Second: I hate having to admit when I don't find something funny. It's not even out of a sense of duty to "all humor" or a respect for anyone that tries. It's just unsettling to watch something that's obviously supposed to be funny but isn't working. Unless there's a clear fix. When I don't know why a joke is failing, I feel suffocated. Probably because of some fear that I could write something and not know that it's a dud.
I haven't watched much of My Name Is Earl. Maybe 80 minutes of it all together. But not once in those 80 minutes have I even chuckled. And it's uncomfortable to admit that I can't tell you why. I can't tell you what's wrong with the show or what's missing.
And so, this isn't a critique. This is related to my comment several months ago on another post:
but when we don't laugh, and insist we do get it, we're lying, and trying to convince people that we know where our spidey sense would have picked up any traces of humor, but they didn't, and that's why the joke isn't funny.
I'm just admitting that I never got My Name Is Earl. And it's not because I'm above it. Everyone knows I'm willing to admit when I think I'm above something.
So I'm not going to say it was "unfunny." I just never laughed.
All guests as listed on shows' web sites at time of posting. Changes in schedule may be reflected in updates.
† …since I listed Baba Booey both last week and again this week.
Was Rachel Maddow's interview with Jon Stewart a success? A friend sent me a message crying out: "He wasn't funny at all," and adding "I lost all of my respect for him."
That's a lie. He wasn't crying out about the lack of humor, just noting it. And he actually wrote "I wasn't sure whether I lost all of my respect for him right then, or started respecting him for the first time ever" in response to Stewart's comment regarding the D.C. rally: "In twelve years, i'd earned a moment to tell people who i was."
So can Stewart be successful even if he isn't funny? Of course he can. Was this his first chance to show himself? I don't think so. But let's not get into an argument about whether comedy is honest, or if all art is a lie. It's pretty clear that he meant that this was a chance to say something without irony.
Stewart and Maddow debated a bit on a more interesting question: are they both 'in the game' as Maddow believes, or is Stewart right when he says he's a spectator, just booing and cheering. I was critical of Stewart several years ago when he complained that Tucker Carlson wasn't living up to a righteous journalistic standard. Stewart excused himself by arguing that on Comedy Central he's flanked by puppets and clowns. The problem I had with that argument was that TV is a single arena, and ultimately neither Stewart nor Carlson can claim to be working in a freer or more ethically liable medium than the other.
Stewart has made a good argument that some programs and organizations misrepresent themselves: that they promise a standard of credibility and a good faith effort that they knowingly don't work towards. And I'll grant him that. He doesn't claim to be important or balanced. He admits his agendas and he warns people not to trust every fact he uses in his commentary.
In this case—his criticism of MSNBC and Fox as two opposing players in a game that he's only watching—I will disagree with his claim of spectator status. They all focus on political powers. All have an agenda. All use the media to push it. All comment on each other. All influence the discourse.
Here's where I agree with Stewart: he's much better at it than the others. All are vocal observers, but as a satirist he is admitting that his take on the issues is influenced by values that not everyone needs in order to be moral. He creates, of himself, a character, and puts himself on a moral level with those he mocks. There is no claim that he is right, only that he cares about his likes or dislikes.
It's telling that Olbermann responded to Stewart's rally mission by assuring his viewers that his efforts on MSNBC are immune to criticism because he is a moral voice.
All of us here at countdown, and a lot of progressives have one major well-defined problem with the rally to restore sanity and or fear…a false equivalence between what we do here, and what Fox news and the like do there.
Well of course he believes what he does is right. That's no argument against Stewart's claim that both channels resort to escalating accusations and inflammatory appeals to the need for fear and division.
Olbermann has further defended his tactics by saying that "sticking up for the powerless is not the moral equivalent of sticking up for the powerful." And of course, hating Fox news automatically means you're sticking up for the powerless. And liking Fox news automatically means you're a racist.
So basically, Stewarts accuses MSNBC of being divisive, and Olbermann responds 'we're not divisive. we're the good guys.'
Olbermann needs to admit that 'Come over to our side' is not an olive branch. And if you think it is, you're really just saying that if the other side doesn't shut up, the disagreement is all their fault.
Stewart's current campaign isn't against ideas, but methods. He's attacking blind spots. He's making the same claim that Ted Koppel makes when he calls the current news machine "an environment that flaunts opinions as though they were facts."
Stewart's success comes from his admission that he's flaunting opinions, and getting people to listen anyway.
A friend who makes me laugh a lot, has told me that he could never be a performer. I think he could go into humor writing. But only if he learns not to get so bogged down with the morality of what he says.
So I watched a little video he made using the xtranormal video template service. And I sent him a rambling note about the power of language to connect and the human capacity to search for the other. He responded: "I was just trying to make a joke."
Yep. We humans are good at connecting.
Here's what struck me about this video. As soon as I started it, I was expecting it to follow the common template of all of these xtranormal videos. Two people talking. One of them sees things as they are. One of them is stuck in a single perspective. The joke comes from the repetition of that perspective no matter what the other person says.
A: I see things this way.
B: There are many other perspectives.
A: I don't care. I like seeing things this way.
B: You need to open your mind to other possibilities.
A: I don't want to. I like seeing things this way.
The success and draw of the template is probably because of the robotic repetition working well with the jagged and robotic intonation. And the calm frustration, or even anger, of the other talking head is stifled by the monotone delivery, creating a nice tension. But it's time for the formula to be put aside. Let's see if we can make up some funny dialogue that doesn't layer the repetition of lines on top of the repetition of a premise.
Expecting him to follow along in that mold, I was surprised and pleased to see that Casey was breaking free from the flock. (As a professor of literature who's also a political conservative, he's getting used to being the spotted lamb.) Even if I inferred a little too much sincerity in Casey's submission, the lines are pretty funny. And I laughed even when I thought he was serious. Enjoy it.
This aren't really blooper outtakes, but just unused takes. Most of them are performed without error, using language that releases evil demons, and is kept safely away from network television.
If you haven't seen the episode that made it to air, it's available on Netflix instant viewing. The simple premise: A company memo is supposed to tell employees they "must not use offensive or insulting language in the workplace." A simple typo changes it so they believe they "must NOW use offensive or insulting language."
You probably remember Myq Kaplan from his success on Last Comic Standing. He's the one the judges kept praising as a joke writer once Laurie Kilmartin was no longer on the show. His style is quick, slick, full of language play, just verging on puns. As his act has developed, he has started to move safely away from being too cute and clever.
He has a Masters in linguistics, so naturally he's drawn to playing with words. And idioms. And I'm guessing Dungeons and Dragons.
Brian Gaar, at It's Always Funny in Austin, talks with Marc Maron about comedy, fame, conversations, and controversy.
Maron:
I’ve been surprised a lot by the conversations I’ve had with a number of people - (Bob) Odenkirk and Rob Delaney and there have been some emotional moments. I mean, the second Mencia (podcast) was pretty amazing and my buddy Sam Lipsyte, who I love, and also the two Louis CK episodes this week were particularly important to me because we were able to rebuild our friendship that had become sort’ve strained and you can sort’ve hear that. So most all of them are good, the only time I’m a little disappointed - and I’m not gonna mention names - is where it’s difficult to have a conversation and that doesn’t happen too often.
The DVD, Jonathan Winters: Rare & Riotous, incudes footage from various Winters performances with other artists. Netflix Instant offers a segment of the DVD, taken from Winters' 1964 special, A Wild Winters Night, with Art Carney. The bulk of the online video features Winters and Carney doing improv prop gags, wig work and a few impressions.
The longest bit is a birthday party for Granny Maude Frickert where Winters (playing Maude, of course) is given random gifts and allowed to riff on them as he opens them. He's also fed set-up lines by the party-goers and, again, allowed to riff on them. It's all pretty obvious, and let's be honest, not always funny.
Some of Winters' better moments come in the form of comments he makes about the other players. They're all supposed to recite set-lines and he's the one that's supposed to get all the attention. One girl asks him, with great earnestness, about his most terrifying experience. At her delivery, Winters, unimpressed, remarks, "Oh, what a dramatic reading." The girl, who all along has been turning to face the camera as often as possible, does another extended reaction take for the camera. Winters, apparently catching on, puts a hand on her shoulder and has to remind her to look at him. All in character of course.
Watching these old shows is a good look at the continuity of improv. By that I mean, that when people complain that Whose Line Is It Anyway? isn't always funny, or that Robin Williams only "seems" funny because he does voices and acts goofy, watching the old masters is good reminder that improv has alway been hit-and-miss.
And the next time someone complains that product placement is taking over, or that commercialism is ruining modern entertainment, show them an old video like this. We can complain about intrusive and out-of-place commercials, but we can't call them new.
I refuse to apologize for mentioning Marc Maron's WTF so often. In my opinion, it's the best one out there, so I might as well act like it. As good as it is on a regular basis, this week stood out. Maron and Louis C.K. were finally reunited.
You don't have to be a fan of comedy to enjoy this one. Buffy only occasionally finds these things interesting (and even when she kindly listens, I can count on her eventually saying in the middle of an argument "well I had to listen to that [whatever] that you played for me a week ago!" But the several clips I played for her from these interviews, were well-received. Even when she started to roll her eyes at one of the clips that she thought was just going to be silly and crass, she soon realized that it was actually a pretty powerful moment.
Maron And C.K. are friends from way back in the last century. They started together and earned their successful careers together. From those salad days, they both developed and matured. And in the process they grew apart, as many very good friends do. The reunion ended up lasting long enough to provide enough for two episodes.
They go over the rift, their careers, the business, writing, family, anxiety… really pretty much everything. And it's not light and fluffy conversation. Maron is alway good at getting his guests to talk honestly, and this visit goes so far as to get some tears flowing on one topic, which includes a really good line from C.K. about the amazing power of water.
He holds little back, talking about the experience of being a stand-up wanting to create more than stage performances, and the doubts and roadblocks he had to walk around, plow thru, or chisel away. He discusses his time writing for Dana Carvey, and Conan O'Brien, and the frustration of doing a well-regarded, tho not always fully-understood show for HBO, Lucky Louie.
TV sitcoms are written by Harvard graduates who don't like audiences. They don't like people. They're not popular people. And so they hate the idea that audiences can tell them whether something's funny or not. So they've built a system where they shoot on a stage in front of an audience but they ignore the audience. …
Most big sitcoms don't have an audience now. And they have a man called the laugh man and he puts in the laughs. And the laughs are short enough…that the clippy dialogue can continue. Jennifer Aniston never looks aware of the audience when she's perf— She's supposed to be performing in front of an audience on Friends. (That's how old I am.)
But uh, we had to hold for laughs, and uh, it was a mess. But it was supposed to be.
C.K. has now achieved the first levels of an auteur. His work is good enough and reliable enough, and his choices are trusted enough to make his show almost completely his own. A big part of that is because he's a good writer and performer. Maybe an even bigger part of that is because he spent time learning how do his own editing and how to switch the lenses on cameras. Not every comedian will get "The Louis Deal." And very few would know what to do with it.
The last few minutes of the whole visit are about as honest an exchange as Maron has had on his podcast. C.K. begins his closing advice about friendship with "You don't have to put this in the podcast if you don't want to," then he goes on to talk about the value, pain, and challenge of friendship. Especially one with Maron. The best thing about WTF week after week, is that Maron leaves so much of that stuff in.
The folks at TMZ are something between parasite and scavenger. Or at least that's how I typically see them. They just roam around looking for bones to pick through. This video shows them being something between a predator, con-artist, and hack comic.
The worst thing about this isn't their misrepresentation of the setup (to the audience) and intention (to Yi): it's that they think it's funny. Despite Yi's complaint, their little stunt might actually help the cause because they give the website and eventually explain the purpose and all that. And who cares if they make Yi look silly? She's being silly. Oxfam doesn't need us to take her seriously.
But they're so proud of their little joke here. And it's just… meh.
