In many ways, humor is utilized as
a means of disarmament. It is the
responsibility of an individual wielding the lofty mantel of humor to suspend
and perhaps reconstruct the reality of their audience, if only for a
moment. In the Kantian perspective
of humor, there exists a paradoxical relationship between a specific form of
catharsis and the original tension of expectation. Kant establishes the role that naivete plays in our human appreciation of humor saying: “We laugh
at the simplicity that does not understand how to dissemble; and yet we are
delighted with the simplicity of the nature which thwarts that art” [Kant, 49]. There is something so poignant about naivete; we find it quaint and charming
against the stark and, quite often, brutal reality of the world, yet we also
have the lingering sense that these unworldly opinions reveal some sort
absurdity deeply embedded within our cultural consciousness (as dead metaphors will attest to). We are, for a brief period, able to
comfortably entertain notions of our norms, society, and entire lives as merely
cleverly crafted ruses (a horrifying concept by most standards).
The
Woody Allen pieces are prime examples of humor’s ability to disarm and
reconstruct. Allen takes concepts
that our society takes for granted (such as death and prostitution) and
completely subverts the reader’s preconceived understanding of them in a way
that is totally unexpected and creative at the same time that it is
simplistic. There is nothing so
strange about a death without the macabre pomp and circumstance we have grown
accustomed to expect, yet we balk alongside Nat as the overweight and
underwhelming character of death clumsily stumbles through the window. This unexpected characterization makes
us laugh because it breaks our morbid tension and momentarily allays our
despair in regards to our ultimate mortality. This fleeting moment of lightheartedness allows us to ask
the difficult questions, like “Is there anything after?” without experiencing a
crushing sense of anxiety and uncertainty; humor encourages an almost
child-like curiosity within subject matter that is too imposing to approach
frankly [Death Knocks, 190]. In The
Whore of Mensa, Allen’s ‘intellectual prostitute’ character explicitly
extols the virtue of this constructed naivete
in literature asking, “’I think Melville reaffirmed the virtues of innocence in
a naïve yet sophisticated sense- don’t you agree” [The Whore of Mensa, 54]?
There clearly exists some interplay between what is humorous and what we
have forgotten or forsaken alongside our innocence.
It
was Mark Twain himself who said that, “To string incongruities and absurdities
together in a wandering and sometimes purposeless way, and seem innocently
unaware that they are absurdities, is the basis of the American art” [How to Tell a Story, 241]. If art truly is the mirror of the
society that creates it, then our American society is one that harkens back to
a time of simplicity and innocence when confronted by inconceivable thoughts. Humor, when used correctly, provides a
basis for this kind of recalled naivete.
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