Several months ago, I saw some classic “Popeye” cartoons from the 1930s in a theater with 100 other people. I’ve always respected “Popeye” as a pioneering character but never much cared for him myself. Yet, there was something about sitting in a full house, in the dark, surrounded by laughing adults and children, that instantly recalibrated my opinion. I thought the cartoons were creative and clever. Most importantly, I laughed.
Sometimes I’ll share something I find hilarious with someone, only to have them sit in stony silence. Suddenly I don’t think it’s nearly as funny, either. “Wait, the best part is coming up! Give it another minute!” When you start explaining the jokes, you’ve lost.
Comedy is such a delicate thing. Comedians will tell you that every audience is different, and material that’s a hit one night can bomb the next. Humor that slays in an intimate club dies in a cavernous auditorium, and vice versa.
It’s a wonder anything manages to be funny at all.
I’ve also noticed that my sense of humor has evolved. I’ve always been drawn to silliness and pratfalls in addition to “cerebral” humor, but I think I now appreciate gentleness and whimsy more than I used to.
For example: In Laurel and Hardy’s film “Way Out West,” the boys did a famous dance routine that, when I was younger, I would have found insipid and boring. Now? I love it unreservedly and unironically. It’s sweet and funny and makes me smile every time. You?
* * *
PLEASE SUBSCRIBE! I am sharing these little "250 Words On" essays via Substack, which will email a new one to your In Box every Tuesday morning. Just follow this link and enter your email address. It's free, and I promise to never use your address for evil purposes.
No comments:
Post a Comment