 As a comedian of 10 years and a recently turned screenwriter, I was excited to have
my first set of meetings with producers in April. I flew out to L.A. from Chicago
for the five “lunches” and was fortunate to meet with all personable
people. I listened carefully to what each said and wrote it all down later.
Some of it was in direct conflict—“I didn’t like that one
scene with the father at all.” “The scene with the father was brilliant,
my favorite in the script.” The script, by the way, is Amber Alert, a thriller in the vein of The Fugitive, which won a competition
and opened some doors for me and my works thereafter. It is far from a comedy,
although it does have comedic moments.
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There's Something
About Mary |
There was one common denominator in all the meetings: humor. “A script
needs levity here and there.” “Even in tearful dramas, there needs
to be some laughs.” “No matter what the genre, to sell a script
to us, there must be an element of fun,” noted Joseph Bialik of Ballyhoo,
Inc. He then went on to cite a scene from Bandits. “When
Bruce Willis’ character steals that woman’s car, he flirts with
her. He could just take the car but instead he flirts with her while he steals
her car. That’s fun; that’s what a script needs for us.”
The easiest and most common way to create fun is to use humor. Daniel Manus
of Sandstorm Film adds, “And humor shouldn’t just be used in one
or two spots. It needs to be spread throughout the script; otherwise, it feels
forced and contrived.” Okay, humor is important no matter what the script’s
genre; got it.
Outside the fact that producers seem to want humor in scripts (which in itself
is a pretty good reason to use it), why is humor important to a script? Humor
is to the heart and soul what shock is to the body. When a car crushes someone’s
leg, the body goes into shock, refusing to hear the nerves' cries of pain. If
it didn’t, the overwhelming wave of pain could be more than the victim
could handle. When the heart and soul can’t handle something, humor helps
them to slowly face the harsh reality before them. Last year, sadly, my father
died. To make matters worse, my two sisters and I had not really kept in touch
with him much over the last few years. He was mentally ill and had moved to
West Virginia. So, we were all riddled with guilt. My little sister and I arrived
first and just stood there, outside his apartment, unable to speak. After a
minute, I said, “Remember that time when we were kids and he told us he
…” I recalled the story and we busted out laughing. As we went through
his belongings, we kept finding things that made us laugh. Eventually, we were
able to mourn properly; but to cope initially, our hearts and souls needed to
laugh. They couldn’t face his death straight on; it was too much. Click.
I took a mental image of this and stored it away.
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Lethal Weapon
2 |
Scripts mimic real life. One day I’ll write a scene in which a close
loved one has died. Click. I’ll take out the mental image and have the
characters laugh about something before crying or hugging. If humor is a bandage
in reality, it needs to be one in my script. This will make it more real, more
accurate; make the emotions of the characters honest and help the reader feel
them. I may even show some coldness in one of the characters by not having him
laugh; perhaps he feels it is inappropriate and it disgusts him. Or, maybe,
on a deeper level, he simply can’t face the death. I can have him laugh
alone later and finally begin the healing process. So, now the humor acts to
add dimensions of emotions to the work.
After 9/11, I couldn’t get in touch with a friend who worked near the
World Trade Center for days. When he finally called, I was relieved. He said,
“You were worried about me, huh?” I said, “Damn right I was
worried … you owe me 20 bucks.” We laughed, THEN we talked about
the tragedy. Whenever it got too heavy, we made a light joke and then got back
to the seriousness of the topic. It was like jumping into cold water to get
out of the burning sun, standing back in the heat until it was unbearable, and
jumping back into the cold water again so that we could bear to get back into
the sun. It’s real, it’s honest; it needs to be reflected in my
scripts.
Additionally, humor gives the audience a chance to breathe. (I know, scripts
are read, not seen; but, they’re written to be seen and as such the audience
needs to be considered while writing.) If a writer keeps piling one tragedy
on after another without giving the audience a chance to relax for a second,
they’ll become overwhelmed and be unable to keep focus. They will lose
interest. I rented a movie the other day and that’s exactly what happened.
I was really into it until about halfway through. All these terrible things
kept happening to the characters and they just stood there and took it. Finally,
I didn’t believe it and lost all interest. I couldn’t take anymore
and didn’t believe the characters could, either. So, I went from being
intrigued to wanting it just to be over.
Okay, okay, humor is important, got it. How does one write it, though? Writing
humor is hard, no doubt about it. Fortunately, many of the elements of humor
have nothing to do with the writer. Timing, delivery and presence are the actor’s
job; leave those to him. Writers do have to give him a scenario to work with,
though. How does a writer know if what he’s writing is funny? Like anything
else, he will only get better by writing. There are no tricks around that; however,
it does help to know the two roots of humor.
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As Good As
It Gets |
Can people relate to what is written? If not, they won’t find it funny.
It amazes me how many times I’ve read a script and missed a joke. I’ll
tell the writer, “I didn’t understand this at all.” “Oh,
well, that’s actually a joke. In 1832, the nautical term for …”
“Yeah, okay, you lost me. How many people in the audience are going to
know that?” “Oh. Yeah. Probably only five or six.” “Yeah,
try none. Anyone who knows that is out sailing; they’re nowhere near a
movie theater.” Constantly ask if people relate to what is written. It
doesn’t have to be everyone in the audience, but it should be a majority.
If they don’t, find a way to make them relate or lose the bit. Relativity
is the first root of humor.
The second root is illogic. Exaggeration, incongruity, irony, satire, surprise,
stupidity, the unexpected; all are cited as methods of humor. All are simply
a form of illogic. For example, exaggeration is pushing logic past a reasonable
point, making it illogical; incongruity is putting two or more items together
that don’t logically go together.
Consider Lethal Weapon 2; a fun action movie. Danny Glover’s
character has a daughter who gets cast in a commercial. Proudly, he tells everyone
he knows to watch. Unexpectedly (illogically), it is a condom commercial. No
father wants to see his daughter in a condom commercial and he certainly wouldn’t
tell anyone to watch. He is embarrassed and protective; the audience relates.
The other police exaggerate the incident by drowning him in condoms. The audience
has been teased by friends, too; again, they relate. It is illogical for a father
to want his daughter to be in a condom commercial. The bit is funny because
it is both relative and illogical.
When writing humor, ask if the bit is relative or illogical. Keep in mind that
the best bits are both. Remember, humor is important both for the audience and
the characters. It is rooted in relativity and illogic. Got it? Now get writing.
ABOUT THIS AUTHOR
Recently honored when Joan Cusack called his writing “Very cool …
keep wondering what will happen and don’t know what the characters will
do until they do it … very captivating … original … intriguing,”
Ian Coburn began writing as a comedian in 1990 at age 18. More information
about Ian and his screenplays may be found at: www.iancoburn.com.
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I love their 'dog-whistle jokes'. I guess they are disguised so that if someone does not 'get-it' - it goes over their heads