Freud believed there were two types of jokes – the
tendentious and the non-tendentious. The non-tendentious joke is innocent, which
Freud believed didn’t make us laugh as much as the tendentious joke that
provokes laughter from sexual or violent humour. Anthony Storr, an English
psychiatrist, believes that the tendentious joke is a way of “bypassing the
barriers against the direct expression of both obscenity and aggression which
civilisation has set up” (1989: 87). By examining two silent films starring Buster
Keaton and Charlie Chaplin, I will explore why the tendentious humour of
vaudeville and slapstick comedy make us laugh. Simon Critchley argues that it
is “having a body” that makes us laugh, which I will discuss in relation to the
varying control Keaton and Chaplin seem to have over their bodily functions,
through engaging with the idea of the body as a machine and the body as an
organism. The commentary these films make on the industrialisation and advances
in cinematic technology will be discussed in relation to the physicality used
by both Keaton and Chaplin in the films Sherlock
Jr. and Modern Times. Finally, I
will discuss how Keaton and Chaplin embody aspects of Terrie Wadell and Lewis
Hyde’s idea of ‘Trickster’ in relation to the carnivalesque atmosphere they
create through using their bodies to create humour.
Modern Times was
made in 1936 during the great depression, which Chaplin believed was created by
the efficiency of the industrialisation taking jobs away from people, and a
dependency on machines. Sherlock Jr.
was made in 1924, during the cinematic boom of Hollywood, with Vaudeville
humour being directly translated from the theatre to the screen. The advances
in cinematic technology are seen in the camera work and dynamism of the
narrative, relying as much on clever camera control as the acrobatic ability of
Buster Keaton. The shift from the verbal theatrical performances to the
non-verbal silent film, (Modern Times
isn’t a silent film, but there is minimal dialogue) highlights the necessity for
the body to create humour, whilst relying on the machine to capture the image.
The symbiosis between machine and actor permeates the performances of Keaton
and Chaplin through creating machine-like gestures.
The machine-like body is like a puppet in that the comic
figure doesn’t seem like a full person but more of an imitation of a person.
Through the imitation, we are made hyper-aware of the body, the incongruity of
which makes us laugh. One example of this is the scene in Sherlock Jr. when Keaton shadows the Sheikh down the street,
copying his every move. Initially, we laugh at the height difference between
the two characters, the age difference and their clothing, however as the gag
continues, it is the rigidity of Keaton’s movement in unnatural synchronicity
with the Sheikh that makes us laugh, shown through the closeness with which he
is able to follow him, whilst the Sheikh apparently remains unaware. The Sheikh
stops abruptly in the road to avoid a car, leaning forward as he does so, and
Keaton leans forward with him. The Sheikh takes a step to one side, and so
Keaton follows in time. The repetitiveness of Keaton’s movements blurs the
lines between being human and machine, which is reflected in the fact this is
the first scene in which the camera moves with the actors. It is as though as
Keaton begins to possess machine-like qualities, the camera increases the
illusion of reality. The machine-like movements would have been achieved
through rigorous rehearsal, highlighting the acrobatic control Keaton has over
his body, whilst this scene attempts to create humour through presenting the
body as unlike itself. There is a loss of self/identity, which produces an
incongruity that makes us laugh.
In comparison, Modern
Times attempts to show how the machine and the body are merging completely and
the negativity that surrounds reliance on machines that are not always better
than humans. The scene to be discussed begins with the controller being offered
a test trial of a machine that will increase productivity by eliminating the
lunch-hour. The machine works by feeding the men as they work, with no need for
interaction, as food is pushed and poured into the workman’s mouth before being
wiped away. At first the machine seems to work efficiently, however it begins
to malfunction by pouring the soup all over Chaplin, spinning the corn cob too
fast whilst pressing it against his mouth, and constantly patting his mouth
down with the antiseptic contraption that reminds one of a persistent and
oblivious child-minder. Through the machine’s inability to recognise the bolts
that have replaced the canapés, Chaplin critiques the lack of humanity of the
machine, and places a defective humanity on it as it becomes more human through
its weakness. We laugh because the machine isn’t acting like a machine, just
like when we laugh at Keaton’s rigid physicality because his body isn’t acting
like a human body. Chaplin’s factory scene progresses to Chaplin becoming so
ingrained with the tightening bolts that he cannot shake the machine-like
movement, and becomes obsessed with making sure the moving assembly line is
complete. This obsession leads to him falling into the machine itself, and
there is an iconic moment where he is fed through the cogs of the machine,
almost becoming part of the machine itself. From being accosted by a defective
machine to being swallowed and incorporated into one, Chaplin’s commentary on
industrialisation critiques the lack of humanness of machines, and portrays a
negative image of how technology is swallowing our humanity and individuality,
making our bodies cogs in their greater workings.
The comic incongruity derives from our expectation of the
body to act like a body, when in fact Keaton and Chaplin perform these sketches
in relation or similar to machines. The body as a machine makes us laugh
because when the actors pretend not to be human, we are made aware of our own
bodies, how imperfect they are, and the machine-like gestures draw attention to
our own clumsiness. The awkwardness with which we inhabit our bodies makes us
laugh, according to Critchley, who argues that humour works through “a play of
distance and proximity, where the reader has their nose rubbed in the physical
object being described, but in a manner that is remote and resolutely
unsentimental” (2002: 45). This can be explored in relation to Chaplin using
slapstick comedy to bring attention to the dangers of relying on machines, as
well as Keaton’s machine-like gestures highlighting the advances of cinema.
We laugh when our bodies do things of their own accord
because it seems as though they are out of our control. Bodily functions like
sex, defecation and digestion create comedy from the most basic quality of
being socially unacceptable, in other words, tendentious. Critchley believed
that the body cannot be controlled, and that the abject body in humour doing
rude things that are degrading and clumsy, makes us laugh. It is the pompous
man farting as he bows that tickles us because we are made aware of how out of
control of our own bodily functions we actually are. The involuntary actions
that are unexpected trigger laughter such as Keaton falling on the banana skin,
because he doesn’t plan for it to happen. Keaton is given a banana by the
Sheikh as the Sheikh attempts to woo the girl. Keaton takes the banana away and
sits down, suddenly thinking of a genius plan to eat the banana and throw the
peel on the ground for the Sheikh to fall on. He calls the Sheikh over, but he
stops just short of the skin, leaving Keaton visibly frustrated. As Keaton
see’s the Sheikh begin to kiss the girls hand, Keaton jumps up in anger,
forgetting his carefully laid trap and falls head over heels, landing on his
back before doing a further backwards roll. Keaton’s elasticity in his movement
derives from the vaudeville performances he was involved in with his parents
from the age of five. The Three Keaton’s
performed clown-like stunts where Keaton would mimic his father, who would lose
his temper and throw the child around, usually with acrobatic finesse, but
sometimes, due to his father’s drinking, the show ended in injuries. The idea
of slapstick and vaudeville humour is that the exaggerated aggression causes
laughter because we are aware it causes very little harm, however in the case
of Sherlock Jr. there was a scene
where Keaton broke his neck and continued to film, not realising he had majorly
injured. We are often told it is “thoughtless” to laugh at the misfortune of
others, which is right. If we were to think about the pain inflicted on the
actor, we would feel sympathy or a similarly consumptive emotion. And emotion
kills laughter. There is a momentary apprehension at seeing Keaton slip on the
banana skin until we remember it is a gag and laugh with relief. Critchley
argues, “We laugh because we are troubled by what we laugh at, because it
somehow frightens us” (2002: 56-57), which conflicts with my earlier argument
that emotion kills laughter. However, what Critchley argues is that we are
laugh in order to replace our fear, which is why tendentious jokes are often
laughed at despite their violent or inappropriate content.
The medium of film legitimises our laughter at the pain
because we are assured by the fictional safety of the characters. In the
fictional world of the film, the boy will be ok. The body acting like its own
separate entity makes us laugh at the absurd nature of being out of control.
The reality is that Keaton rehearsed his rolls, flips and falls, and was safe
throughout the majority of his gags. This raises the question of whether we
would laugh if Keaton was in real danger. It seems as through his body is
unbreakable, so we laugh at the caricature Keaton creates, the physical comedy
forming excessive characteristics that become unreal, and therefore separate to
ourselves. We are unable to relate to his body, and therefore laugh at the body
we cannot have.
Keaton and Chaplin perform ‘Trickster’, creating a
carnivalesque atmosphere that breaks down social hierarchy to create laughter.
They use their bodies to expose the weaknesses we all experience in order for
communal laughter to bring the audience together, however these ‘weaknesses’
are performed through a high level of control, embodied in the energy of the
trickster. Terrie Wadell, in her book wild/lives,
writes that ‘Trickster’ is an archetype of “transformation and liminality”
(2010: xi). In Sherlock Jr. Keaton is
simply called ‘the boy’, the generic name removing him to the realm of parody,
beyond ordinary identification. Wadell argued that this archetype is an
unconscious energy that is altered when it is brought into the conscious sphere
and is recognised (2010: 2), which can be explored in relation to the
dream-sequence in Sherlock Jr. where
the double exposure of Keaton creates a ghost like figure who, in a surreal
twist, is able to cross into the film being projected in the auditorium,
disrupting the spatial and temporal unity of the film we watch. This idea of
‘Trickster’ is explored further by Hyde, who argued that a ‘Trickster’ doesn’t
live in one place, rather he “passes through each… when there is a moment of
silence, and he enlivens each with mischief” (2008: 6), oddly applicable to
Keaton’s ability to cross into the film. When Keaton’s ghost-like double, or
‘Trickster’ becomes a part of the film, the setting changes, creating
situations that are made funny by the fact it is Keaton’s body that remains
constant, enlivening each empty landscape or setting with his physical humour.
In this scene, what is funny is Keaton’s ability to create humour from his body
being present throughout the location changes.
The carnivalesque environment allows ‘Trickster’ to be
performed because of the ability to parody realism, as shown in the
self-reflexivity of the banana skin gag. Keaton parodies the tired sketch by
showing how it doesn’t work anymore; his mind expects the trick to succeed, but
his body fails by slipping on it. The carnivalesque is present in cinema
because, as Stam writes, cinema grew up “in the shadow of the side show” (1989:
113), with the cinema and the fairground being situated near each other. The
physicality of theatre was directly transported from stage to screen, with the
light-hearted approach to violence coming with it. Stam goes on to argue that
this attitude towards violence “reflects a carnivalesque strategy of radical
simplification aimed at the unmasking and ridiculing of the hypocrisies of a
Power stripped of all euphemism” (1989: 108). This idea is as relevant to
Chaplin’s critique of industrialisation as it is to Keaton’s exposition of our
human pomposity. Keaton used physical humour to bring the audience to an equal
level, using laughter to form a consciousness free of dogmatism. Henri Bergson,
a 20th century French philosopher, in his essay on the meaning of
the comic, argued that comedy is about sociability, “our laughter is always the
laughter of the group” (1901: 4), laughter is based upon differences, exclusion
and a sense of belonging. We are able to laugh at the violent physical comedy
of Keaton and Chaplin because they are so immortal in their apparent ability to
avoid pain, that they are unidentifiable to us. The humour of the body then, in
this case, is used as a social masquerade to critique a wider problem, as
‘Trickster’ is an energy that is able to disrupt normality and confuse our
distinctions between our social dualisms, like the body as the machine and the
body as an organism.
While Critchley believes what is funny in finality is
having a body, for Bakhtin, according to Stam, the body is “a festival of
becoming, a plurality, not a closed system but a perpetual experiment” (1989:
157). The varying control Keaton and Chaplin pretend to have over their body as
an organism or as a machine, creates a comic effect through their ‘Trickster’
performance. Comedy has the unique privilege to draw attention to seriousness
in a way tragedy cannot. Keaton draws our attention to the body as an uncontrollable
force through his presentation of the body as n organism, while Chaplin shows
how our dependence on technology is detrimental to our health and society by
presenting the body as becoming part of the machine.
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