Giving some actors Twitter accounts is like giving a monkey a gun.
I also, in that post, talked about how I constantly try to beat jokes (i.e. come up with better ones).
One of the joys of this blog is the comments section and the contributions that you guys make every day. On this one day a reader, in the spirit of fun, tried to beat my monkey joke, suggesting it might be funnier if I used ferret or penguin.
Others wrote in saying ferrets and penguins don’t have hands. How would they hold a gun? That’s why I used monkey they speculated.
I try not to get in the middle of these discussions. I’d rather hear what you all have to say.
But let me weigh in here because I can use it as a lesson in comedy.
First, let me thank the original reader for his suggestion. Both ferret and penguin are funny animals. And in other circumstances they probably would work better than monkey.
But I did use monkey because a monkey has hands. For a joke to work, the image has to be instantly clear. If it suggests an ambiguous image then you’re in trouble. You can picture a monkey holding a gun instantly. But penguins and ferrets have no hands. What would that look like? If you have to squeeze an image into an unnatural pose you lose that immediate identification. And if your first reaction is “Huh?” Or if you have to take ten seconds to try to create the image – the moment is gone and you’ve lost the laugh.
And in that particular joke it’s not just the monkey that has to be right. What if I said this?
Giving some actors Twitter accounts is like giving a monkey a knife.
With a gun it’s crystal clear what he could do with it. He could shoot it. With a knife the monkey could stab someone. But he could also use it to cut bananas off a tree, or chop something, or cut off his other hand. Too many options. If he had a grenade he could throw it (which would make the joke work), but he could also hold it and blow himself up – and both of those possibilities only arise if he’s smart enough to pull the pin first. That’s a lot of steps.
Now you could say specificity is key in comedy. Why just use a gun? Why not a derringer? Or an AK-47? The question becomes, what do those add to the joke? In this case, any gun will do. Specifying a Baretta causes the listener to go “Why a Baretta? What is so special about that gun? Why did he pick that gun over another type?”
Most times specificity does add to the joke, but there are times it might cloud it.
It’s all about the set-up; in this case a visual one. The set up prepares the audience to think one very clear image, and then gives it a twist.
These kinds of questions go into every joke I write. On the one hand, I don’t try analyze every joke to death, but I’m always going “This is what I want the audience to think, have I prepared them properly? Is there a better word or image that would achieve that? Does it require too much effort on the audience’s part? Am I providing too much information? Might there be other unwanted interpretations that send them in the wrong direction?”
So often when I say I try to beat a joke, I’m not just changing the punchline, I’m changing the set up.
And that’s class for today. Remember, your term papers are due next Wednesday.
from By Ken Levine
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