A longread on writing comedy
This is what I do to research writing comedy:
What helped me most was analyzing a lot of jokes: "It's funny. Why is it funny? How does this joke work?" Usually it's something that subverses the expectations in a specific way or an unexpected collision of two things. (Like a pun is a collision of sound and meaning.) For my analysis, I wonder: "What is the expectation after the set-up? Why do I have this expectation? How does the pay-off subverse the expectation? Why does it still make sense in relation to the set-up?"
For example: I unleashed this kind of analysis on the movie George of the Jungle. It has a surprisingly high hit rate, I think around three jokes per minute in the first one third of the movie, and it still manages to get the story going and the characters introduced. I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t think I gave examples, and you know I’m all about the teaching.
I found at least 17 types. Heads up, this is going to be a longread.
Type 1: Puns
Narrator: “When they finally beheld the mighty Ape Mountain…”
[They see a mountain shaped like a gorilla head.]
Narrator, cont’d: “… they reacted with awe.”
All: “Aww.”
Narrator: “I said ‘awe”. A-W-E.”
All: “Ooh!”
Narrator: “That’s better.”
Explanation:
The pun lies in the fact that “awe” and “aww” sound the same.
There is a visual type of comedy as well that we can’t effectively reproduce in writing: the mountain is shaped like a gorilla head.
BTW: the narrator defies genre expectations by interacting with the characters, and the characters defy genre expectations by being able to hear the narrator.
Type 2: Tone of voice
Narrator, about the main characters: “Scraped and boo-booed, they searched high and low.
Explanation:
“Boo-booed” is a children’s word, not the tone you would use for a hero. Compare “tummy” and “stomach”.
Type 3: Defying genre expectations
[The guide falls off a rope bridge into a deep chasm.]
Narrator: “Don’t worry—nobody dies in this story. They just get really big boo-boos.”
Explanation:
The narrator is breaking the fourth wall.
Again: tone of voice with the “boo-boos”.
Contrast between the boo-boo and the injuries one usually suffers after falling into a deep chasm.
Type 4: Not defying genre expectations
[A lion appears from the bushes. A baby monkey makes a sound like “uh-oh”.]
[The baby monkey does the Tarzan call and bangs its chest.]
[The lion flees.]
[The monkey giggles.]
[The monkey gives George a thumbs up.]
[From the bushes, the lion winks at George. George winks back.]
Explanation:
Expectation: the lion is a danger to the baby monkey and George will need to fight it to save the monkey.
Defying expectations: the monkey and the lion are in on the plan.
Not defying genre expectations: George of the Jungle is clearly based on Tarzan. George doesn’t refer to that fact, but the monkey does, by doing the Tarzan call and banging its chest.
Improbable: monkeys who giggle and give thumbs up.
Impossible: lions who wink.
Type 5: Contrast
Narrator: “Meanwhile, 43 vines away, George’s kingdom is being threatened by a terrifying intruder.”
[We see the adorable Leslie Mann, who plays Ursula, smiling and talking to the camera.]
Ursula: “Hi! It’s me again!”
Explanation:
Contrast between what the narrator says and what we see.
The narrator isn’t lying. He refers to Lyle and the poachers who will be introduced in this scene.
There’s also humor in the phrase “43 vines away”, because of the overt specificity and because a vine is not a measure of distance.
Type 6: Oblivious character
[Lyle takes a Polaroid picture of one of the guides.]
Lyle: “Do you like it? Magic picture. Yet another gift from America. Here you go. You’re welcome.”
[The guide replies in Swahili. There is no translation in the subtitles.]
[All the guides laugh.]
[The guide continues in Swahili. Only the last few words are in English: “35 mm.” The guide takes his own camera and snaps a picture of Lyle.]
[All the guides and Ursula laugh.]
Lyle, not amused: “Translation, please.”
Other guide: “He says he likes your magic pictures, but he prefers the resolution of the Leica 35 mm transparencies.”
[Everyone but Lyle laughs.]
Other guide, cont'd: “He also says your lens is dirty, but he has the equipment to clean it for you.”
Explanation:
Lyle doesn’t understand Swahili, while the guides understand everything Lyle says to them in English.
The fact that Ursula, Lyle's fianceé, understands Swahili and laughs along with the guides, is adds contrast to his obliviousness.
Lyle is the butt of the joke. He humiliates the guides and now he’s humiliated on his own turf while the guides don’t stoop down to his level.
This joke is threefold: 1. The set-up: Lyle is the arrogant asshole who thinks he’ll show the locals about technological development. 2. The guide is not only not impressed, he knows Polaroid and has a camera of his own, and is knowledgeable. 3. And he demonstrates his superiority in a (more or less) polite way.
Type 7: Slapstick
[George is swinging on the vines.]
Narrator: “He is swift. He is strong. He is sure. He is smart.”
[George hits a tree and falls.]
Narrator, deadpan: “He is unconscious.”
Explanation:
Slapstick is another type of humor that barely translates to written fiction, when the actors behave silly, for example by falling over, hurting themselves, or others. It's often over the top. Laurel & Hardy is a well-known example of slapstick.
Type 8: Alliteration
Narrator: “The tired trekkers trudged on feverish footsies over perilous paths.”
Explanation:
If several words in each other’s vicinity start with the same letter, it’s called alliteration.
Note that "footsies" is another example of a contrast in tone of voice—it’s another children’s word.
Type 9: Improbable things
[George spins a lion over his head.]
George: “George not even trying hard.”
Explanation:
While not impossible, spinning an actual lion over one’s head is improbable and thus goes against real-world expectations.
Type 10: Impossible things
[A gorilla called Ape enters George’s tree house and scares Ursula.]
Ursula: “What does it want? What does it want?”
Ape: [points at a big book] “It wants its Physician’s Desk Reference, if you don’t mind, unless you’d rather die of dengue fever, of course.”
[Ursula faints again.]
Explanation:
Gorillas can’t talk, can’t read, and aren’t usually well-versed in curing tropical diseases.
Type 11: Breaking social norms
[Ursula is unconscious. George licks her face, clearly meaning well.]
Explanation:
In our society, it is not only considered impolite but also gross to lick the face of a stranger. The fact that George does this anyway, clearly not realizing he does something wrong, is a subversion of what we’d expect of social norms and behavior.
Type 12 and 13: Hyperbole and understatement
[Earlier, Ursula fainted when she saw Ape talk and do human things.]
[Ape is reading when he sees Ursula look at him. He panics, throws the book away, starts grunting, and bangs his chest.]
[Ursula faints again.]
Ape: “Eh.”
Explanation:
Ursula fainting again is a hyperbole: a reaction that is stronger than expected.
Ape saying “Eh.” is an understatement: a reaction less strong than expected.
Type 14: Obvious repetitions
Ursula: “… And I didn’t want my fianc—Um, this guy I was with, to worry.”
Narrator, a few moments later: “George and Ursula set out on a desperate search to find her fianc—Uh, that guy she was with.”
Type 15: Stating the obvious
[We see the guide’s hand, pointing at a really big footprint in the mud.]
Narrator: “Meanwhile, back at the really big footprint in the mud, (...)”
Explanation:
Stating the obvious can be funny because the audience doesn’t expect you to do or say this because it is so very obvious.
Type 16: Adult humor
[George watches Ursula sleep.]
George: “George having stirrings of special feelings right now.”
Ape, drily: “I see.”
George: “Good thing she same species, huh?”
Explanation:
Ape’s reply, “I see”, could be an innuendo, but it doesn’t come across as a joke (to me at least). Maybe it’s downplayed because it’s a children’s movie.
If this is an innuendo, it’s a play on words. “I see”, figuratively, for “I understand”, or literally for “Yes, I can tell from your erection.”
“Good thing she same species” because George shouldn’t have stirrings of special feelings for animals.
Type 17: Rhyme
[George is swinging on a vine.]
George: “Look, like this!”
Song: “He flies through the air with the greatest ease.”
Song, cont’d: “Our daring young man on the flying trapeze.”
[George hangs upside down from a vine.]
George: “Look, no hands.”
Song, cont’d: “His movements so grateful, all girls he could please.”
Song, cont’d: “And with love he is swinging away…”
[On the ground, gorillas frantically run back and forth with a safety net.]
Song, cont’d: “He flies through the air with the greatest of ease.”
Ursula: “George, watch out for that—”
Song, cont’d while George yelps: “Our daring young man on the—” [Song stops abruptly.]
[Thud]
[George grunts.]
Ursula: “… tree.”
Explanation:
When words end in the same sounds, we call it rhyme.
It’s physically impossible to hang from a vine with no hands.
The gorillas with the safety net imply that they expect George to fall.
Also, it’s improbable that gorillas would do this.
Slapstick: George hitting the tree.
Comedic timing: Ursula being just too late to warn George about the tree.
Song + Ursula: “Our daring young man on the—tree.” Because by then he is literally stuck to the tree.
Or throw everything at the audience, whatever.
[George has a pet elephant, Shep, who behaves like a happy doggy.]
[Shep is chewing a humongous bone.]
Narrator: “Later, they rested, while the tired tusker teethed on a… Wait a second, the dog bone is too much. Lose it.”
[The dog bone disappears.]
Narrator: “That’s better.”
[Shep whines.]
Explanation:
Improbable: Pet elephant who behaves like a doggy.
Alliteration: “tired tusker teethed”
Fourth wall: the narrator comments on the story while it is going on, and edits it.
***
Here are some other funny situations from the movie. Try to analyze what’s going on. Usually you can spot several types.
Situation 1
Narrator: “Meanwhile, at a very big and expensive waterfall set, Ursula was amazed that she was lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.”
Ursula: “And here I am, lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.”
Situation 2
Narrator: “The guides came dangerously close—”
Narrator: “That is, dangerously close to shove a coconut up in Kyle’s—”
Narrator: “Sleeping bag.”
Situation 3
Lyle: “I am the richest, handsomest, smartest guy here, so I get to go first!”
[Lyle pushes past everyone, trips over a tree stump and lands face first in a steaming pile of elephant poop.]
Lyle: “There’s an elephant here.”
Guide, while looking straight into the camera: “Bad guy falls into poop. Classical element of physical comedy.”
Guide, cont’d: “Now comes the element where we throw our heads back and laugh.”
Guide, cont’d: “Ready?”
Other guides, while also looking straight into the camera: “Ready!”
[All the guides throw their heads back and laugh.]
[Monkey laughs and points at Lyle.]
[Off-screen, other animals make laughing sounds.]
Lyle, spitting out poop: “Those are nowhere near properly digested.”
Lyle, cont’d: “In case anyone is wondering, I’m okay.”
Situation 4
[Cliffhanger: it looks like Lyle has shot George from up close.]
Narrator: “Whew! Okay kids, let’s settle down and review the important information. Lyle is a big doofus. Poor George was actually shot but can’t die because, let’s face it, he’s the hero. So, the naturally concerned and preternaturally wealthy Ursula Stanhope whisked George away on a private jet bound for the country of his birth—”
[George has a tiny band-aid on his forehead.]
Narrator, cont’d: “—where he’s gonna get the finest medical treatment available!”
Ursula: “I’m gonna get you the finest medical treatment available.”
Situation 5
Narrator: “Well, Ursula […] could use a best friend now.”
Best friend: “Hi!”
Ursula: “He’s in the shower.”
Best friend, distracted: “Not anymore.”
George, naked: “Bad waterfall. First, water get hot—”
[A sexy saxophone plays]
George, cont’d: “Then George slips on this strange yellow rock.”
[Perspective: the camera looks at the two women, seen from between George’s legs. They are clearly ogling his crotch.]
[Ursula swoons.]
George, noticing the friend: “Hi! George of jungle.”
Friend, eager: “Charmed, I’m sure.”
[Ursula hands George objects that barely cover his crotch. The camera switches back to a frontal view of George. The friend is still ogling George.]
Best friend, mumbling appreciatively: “I see why they made him king of the jungle.”
***
I hope this was helpful. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and happy writing!
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Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants.
The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.
“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.
“Uh…a good one?”
“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.
They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.
Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.
"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration.
Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.
"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"
"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."
Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.
"That's weird," Dustin said.
"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.
"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.
"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."
"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."
"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.
"Guys! Guys, what about my..."
The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.
"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."
Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.
"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.
Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."
"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."
--
It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.
The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.
It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.
By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.
--
He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.
His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.
"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.
"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."
Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.
"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."
Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.
--
Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.
When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.
“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.
“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me.
“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it.
“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”
There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.
–
Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.
Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.
A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond.
Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.
“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.
“I asked first.”
“I asked second!”
“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.
“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.
“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.
“I’m not a lord.”
“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”
“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”
The man laughed at him outright.
“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”
Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.
“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”
“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”
“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”
“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”
“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”
“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.”
“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.
“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”
“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”
“Kind of.”
“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”
“Your god is the King of Dark–”
“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”
The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.
“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.
“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”
The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.
The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.
“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”
–
It happened again.
now with an additional snippet here and here
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