Overview of comic performance
Youâre not doing comedy if nobody laughs.
(John Wright, 2007: 5)
Introduction
So, you are performing in a comedy? Should you approach the performance of it any differently? From inside the acting profession the knee-jerk response is often a horrified âno!â while theories on performance and acting theory tend to remain strangely non-committal on the matter. But dig a little deeper and it soon becomes clear that, due to the different formulations and expectations of non-comic and comic forms of drama, subtle differences in the manner of their performance are required. Do exactly the same received ârulesâ and theories of performance really apply to the practice of comedy as pertain to âseriousâ, âtragicâ, âstraightâ or non-comic forms of drama? For the performer, as, for example, the actress Frances de la Tour explained in an interview, âif you can do comedy, you can do tragedy. If you can do tragedy, you canât necessarily do comedyâ (in Walsh, 2015: 27). Certainly, however, favoured traditional theories of acting and performance do not seem to differentiate the practice of performing comedy, and, from the perspectives of the performer or director, texts on how to approach the art of performance often disregard the doing of comedy completely. Those influential modern European performance gurus who have dominated Westernised thinking on the practice of drama (e.g. Constantin Stanislavski and his âSystemâ, Lee Strasberg and âThe Methodâ, Jerzi Grotowski and the âPoorâ Theatre, Bertold Brecht and the âEpicâ Theatre, or Peter Brook and the âEmpty Spaceâ) do not appear to draw any differences between the performance of comic and non-comic forms of drama. But accepted acting theory concepts such as the exploration of âemotional memoryâ, the uncovering of âsubtextâ, or the presentation of âgestusâ as a means of presenting emotional or intellectual truths in dramatic form do not quite fit the practice of doing comedy so satisfactorily. So, in short, the means to create the representation of comic and non-comic dramatic âtruthsâ are usually accepted to be the same. And that is the end of story.
And yet ⌠and yet ⌠performing comedy is different. By its very nature, comic performance has unique properties. For, basically, if what you, the actor or director, present to the audience is not funny, or it fails to provoke amusement, even actual laughter, in the audience, then that performance has not been effective. As Armando Iannucci, the creator of The Thick of It (BBC, 2005â) and the film In the Loop (Iannucci, 2009) observed in an interview, âif itâs not funny ⌠itâs been a waste of time. There isnât a noise that you make during drama that says âI really like this dramaâ. Whereas with comedy, itâs instantâ (in Patterson, 2009: 9).
Comic performance requires the provocation of amusement (the stimulation of a humorous response) in an audience. Other forms of dramatic presentation do not. So, in that one simple respect, comic performance must take a unique form and requires the practice of specific, pertinent skills from the performer (and director) to create the required effects. Indeed, practitioners themselves often concede that comedy is actually âharderâ to do. As the American actress Elaine Stritch noted, âcomedies are a lot harder and more stressful to play than serious parts. As Neil Simon says âDying is easy, comedy is hardâ (in Luckhurst and Veltman, 2001: 141).
This book is, therefore, an attempt to place comic performanceâs special formulations at the centre of the actorsâ and directorsâ practice and to redress the neglect that comic performance, taken as a separate phenomenon, has traditionally experienced within performance studies. Too often the performersâ contribution to the successful transmission of a comedy has been ignored or even denigrated. Indeed, the mistrust of âactingâ that pervades in modern performance culture (especially in film or television) means that you may well be told that the lines or situation are âfunny enough in themselvesâ and all that is required of you, the actor, is just to say them. The falsehood there is that the text will take care of itself and the actorâs interpretation of the part is somehow secondary. The nonsense of such a statement is illustrated in film and TV âremakesâ where the same lines and situations do not necessarily always âtake care of themselvesâ when another performer interprets them. Any takers for, say, the 1970 remake of Laughter in Paradise? The 1996 UK remakes of the Hancock TV shows? The 2011 remake of Arthur? That the performances â the interpretersâ playing of the role â provide a huge part in assuring the effectiveness of the comedy is, surely, indisputable.
Features that define comic performance will be suggested throughout this book, and these will be supplemented with exercises for the performer, director or facilitator to help you find â and practice the doing of â comic performance. A chapter on the role that audience âinterplayâ takes within âtruthfulâ comic performance follows along with chapters on working as part of an ensemble; on the use of rhythm and timing; on working with comic text; on acting in film, television and sitcom formats, plus one containing advice from practitioners. All of these chapters will encourage you to become a reflective practitioner â that is, someone who:
⢠reviews their practice both during and after the event;
⢠applies potential improvements to their practice based on observation of the effect of their performance;
⢠in collaboration with their co-performers, applies changes as a result of witnessing the evolving effects;
⢠continues the cycle of practitioner doing, reviewing, redoing and re-reviewing throughout the performance process.
In this book, there is a difference made between acting and performance. The sociologist Erving Goffman (1959) used the term âactingâ for everything we do in everyday life, while the Theatre Workshop director Joan Littlewood (1994: 199) pronounced:
Everybody can act ⌠arenât we all acting most of the time? Performing is something different. Our politicians, popes, barristers and rabble rousers are all actors, but con-men, spies, crooks and plain-clothes policemen are even better. What is a good actor? Part priest, part poet, part clown.
Theatre or television acting, therefore, is, at its most basic, simply the presentation of what people do â a representation of a state of being. You will find that television and film directors are, sometimes, suspicious of âactorsâ, as they fear any perceived âtheatricalityâ, viewing this as mere overemphasis. They sometimes think that all that they crave is some form of simple representation of being â and would often prefer to hire an actual butcher, baker, candlestick-maker, criminal, mother or vicar, rather than employ a performer to play the role! Sometimes, anything that smacks of performance is simply an anathema to directors for the screen. However, where this comes unstuck for them is when the real butcher or baker is required to act anything other than their occupational role. Playing real feelings or emotions and prompting a reaction through representation of these (this includes inducing amusement or laughter) is the skilled job of the performer. The ârealâ person cannot always reproduce the dramatic or comic moments that enliven any text in the way that the script requires, so performers are, albeit sometimes warily, employed to impersonate the characters required.
Acting, therefore, in its simplest sense of âbeingâ or âimpersonatingâ is something that everyone can do. It is something, indeed, that we all do all of the time.
Performance, however, is not something that everyone can do. It is, instead, a case of manifesting authentic states of more complex human âbeingâ. It is the ability to create interactions, reactions, provocations and responses. The performer must convey meanings, ones that are often hidden or sublimated, to other humans, through the media of screen or stage. Not everyone can do this.
Any worries about âperformanceâ in the media are also somewhat different in theatre where acting (in the sense of replicating behaviours) is more clearly needed to get the messages across. Here, both acting and performance are required.
Performance, then, for the purposes of this book, specifically means a professional mastery of those skills and expertise that will enhance a comic text. It means the conscious display of intercommunicative, representational skills which the actor can deploy to cause an effect, specifically, in this case, in the doing of comedy. Discussion of these skills will centre mainly round how they feature in live situations, that is, as in the theatre context. It will be argued that these skills need not be overt or made noticeable to the audience, and, indeed, some of the craft of the actor is in hiding these skills, making them appear innate and natural.
In short, what follows aims to illustrate the differences between comic and non-comic performance forms, how comic performance works in practice, and how the actor and director might develop the repertoire of acting skills that are required to produce effective comic performance. This chapter also provides a summary overview of the key themes involved in performing in comedy which will then be explored in more detail throughout the chapters that follow.
INDIVIDUAL EXERCISE
Textual clues
Try reading out different selected serious dramatic and comic speeches and extracts and contrasting them. See how much or how little âperformanceâ or acting is needed to make the text work and âcome aliveâ. Ask yourself which texts require the most extra performance skills to lift them off the page? For example, try firstly reading aloud â and without intonation â the dramatic text of Shakespeareâs Macbeth speech:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Lifeâs but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
(Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5)
Now contrast this with the Porterâs speech from the same play:
Knock, knock, knock! Whoâs there iâthe name of Belzebub? Hereâs a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty. Come in time! Have napkins enow about you; here youâll sweat forât. (Knock).
Knock, knock! Whoâs there in the other devilâs name? Faith, hereâs an equivocator that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason for Godâs sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven. O, come in, equivocator. (Knock).
Knock, knock, knock! Whoâs there? Faith, hereâs an English tailor come hither for stealing out of a French hose. Come in, tailor: here you may roast your goose. (Knock).
Knock, knock! Never at quiet! What are you? â But this place is too cold for hell. Iâll devil-porter it no further. I had thought to have let in some of all professions that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. (Knock).
Anon, anon! I pray you remember the porter.
(Macbeth, Act 2, Scene 3)
Experiment with adding extra performance layers, for example, vary your vocal intonation, add gestural touches, or try âlighteningâ or âdarkeningâ the interpretation. Which type of text requires more âperformanceâ layers to be communicated effectively?
Try this experiment with other âseriousâ and âcomicâ excerpts from plays of different genres to test out whether comic text needs more performance to bring the script fully to life.
Amusing the audience
Firstly, it is perfectly true that comedy should be played as âseriouslyâ as any other form of drama. Comedy, as a performative art, is as ârealâ in, and of, itself as any other form of theatre. In comedy, your performance must still serve the wider âmessageâ of the play, sitcom, radio drama or film. However, comic performance is an activity that, fundamentally, is intended to amuse an audience. It is an experience that is crafted to be something enjoyable that should make the spectators smile or laugh. In executing comic performance, a link between the player and the audience is formed. The audience provides both the expectation of and a response through laughter, while the performer must somehow be aware of this live interchange from the audience and respond, in turn, to their response. The actorâs awareness of potential laughter is still necessary when acting in television or film, even where no live audience may be present. It is in the interchange between performer and spectator where comic performance most often comes fully to life. It is the audienceâs response to the stimulus created by the actor(s) that is the defining feature of comedy and is that which makes comic performance different to non-comic forms. Comedy works within a world of a mutual consciousness of the performersâ attempts to inspire each audienceâs laughter. To create this cause and effect, to a large extent, the comic performer creates and relies on a peculiar form of interplay with the audience. As Peter Thomson notes, âthe comic actor is always in collusion with the spectatorsâ (2002: 141). The performer operates within a unique state of permissible âtruthâ within an accepted pretence. Laughter is the mutual reward and is also the indicator (to both performer and audience) of the effectiveness of the performance.
In the following chapter, we will investigate further how this form of complicity, empathy or interplay â âthe interchange between actor and audienceâ (Mamet, 1998: 56) â can be created and established while still maintaining the comic âtruthâ of the situation or plot. On purely practical grounds, for you, the ...