Should We Take Comedy Seriously?
In recent years, there seems to have been an uptick in the level of public scrutiny towards popular comedians. As conversations about major issues like privilege and inequality have become increasingly relevant in today’s socio-political climate, many observational comics have in turn begun increasingly discussing these same topics in their standup material.
Naturally, when such visible people bring up such important topics, the result is that it often gets incorporated into the national dialogue. Comedians are either praised for their sound-minded insights as positive examples of a popular sentiment; or they are lambasted and held up as an example of what is wrong with modern society, or labeled as being part of a larger issue. Of course, in many if not most cases, both reactions happen simultaneously on either side.
None of this is surprising. Public figures make public statements, and these statements are heard and interpreted by people all over the world. But a comedian is a unique kind of public figure. When virtually any other person speaks publicly about an issue, it is collectively understood that they mean what they say. Even Hollywood actors, who may say outrageous things while playing a character, will generally avoid public outcry unless they also happen to say something objectionable as themselves. When Brad Pitt says he loves “killin’ Nat-zees,” nobody takes this to mean that Brad Pitt loves killing Nazis. Everyone understands this is merely the viewpoint of the character in Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds, so — even though moviegoers indeed see Brad Pitt himself saying quite clearly, and with apparent sincerity, as such — there is virtually no confusion about the difference. Nevertheless, this is why many movies and TV shows still have that ubiquitous message: “the views expressed do not reflect the views of (insert movie company) or of (other company)” so on and so forth.
But comedians don’t have such a disclaimer. When Kevin Hart takes the stage in front of thousands of fans in a sports arena, he arrives onstage as Kevin Hart. The billboard outside the venue says “Kevin Hart,” every ticket in every attendee’s pocket also says “Kevin Hart,” and Kevin Hart even announces triumphantly that he is “Kevin Hart” into the microphone, to be undoubtedly met with a supportive roar from the crowd.
Even though what follows is a performance very similar to acting, with scripted lines, rehearsed antics, and a preset beginning, middle, and end, the audience typically does not understand who they are seeing and hearing to be any different from the real person themselves. Every story told at the very least could be true, and is often presumed to be by enthusiastic audience members. Every opinion expressed is also presumed to be sincere. It would be weird if Kevin Hart went up onstage, said “I’m Kevin Hart,” and then promptly said a bunch of things that Kevin Hart would never actually say…right?
This leads us to an obvious question without an obvious answer: should we take comedy seriously? Should we assume that the views expressed by comedians onstage are their actual views, and for that matter, should we consider their statements as valid contributions to public discourse, which in turn warrant serious responses?
Part of the problem appears to be that comedians seem to feel very differently than the general public on the topic. When asked, popular comics will often say something like, “No, you shouldn’t take my comedy seriously. These are all just jokes, and just because I joke about something in my act doesn’t mean I actually feel that way in real life.” This is obviously not an exact quote from any one person, but anyone who has paid any interest to this topic in the last few years will recognize it is an accurate assessment of the attitude. The key phrase is “in real life.” Many comedians, particularly observational comics like Joe Rogan, Dave Chappelle, and Bill Burr, have made it clear in interviews and discussions outside of their comedy acts that they feel like they are more like actors. They feel there is an onstage persona that says and does certain things in one particular way, but this is not to be confused with them as human beings in real, day-to-day life. Many of these comedians thus react dismissively or incredulously when members of the public engage with them in real life about things their onstage persona said, as if assuming the two are one and the same.
But as I explained earlier, it’s easy to see why people would make that assumption. Comedians often deliberately blur the line between real life and persona, and, particularly for the majority of us who never see or interact with these comedians outside of their public appearances online, on TV, or onstage, it can be very hard to conceptualize another, invisible side to this person whom we already feel like we know. Remember, comedians don’t just ramble onstage; they go on talk shows and share stories about their spouses, their children, their neighborhoods, and so on, just the way a famous actor would. Only when a famous actor shares stories about their personal life on Jimmy Fallon, it’s obvious they aren’t playing a character. Not so for comedians — they look the same, dress the same, talk the same, and even tell the same stories as they do onstage. All of this adds to the confusion. We think we’re meeting the person as they would be at a private house party, and they appear to be the same person that makes us laugh on their Netflix special. Thus, we take the person in the Netflix special every bit as seriously as the conceptual person at the private party, even if they make us laugh non-stop for 80 minutes.
It’s important to note this is true not just for those who disagree with the views expressed; it’s often true for those who agree as well. When a comedian makes a politically divise joke, one person might leave the theater thinking “wow, I can’t believe he really thinks that,” while another might leave thinking “I’ve been thinking the same thing!” Despite having apparently opposite interpretations of the joke, one part of the interpretation is identical: both assume the views are sincere and the ideas are to be taken seriously.
At rock bottom, there’s no obvious reason why we viewers shouldn’t be able to acknowledge that comedians generally tell us not to take them seriously, while simultaneously holding comedians accountable for the potential effects of their material. Thinking in this way might actually provide some clarity as to how we really feel about certain controversial jokes. Take, for instance, Dave Chappelle’s recent special when he said he “didn’t believe” Michael Jackson’s accusers after watching Leaving Neverland. This has sparked a lot of outrage, and even prompted a passionate response from one of the accusers himself. Of course, the debate has its usual circular lack of productivity — one side says “it’s just a joke,” the other side says “this is offensive and wrong to say.”
Why can’t both be right?
Clearly, it is a joke. Chappelle said this in the middle of a standup comedy performance; he’d written it into his set well beforehand, and that same set consisted of all sorts of other statements of questionable authenticity. For example, in the same special Dave also claims that when his son came home from school after a school-shooting drill, he explained to his son “Fuck that drill. If somebody comes to your school and wants to shoot it up…you’re probably going to get shot.” I think it’s highly unlikely that even Dave Chappelle ever actually said this to his own son…at least not verbatim. But then why is it any more likely that what he said about Leaving Neverland is any more honest? It’s hard to know what comedians really think, or which parts of their routines are based on reality or not, and until we have some other outside information on the subject, it’s probably best not to take anything they say too literally. They might really mean it, or it might just be for show; either way, we can’t really be sure without deeper insight.
Yet at the same time, we can also be aware of the ramifications of such a joke, however it may have been intended. Leaving Neverland is a documentary about real people making real accusations that are incredibly serious and worthy of respect. Ignoring or disbelieving those who claim to have been assaulted can have profoundly dire consequences, and this is a huge and very real problem in our society that is just now getting talked about in mainstream discourse. Many people feel it is okay to simply assume victims are lying, or at fault, or both, and as a result, victims of assault are often reluctant to come forward in the first place. It seems totally reasonable to think that, for those who wish to blame victims or ignore what they have to say, Chappelle’s joke could be validating. They too might make the mistake of thinking he really means what he says, and interpret it as a sign that “he’s thinking what I’ve been thinking!”
The goal should be to try to avoid making that mistake in the first place; but, at the same time, we have to recognize the practical ramifications. Even if everyone should take comedy with a big grain of salt, not everyone will — and there can be real consequences. The unavoidable truth is that comedians can and often do have a tremendous influence on culture and thought, and the broad scale end result of that influence is usually no laughing matter.
