes light of things that are dwelling in the shared consciousness of audiences.

A recent plane movie I watched was Is this Thing On? (Really liked it by the way). In it Will Arnet is a working Dad who tests out the stand-up comedy circuit. I thought it did a good job showing the vulnerability these performers need to tap into in order to get up in front of a room and attempt to make them laugh. Some bits hit, and some bomb. They have to be willing to keep going. Keep testing. Keep poking to find material that will produce a reaction. The Deborah Vance quote made me think of the movie, and the many comedians I have loved laughing at and with over my lifetime. They have to be willing to take risks to be successful. The desire to not be reflective and not apologize is rational. But is it always right?

What is widely considered funny at one time or in one location, can look and sound horrifically offensive or utterly banal in another setting or to a different set of people. An often-cited example of comedy changing form over time is Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp character in the 1925 movie Gold Rush. He is so poor and hungry the movie famously depicts him treating the consumption of a shoe sole like a fine steak. From all reports I’ve seen, the roaring 20s audiences were laughing loudly at this scene. Yet just a few years later, in the heart of the Great Depression, many lamented how not funny it was to portray poverty in a way that was suddenly all too realistic.  

In Hacks, Deborah’s twenty-something assistant Ava convinces her to meet with the students face-to-face and let them air their objections to her old material. She starts with a brief pro-forma apology and then says she came to listen. She is then confronted with some very emotional stories about how her words had wounded these individuals. Jean Smart plays the scene to convey that her character Deborah is emotionally moved, setting her standup performer persona aside and genuinely connecting with these students in a very human way.

Yes, this is a fictional television show. I’m not suggesting it is a model for all comedy writers and performers to follow. Yet what came to mind is one of my favorite quotes from the brilliant and insightful Maya Angelou: “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.“  It is true that humor is in the heart of the receiver. For me, once I’m aware of the pain certain words are causing, I can’t keep laughing.