A comedy routine should make us laugh.
Hollywood film stars of the 1920’s and ‘30s wrote the book on comedy.
Most learned their craft during the silent film era.
And in the ‘30s,
they found that, when you added sound, the art of making people laugh hadn’t really changed.
There are some basic rules.
The best knew that, often, words aren’t required.
A raised eyebrow or a shrug of the shoulders can bring down the house.
Threats of violence are funny if only they are ridiculous.
And the ‘bad guys’ can’t look powerful.
They should be depicted as they often are in real life: as pompous gas bags who are ‘full of themselves.’
Absurd always works.
And nothing endears a comedian to his audience more than when he becomes his own, unwitting victim.
People will laugh at the joke but they will also identify with it.
Everybody has moments when they become their own worst enemy.
The same goes for slapstick.
We all fall down and get smacked.
So when a comedian does it in an exaggerated way, we can relate.
Have these rules changed?
I don’t think so.
Good comedy reveals the commonality of people.
In so many ways, we are alike.
We laugh at antics that we, too, have engaged in on a lesser scale.
So, we laugh at ourselves in a way that doesn’t hurt.
And, at the end of the comedy routine, we feel good.
We’ve been shown a slice of life.
Even with all of our differences, we all sit in the same boat.
Some of us row. Some of us pray. Some of us sit and shiver in the cold.
But we all yearn for the safety of the shore.
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I’ll see you tomorrow.
— Brenda
Film photos from IMDB.
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