Laughter on tap at Humanities Festival
ARTS | Events get at the heart of what's funny — and what's not
A joke sometimes referred to as the world's filthiest features a family of four -- a mother, father, sister and brother -- performing unspeakably violent, sexual and violently sexual acts on each other while auditioning their "act" for a talent agent.
Most widely known as "The Aristocrats," it has been told in comedic inner circles with joyously deviant abandon for years. Most notably, it was also the subject of a 2005 documentary directed by actor and comedian Paul Provenza.
(John H. White/Sun-Times)
More than a few versions (the joke changes with each improvised telling) were horrifically -- and, depending on your sensibility, hilariously -- beyond the pale, causing audiences to laugh out loud and squirm uncomfortably in their seats, often at the same time.
As part of the 2009 Chicago Humanities Festival, Provenza will explore a subject that's at the core of "The Aristocrats": offensive humor. He'll be joined at Francis W. Parker School in Lincoln Park by Katie Watson, a medical ethicist at Northwestern University's Feinberg School of Medicine and a faculty member at The Second City.
In a Nov. 14 panel discussion titled "Crossing the Line," they'll discuss whether some humor, such as that exemplified by "The Aristocrats," goes too far, and whether it matters if people are offended.
"The underlying premise [of the discussion] is, 'Is there a line?' Watson says. "There's sort of an underlying cultural assumption that there is a line and that we can debate whether you've crossed it," continues Watson, whose background is in Constitutional law. "Well, I'm kind of interested in stepping backwards and [asking], 'What does that even mean, 'a line?' Does that mean someone is offended? Well, who is offended? Is there some type of offense that we should take very seriously? Is there another type of offense that we can ignore or take too lightly? And who's taking it? Is it the artist? Is it the critic? Is it the other audience member who says, 'Don't waste your time on that show?'"
But before those questions can be asked, Watson thinks it's first necessary to defend comedy as an artform.
"[You have to] somehow reject this embedded cultural assumption that it's more valid or difficult to make someone cry than to make them laugh, or that's it's a more interesting emotion or a more valid emotion," she says.
A good measure of whether humor is offensive lies in the shame factor, she says. If a comic hides certain potentially offensive material based on who is in the room, that's a helpful flag.
"And so this goes to the sort of comedy or any art that's pushing the envelope," Watson says. "If it's pushing it because you have something that feels to you honest and important, then although you may be uncomfortable that the little old lady is there or the person who might be the subject of what you're talking about is there, that might raise the tension for you. But if you can still stand behind it, then you know you have something important to say or something valid to say because you're willing to engage with that person."
Provenza's own personal line is drawn based on "degree of difficulty" rather than content.
"If something is easy, if something is obvious, if comedy doesn't challenge, that's one thing that loses my interest," he says. "Another thing is if it doesn't speak truth to power. I believe that speaking truth to power is what the best comedians do."
In America, he notes, comics no longer suffer serious consequences for expressing themselves -- not, for instance, like the legendary iconoclast Lenny Bruce, who was busted several times for obscenity, including once (in 1962) at Chicago's Gate of Horn folk club.
In fundamentalist Muslim countries especially, Provenza says, "There are very hard and fast rules about what you can and cannot say."
Stepping over the line, therefore, is far easier -- and far more fraught with danger -- than it is in the States. Largely for that reason, Provenza prefers to work overseas.
"I know of a couple of comedians who were deported immediately the next day after having [crossed] those lines," he says. "That thrill you get from doing something really dangerous and really exciting, you can't really find that in comedy here."
Watson, too, knows of comedians who have suffered consequences for daring to offend. She also believes it's possible for those on the receiving end of certain humor to suffer "psychic harm" if they feel "personally degraded by a joke ... or like the point of that humor is that you as a human being are less than other people."
It's a subject she and Provenza may well examine during their hourlong chat. But as the press materials warn, "This program is not recommended for those who are easily offended. Really."
And that's no joke.