Processing Humor

C.P. Snow was right in 1959 when he talked about the "two cultures"--it's a shame that as fields get more specialized, well-ranging knowledge falls by the wayside. Let it never be said that Spit Takes widened that divide (in fact, we've talked science here before).

So--with that in mind, let's visit an awesome article from earlier this month on the New Scientist site. The Comedy Circuit: When Your Brain Gets the Joke is a brief but in-depth exploration of what researchers learn when applying fMRI scans to people on the receiving end of humor (watching sitcoms, reading cartoons, etc.). 


I won't go in to all their discoveries, because they already have (and it truly is worth your time), but here are some highlights that I appreciated: 

No two brains are the same, however, and how these differences are reflected in our sense of humour is the subject of much research. Men and women, for example, seem to process jokes slightly differently. Although both sexes laugh at roughly the same number of jokes, women show greater activity in the left prefrontal cortex than men (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol 102, p 16496). "This suggests a greater degree of executive processing and language-based decoding," says Mobbs. As a result, women take significantly longer than men to decide whether they find something funny, though that doesn't seem to spoil their enjoyment of the joke. Indeed, women show a greater response in the limbic system than men, suggesting they feel a greater sense of reward.

How gratifying to see these results talked about in an elevated and fair way, as opposed to some other ridiculous treatments I've seen.

The researchers hope that pinning down the brain processes involved in understanding jokes could shed light on a number of medical conditions. Mobbs, for example, hopes that studying humour will provide insights into depression. "It is believed that the reward system is disrupted in depression and it would be interesting to see if this deficit extends to more complex social processes such as humour," he says.

Samson, meanwhile, hopes it could contribute to our understanding of autism. Previous research has suggested that people with autism have difficulty understanding comedy, but her work shows that they can understand and appreciate certain types of jokes as well as anyone...This could change the way we interact with autistic children, she says.

They make a point of showing that while volunteers with Asperger's had difficulty with processing so-called "theory-of-mind" jokes (those that require empathizing with characters--i.e., when one character doesn't get what the other is talking about), they enjoy visual puns as much as other control groups.  I'm glad there is support for my belief that puns are the most accessible form of comedy, and not the lowest, unless lowest happens to be used as a the fruit-hanging descriptor, for example, puns are low-hanging fruit that everyone can reach, in which case...never mind, I guess I am fine with that verbage.

Not Cool, Zeus. Not Cool. (Part Two)

As introduced previously, this is the letter of an artist who respects the administrative side of things, but also gets that it isn't--it can't be--his job to do it. Conan has respect and devotion to the Tonight Show as an artistic institution, and is pissed that the administration isn't willing to see it the same way (or don't trust him to keep it safe). Below is Nikki Finke's take on his statement, and I'm right there with her:

I'm proud of O'Brien for standing his ground and protecting his own and The Tonight Show's future from NBC's nitwits. There's a rich legacy of that among his predecessors, from Steve Allen through Jack Paar and during Johnny Carson: they all refused to knuckle under to the network. Only Jay Leno didn't. Instead, he begged like a dog for The Tonight Show, and then rolled over and played dead even after Zucker canned him. Then Leno stayed with the network and agreed to a 10 PM show doomed from the outset. What a doormat. Obviously, NBCU thought Conan would be just as compliant. I'm thrilled that he's not. Hollywood should be, too, and publicly support him.

But it isn't just about fighting back against the big man. The littler regional men with the tinny voices need to be considered, too:

The move to redirect Mr. Leno from prime time, where his new show has struggled since September, back to late night was fueled by complaints from NBC’s affiliated stations that they were seeing diminished ratings for their 11 o’clock local newscasts as a result of low lead-in audiences each night in the 10 o’clock hour.

Poor, dear local affiliates. Declining lead-ins are the problem for your news shows? Sure. Sure they are.

So--is there a solution? Not one that I can puzzle out. All sides have valid points and concerns, but I like and trust (and know) Conan more than anyone else involved, so in his camp I will stay. And if you need any more prodding to join Team Conan, let Finke remind you (and Jeff Gaspin, to whom this comment is directed) of Conan's true colors:

Go back and watch O'Brien's charm and wit when he was hosting Late Night during the writers strike. That was a glimpse of the real Conan, not the uncomfortable twitching wreck doing Tonight Show duty. Play to his strengths.

The proof is in the strike beard.

Go Team Conan, whatever field we end up on.

POSTSCRIPT: Got this from @ebertchicago on Twitter. Barely made it through Leno and Kimmel's bit...yeesh, that was uncomfortable ("Conan and I have children! You have cars! Leave our shows alone!"). Nice mention of Jimmy's random fear of Mt. Rainier, though.

Not Cool, Zeus. Not Cool. (Part One)

I don't pretend to know my way around the very confusing Hedge Maze of Factors Contributing to NBC's Unhappy Situation. But here I go, hacking into anyway! Let's start with a quote from the Media Decoder blog at nytimes.com:

The problem is not disclosure, or jokes, but the facts themselves. There are some things even the best communications strategy can’t fix, and this is one of them: angry talent standing in front of a pile of smoking rubble that used to be a programming schedule.

By nature, the best of the talent, as generally creative (read: inventive) folks, can adapt to changing landscape more efficiently than the administration. Shows, whether broadcast as a radio production or streamed directly into our contact lenses, need to be written, directed, performed, edited, designed, and any other number of artistic-past-tense-verbed. The job of the networks is on shakier ground. How will advertising fit in, and to what extent? What are the administrative needs and costs of producing and distributing the product? How do you measure and track the audience when they consume their media in multiple, shifting, flighty ways?

I don't envy the Jeff Zuckers or Jeff Gaspins of the world their jobs. But they get paid a lot of money for that responsibility, so they need to nut up (or ovary up, in some cases) and do their jobs. The industry has static (ref: the plot of "Singing in the Rain," James Cameron for the last fifteen years). The whole impetus of movie-making and broadcasting is to continue the narrative. That goes for the stories as well as the technology involved, the union rules, the censorship requirements, the audience preferences, etc.

When Charlie Chaplin finances, writes, produces, directs, acts in, and composes original music for his own work, you have a perfect storm. A gifted multimedia artist who is also an effective administrator produces a quality product that can perform as intended. But that isn't a sustainable model--the business is too big and (non-Chaplin) talents are too narrow. Networks and their executives need to be more nimble--more investments like Hulu.com and more nuanced understanding (and communication) of the new map being drawn by the combination of streaming/DVR numbers and traditional ratings, plus any other matrices by which they judge "success."

The talent (in this case, the comedians) have another leg up besides their adaptability. You can't be a good comic without being a good communicator. And as Media Decoder said, the problem is definitely not the jokes (weeeeeell, except for in Leno's case), however; in a meta-but-predictable twist, the problem has become the joke. If you've been watching, all the late-night monologues have been directing some level of vitriol to the network or executives over the last couple days (especially Conan). Comedy done right can be a verbal panic room--powerful self-defense. That goes for stand-up and the written word, and if you haven't read Conan's letter yet, you must--it's a great and honest in to what he is going through, and a sterling example of how to make your point, capture hearts and minds, and not be a dick.


More to come...

Book Review: E.B. White

I've been itching to take advantage of last summer's new MLA style revisions (NERD!), so I'm pleased to introduce a new facet of Spit Takes: book reviews, complete with MLA-compliant citation!

White, E.B. Writings from the New Yorker, 1925-1976. Ed. Rebecca M. Dale. New York: HarperCollins, 1990. Print.

I've given up my New Yorker subscription since my trek to work has changed and I'm no longer spending forty-five minutes on the bus every day. While it was sad to give up my commuter reading (it can be nearly impossible to finish a New Yorker every week when not a denizen of public transit), I seized the opportunity to indulge in more diverse reading material. I've had excellent forays, thanks both to a brilliant book club and well-chosen gifts, but sometimes, you have to get a fix of what you miss. After having read George Packer's collections of George Orwell essays (Facing Unpleasant Facts and All Art is Propaganda, both excellent), I was in the mood for more New Yorker-connected prose. I picked up this collection of White writings at Powell's when I was in Portland last August. I'm so glad I did.

The book collects pieces that had only previously been published in the magazine: particularly the anonymous bits (like "Notes & Comments" and "Talk of the Town"). About White's prose, Dale says in her introduction, "[w]hile he was often playful in his writing , sometimes delighting in the spirit of fun for its own sake, he also dealt with important subjects...[h]is humor, which permeated nearly all of his writing, is the type that 'plays close to the big hot fire which is Truth.'" (This quote of White's comes from another essay, "Some Remarks on Humor," which is included Essays of E.B. White). My favorite writers and performers all operate in this vein--fun for fun's sake, but not at the expense of the important subjects. Jon Stewart's first show back after September 11, 2001, comes to mind.

Dale has organized the collection by topic, rather than date, which a gentle and supportive way of curating writing like White's. Issues at hand include Maine, the academic life, business, Christmas spirit, and whims, among others. Many pieces are written in the first-person singular, which is a mark of the magazine's editorial column; we learn in Dale's intro that White apparently disliked having to speak in that voice, noting that it gave "the impression that the stuff was written by a set of identical twins or the members of a tumbling act." Very Wodehousian!

In one section Dale has termed "The Word," there is a piece called "Satire on Demand," published sixty-one years ago this week:

One of our contemporaries, the Russian humor magazine called Crocodile, has been under fire lately. Crocodile got word from Higher Up that it would have to improve, would have to bear down harder on "the vestiges of capitalism in the consciousness of the people." This directive, according to the Associated Press, came straight from the Central Committee and was unusual only for its admission that there were any such vestiges. Crocodile was instructed to gird on its satiric pen and by "the weapons of satire to expose the thieves of public property, grafters, bureaucrats..." It has never been our good fortune to observe a controlled-press satirist who is under instructions from his government to get funnier, but it is a sight we'd gladly crawl under a curtain to see. A person really flowers as a satirist when he first slips out of control, and a working satirist (of whom there are woefully few in any country) careens as wildly as a car with no brakes. To turn out an acceptable pasquinade is probably unthinkable under controlled conditions, for the spirit of satire is the spirit of independence. Apparently the Russian committee anticipates difficulties in stepping up humor and satire by degree. Crocodile used to be a weekly. From now on it will appear only every ten days. Three extra days for each issue, for straining. [1/8/49]*

Most of the pieces in White's book are about this short, though some stretch to two or three pages. They aren't always funny, but they are almost always humorous. The dated references are generally helpful when you know what he is referring to, but when you don't, it casts a fog over the whole piece (not White's fault, of course--he lived and wrote through many decades and references). Dale usually provides footnotes for context, but if you didn't know about the controversy of Bertrand Russell's appointment to the City College of New York and Bishop William T. Manning's open letter denouncing it before you read "Our Contentious Readers," learning it about it halfway through won't help much. In general, though, it is an excellent book for picking up when you have a couple spare minutes--short, often fluffy pieces that are well-wrought and (surprisingly) educational. If you only know E.B. White as the guy who wrote Charlotte's Web, then Writings from the New Yorker is a great intro to his "grown-up" writing.

*Incidentally: if you haven't seen Jon's monologue recently, I highly suggest you watch it again. Not only is it generally worth 8:49 of your life--but he also speaks a bit in the first-person plural and addresses the idea of satire in a free country. Humor writing is humor writing, no matter the medium or subject.