This just applies to comedies — dramas are a different animal — but most comedies aren’t funny. They just aren’t. Now you could say it’s subjective, and that’s very true, but in most cases (especially with short plays), I don’t even see where the laughs are supposed to be.
So I propose this exercise when you write an intended comedy. This is what I do all the time.
Imagine an audience watching your play. They have to all be strangers. No fair having your mother or boyfriend who’s dying to get laid in the front row. Or “Uncle Myron” who laughs at everything.
Total strangers.
They can be your target audience. You don’t have to bus in state convicts or QAnon idiots. No one has has to have an oxygen tank. But you can’t write a play about blacksmiths and fill the audience with a hundred blacksmiths. Play fair.
Total strangers.
You’re allowed to assume it’s a decent crowd willing to laugh out loud. If you have a bad crowd then nothing is funny. NOISES OFF would die a horrible death. So it’s an audience that will give you a fair shake if you present them with something genuinely funny.
You’re also allowed to assume you have a good cast and director. I said “good”, not “great.” Some actors like David Hyde Pierce and Betty White can get laughs out of middling material. Again, play fair. Chances are you won’t have David Hyde Pierce. Don't count on actors to save you.
Now imagine your play (or spec script) playing to this audience. And be brutally honest with yourself. Where do you see them actually laughing? And what kind of laugh is it? Is it a smile more than a laugh? Is it a hip line that only a few will appreciate? Ideally, how many laughs are there? Do you go three or four pages between any laughs? Are the first five pages all set-up and no laughs until the payoffs? Are the payoffs big enough?
Are there opportunities for laughs that are missed? Do you just skirt over comic possibilities? Is there more to be mined from a certain comic moment?
How many laughs are sufficient for you? Are the laughs big enough?
At this point you might be saying, “Jesus! That’s a lot of pressure you’re putting on me,” and I would say, “YEP.” But that’s comedy writing. People say, “Just please yourself. Just write what’s funny to you.” I say: “Bullshit!” You’re not writing for you; you’re writing for them.
In reality, unless you have a super hot crowd (and you get those from time to time), not every laugh you imagined will be realized. But if most don’t, or if your projected big ones don’t, then it’s time to blame yourself, not the audience. But the good news is — if you’re being truly honest with yourself — you can accomplish that before the world sees your play. Consider each draft a tryout week in New Haven without having to suffer through bad reviews.
Try it. It’s a great Litmus test. Your comedies will improve considerably. Or you’ll give that “drama” thing a try. But you'll know.
Best of luck.
from By Ken Levine
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