Comedians Aren't Funny

I sincerely miss sincerity.

I think sincerity was before my time, as I do not recall ever having an exchange that did not include sarcasm, irony, cynicism, and/or dry wit. And the Saharan level of dry wit has become so extreme that even the closest of friends often cannot decipher each other’s encoded meanings. (Sidenote: Is witty banter insincere? It can be, if it distracts the conversation from what really should be said, but which instead goes un-verbalized) I would like to think that the increased use of these verbal tactics is a sign of increased complexity in communication, providing a plethora of new ways to speak our thoughts. But I’ve begun to question if any of this is actually helping us communicate, or if it is merely leading to more distance, both between our words and our meaning, and between each other (Sappy? Trite? These are risks).

I spend a large amount of time with stand-up comedians, a class of folk entirely consumed with wit, sarcasm, irony, and the rest of the day’s set of tools. I have worked for a management company representing them, been to hundreds of comedy shows, filmed hours upon hours of footage of them onstage, and shared countless hours in their amusing company. During a conversation with a non-comedy-scene friend a few weeks ago, she asked me a few simple questions about some of my comedy-world associates. What were their goals? What did they do with their time other than comedy? I found I couldn’t answer for most of these people. I wouldn’t call most of these comics “close friends” or anything, but how could I know them for over a year, and not have this ever come up in conversation? What were we saying to each other, over those countless hours of hanging out, and even more countless beers (or gin & tonics, depending on their poison)?

I recently finished a 20-minute documentary about those comedians. I interviewed each of them, and asked them about their comedy, and their lives, and their aspirations. And what I discovered was… it wasn’t funny. My resulting film wasn’t a light-hearted affair. Their interviews revealed potential for failure, acknowledgement of limitations, overcoming inadequacies, finding an outlet after a parent’s death…  As I type this, I’m fighting the urge to make a joke. No, not a joke, but something to take the edge off. Not because I’ve thought of something relevant and clever, but because I feel the need to add levity to the tone of this paragraph. I feel vulnerable with this straightforward approach. I am easier to judge.

I am sincerely uncomfortable.