LC#22: Talking Funny
Reflecting on the landmark HBO special and how comedy has changed in the last decade.
Hello folks, I always wanted to write one of those “look at this thing 10 years after it came out” kind of articles, so as 2021 turns to a close I thought I’d discuss a legendary HBO special: Talking Funny. How does it feel to watch it today, in the age of Netflix, social media and mass distributed podcasting? Also: if I were in charge of HBO (lol), who would I like to see in a hypothetical panel discussion to dissect current comedy? My take after a small Xmas present.
This is the last edition of the newsletter before Christmas, so I wanted to regale you with this super weird Norwegian show my friend Eirik introduced me to. Basically it’s a mock reality show where a bunch of people dressed as Santa compete… to be the last Santa left, I guess. You need to watch a couple to get into the spirit, but it pays off. Eng subs on these are rare, so check it out!
It’s hard and frustrating to imagine a pre-pandemic world right now, but let’s try and transport our minds back to 2011. Media-wise, social media were being hailed for their democratic power (somehow largely perceived as separate from the dark shadows of the NSA), Netflix was not really a thing (at least outside of the US), and HBO was still the main place to go for quality stand-up comedy.
When Talking Funny came out, it truly felt like a gem. Orchestrated by Ricky Gervais, the special featured the The Office star alongside three legends of US stand-up — Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Rock, and Louis CK — talking about their careers, styles, and the comedic craft at large.
The line-up was unapologetically all-male (something that is easier to notice today), but it was relatively diverse in other respects: Seinfeld ticked the observational, clean comedy box; Louis CK represented a more recently consacrated avant-garde, edgy approach; Gervais was the only one coming from outside the stand-up world (and from another country, to boot); Rock stood for his relentless work ethic and happened to be the only person of color on stage (although he weirdly and controversially extended that qualification to CK).
The special starts directly in the middle of a very specific conversation about productivity: what is difference between “the act” you take on the road and a comedy special? Is it better to keep a selection of your best jokes throughout your career or does your audience need to be surprised with new material every year? As the talk moves along, the focus predictably shifts onto language and what is appropriate to talk about in comedy. The guests discuss the F-word, the N-word (in a way that would definitely not fly today), whether we laugh at silly jokes ironically or sincerely, and if there are any no-go zones in comedy. This is all pretty straightforward, however at the time (when comedy podcasts were not as ubiquitous as today) it was not as usual to have a high-profile conversation that went into those corners, getting that technical.
Maybe I was just more easily impressed because I am Italian, but I do believe Talking Funny was a bit of a landmark — if anything, it brought together a genuinely British comedian and three distinctively American ones, prefiguring the much more pronounced internationalization of US television that would follow (e.g. John Oliver, Trevor Noah) and exposing some interesting differences in the process. Even at the time, for example, I noticed the playful jabs that Rock and Seinfeld directed at Gervais for being a TV star first and a stand-up star later, or the moment the four discuss the “sitting on a cock ‘cause I’m gay” jingle (clip above) as indicative of different attitudes towards jokes and irony — Gervais says his audience is at the same level as he is, but laughs at silly jokes like that ironically, amused by the context; the Americans recognize their position on stage is hard-earned and, as a consequence, respect the silly joke as a well crafted bit in its own right. It’s a small portion of the show, but it is very revealing of substantial cultural gaps between US and UK delivery.
While a lot of the topics discussed would still feature heavily in any comedy-specific conversation (and they do, in many many podcasts), if you watch the special in 2021 it is hard not to notice comedy has changed a lot in the past decade, and an equivalent TV format would look a lot different today. A few obvious details: Louis CK would not get away with using the N-word like that (and most likely he wouldn’t be invited for other, known reasons), there would be at least one woman in the room (Silverman? Schumer? Wong?) and probably the special would happen on Netflix rather than HBO.
In more speculative terms, I think a thought-provoking conversation about comedy today would necessarily need to address “the craft” beyond its artistic confines, factoring in the influence that the Internet and social media now have on it (for better and for worse) and, as a consequence, the increasingly recognized weight of representation in the dynamics of laughter. I have been writing about these things in the last two editions already, but I think it’s interesting to think about Talking Funny as a snapshot of a different time. For this reason, I’ve been wondering about what (and who) might best represent the current situation instead.
Speaking of representation, Hari Kondabolu would definitely bring a lot to the table. The comedian is known for a documentary about the character of Apu from the Simpsons and the impact it had on Indian-Americans as pretty much the only image of their parents’ generation on American TV. Beyond his activist success (eventually Kondabolu’s effort moved Hank Azaria, Apu’s white voice actor, to acknowledge the influence of the character and finally retire the accent), Kondabolu has a pretty unique comedic voice and a rare talent for weaving difficult social matters into his jokes.
Another important comic that I have already mentioned in a previous edition is Baratunde Thurston. Albeit not quite a stand-up comedian, Baratunde used to write for The Onion and has generally focused on the intersection of comedy and technology for a long time. There is probably no better figure to contextualise how pervasive comedy has become in the age of social networks than him (plus him and Kondabolu have already collaborated in the past).
An excellent third member of this hypothetical, unofficial, unrequested round-up could be Mae Martin, a Canadian comedian who is probably bigger in the UK than the US. Martin has made a very good series called Feel Good, which discusses life and relationships along with a range of delicate themes (including addiction, sexual identity and abuse) with a lot of humanity and nuance. She is also very funny.
The fourth spot could go to Bo Burnham, whom I have written about before as well. Not only would Burnham be perfect to connect the themes of mental health and social media (his songs are huge on TikTok), he would also be the right person to frame the legacy of edgy comedy within a self-reflexive focus.
This list is an entirely arbitrary, partial, and necessarily imperfect overview of comics who I imagine would have a lot to say about comedy as it intersects with wider societal contexts and issues, but other names I could just as easily make are Maria Bamford, Gary Gulman, Rob Delaney, Michelle Wolf, Tig Notaro, or even Hannah Gadsby. They are not necessarily my favorite comedians, but I think they would offer a nuanced range of perspectives on comedy as an art form that exists in increasingly socially permeable media. I think these days it’s pretty important.