Monday, September 24, 2007

I was brooding over how the meaning of comedy has changed over the years, only to discover to my further brooding (broodance? brood?) that Douglas Noel Adams had done it years earlier. In an article he wrote in 2000, he described a time when a stand-up comic cracked this joke:

"These scientists, eh? They're so stupid! You know those black-box flight recorders they put on aeroplanes? And you know they're meant to be indestructible? It's always the thing that doesn't get smashed? So why don't they make the planes out of the same stuff?"

While the audience roared with laughter, Adams sat uncomfortably. He thought he was being pedantic in thinking that the joke was absurd because it was scientifically unreasonable - was it obvious to only him that the material used to make those black-boxes would render the plane too heavy to fly? He then settled on the realization the joke to an extent relied on ignorance. It made him wonder if he was cracking ignorant jokes too. Whether jokes that seemed funny to him were simply because he was missing some knowledge that was otherwise commonplace? And then he realized humour itself was changing.

Moving away from this tea-infatuated man on stilts, I realize that we're seeing much the same phenomenon on Indian TV. If I try to draw a parallel to American Sitcoms, one series alone holds fort, being well capable of defending all of American humour. And it often starts with a balding psychiatrist going "I'm listening". But in India, post the Great Indian Laughter Challenge (GILC), things have just one from bad to worse (Q: What did the Gujju say to the singing prostitute? A: "You are going from bed to verse!". But I digress).

To be honest GILC itself was a great show - it spawned a new industry really, and clearly although all contestants were not all equal, it did provide a pedestal for some talented people to show off rather unique skills. But GILC brought with it a new interest in the public for humour, and the TV sitcoms and shows that followed have changed the definition of humour. Not to say that the humour is bad - it's appealing in its own sort of way. Rather than relying on clever allusion or intelligent satire, this humour relies on comic timing and slapstick. But there is not an inkling of genious in it, not a smear of greatness. And every time I revisit the television (this generally happens when I visit home) after weeks of watching and reading the likes of Python and Adams, I pretty much spend my evenings laughing half-heartedly while the show has everyone else in guffaws. I dare not say I felt the way Adams felt watching the stand up comedian; I do not share his comic genious. However, I did share the feeling of a being in an alien world. Pretty dramatic, you would say - it's just a few jokes, for heaven's sake. Well, to you I only have this to say:

A: Knock Knock!
B: Who's there?
A: The interrupting sheep.
B: The interrupting sh...
A: Baaaa!

Go figure, while I walk away with the look of an intellectual.