All Fall Down: The Craft & Art of Physical Comedy

[post 32]

Why We Make Mistakes
by Joseph T. Hallinan
(NY: Broadway Books, 2009); hardcover, 283 pp.

Mistakes of judgment and mistakes of execution are the stuff of comedy, especially physical comedy. YouTube offers a rapidly expanding video archive of human stupidity in action, from the world's most incompetent criminals to every conceivable mishap awaiting those so foolhardy as to get out of bed in the morning. Likewise Chuck Shepherd's News of the Weird.

When Joel Schechter, editor of Yale's Theater magazine, asked me to do an article on physical comedy way back in 1986, I used it as an excuse to probe the connection between human error and physical comedy. [Read the whole article here.] Admittedly this was my subversive attempt to forge some new connections that would counter the notion that physical comedy was an inferior form of comedy, mindless entertainment that was good for a belly laugh but little else. Instead, I wanted the reader to see physical comedy as embodying a deeper truth about the human condition, and I had no better ally in this than Henry Miller in his clown novella, The Smile at the Foot of the Ladder:

"The beloved clown! It was his special privilege to reenact the errors, the follies, the stupidities, all the misunderstandings which plague human kind. To be ineptitude itself, that was something even the dullest oaf could grasp. Not to understand, when all is clear as daylight; not to catch on, though the trick be repeated a thousand times for you; to grope about like a blind man, when all signs point the right direction; to insist on opening the wrong door, though it is marked Danger!; to walk head on into the mirror, instead of going around it; to look through the wrong end of a rifle, a loaded rifle! -- people never tired of these absurdities because for millennia humans have traversed all the wrong roads, because for millennia all their seeking and questioning have landed them in a cul-de-sac. The master of ineptitude has all time as his domain. He surrenders only in the face of eternity."

Of course I'm not the only one to notice the disastrous results of human error, be it the sinking of the Titanic or our nation's certitude as to the existence of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. In many fields, especially those that involve human life, the study of risk assessment and human error is serious business — and often the findings are quite frightening.

Now there comes along a new book on the subject, and one I highly recommend for its research and readability, Joseph T. Hallinan's Why We Make Mistakes.

Subtitled How We Look Without Seeing, Forget Things in Seconds, and Are All Pretty Sure We Are Way Above Average, the book offers both clear analysis and great entertainment. And in most cases, the connections to comedy pretty much jump out at you. A few choice tidbits:

• In an experiment designed to test our ability to recognize change, two researches from Cornell University concocted a scene that could have been right out of a Marx Brothers movie. One of their actors would stop a stranger on the street to ask directions, but in the middle of the conversation two other actors would abruptly walk right between them carrying a door. But the catch was that while passing through, the actor asking directions would use the cover of the door to quickly change places with another actor, who seamlessly continued the conversation with the stranger. In the majority of cases, the stranger did not even notice the change! However, when the experiment was described to a college class and the students were asked to predict whether or not they would have noticed such a switcheroo, 100% were quite sure they would have.

• Overconfidence is indeed one of Hallinan's main themes and, as they teach you in clown school, pride goeth before the fall. Overconfidence makes us buy gym memberships or time shares we'll never fully use, and think we can accomplish complex tasks without following instructions (what he dubs the "bushwhack" approach). It seems to be part of human nature to want to feel on top of things, what Hallinan calls the "illusion of control." In one experiment, subjects guessed the outcome of a series of coin tosses. Students who were told that their first guesses were all correct (they didn't actually see the coin close-up) became convinced that they would be able to continue to predict the outcome well above half the time, and that they would even get better with practice. And who were these overconfident and, dare I say, foolish subjects? Students from a certain ivy league college in New Haven. The same researcher did an experiment in which the subjects bet on the outcome of a simple card game in which whoever drew the high card won. Though the chances on any draw were obviously 50-50, what happened was that when playing against "a guy dressed as a schlub," the subjects bet more than they did when betting against a nattily dressed opponent. Yes, these were Yale University students.

You probably won't be surprised to read that all kinds of tests have shown that men on average are far more overconfident than women and that they (conveniently) forget their mistakes a lot quicker. In the chapter "Men Shoot First," Hallinan gives example after example of this tendency, from men being more likely to kill their fellow soldier ("friendly fire") while in combat, to men overestimating their own IQ scores. Tragically, when it comes to driving a car, men wear seat belts with less frequency than women but are three times more likely to be involved in a fatal accident.

It's not much of a leap to connect this arrogant overconfidence to today's talking heads who assure us that climate change is nothing to get so worried about, that they've got everything under control. Obviously a lot of this drivel comes from those getting rich from oil production, but there are millions of others with nothing to gain — and, like all of us, everything to lose — who are blinded by overconfidence into assuming that somehow it will all work out, but with no evidence to back that up. Somewhere Henry Miller is chuckling.

I haven't seen it yet, but you might want to check out the new movie, The Age of Stupid, in which a man living alone in 2055 in a world devastated by climate change examines old footage from 2008 and tries to figure out how we could have been so stupid. Here's the trailer:




I guess the good news is that clowns know what they're talking about. The bad news is that what we're talking about is pretty scary.

[post 31]

"A comedian is not a man who says funny things. A comedian is one who says things funny." —Ed Wynn


Ed Wynn (November 9, 1886 – June 19, 1966), known to his public as “the perfect fool,” was an American vaudevillian who grew up working with W.C. Fields. He gained nationwide fame as a comedian first on radio and then on television and, in his later years, as a serious actor in television and film dramas. He was apparently the first performer to host a tv variety show from Hollywood, and on his show introduced Buster Keaton to television audiences for the first time. Here's a clip of that intro:



[Yeah, it cuts off there, but apparently Keaton did this more than once on television, because you can see him doing it on something called The Ken Murray Show in 1952 right here. It's the molasses scene from the 1917 Arbuckle movie, The Butcher Boy.]

Wynn was not a physical comedian, but his wacky props (e.g., a piano-bicycle) and giddy personality lent themselves to broad comedy with a touch of the surreal, as in this well known scene from Mary Poppins.



Visual effects fans might be interested to know that Mary Poppins was one of the first large-scale uses of chroma key technology, except they used a yellow screen rather than green or blue!

And finally, Wynn's greatest claim to fame (heh-heh) would have to be his appearing alongside Myrna Loy, Tab Hunter, and yours truly in the 1959 television remake of "Meet Me in St. Louis."

[post 030]

And now for something completely silly. It’s Mookie the Mimegician, who combines illusion mime with magic tricks. Think about it: now you don’t see it, and now you still don’t see it.

This is from my son Nathaniel’s variety show, The Moon, presented bi-weekly at the Royal Oak in Williamsburg — Brooklyn, not Virginia. About time I plugged it. Mookie is the talented Michael Blaiklock, who you can see more of on Comedy Central’s Secret Girlfriend.

[post 029]

A Guest Post by Jonathan Lyons

Back in 1979, while I was stationed at a Navy training center in San Diego, I attended an Alice Cooper concert. For those who don’t know, Alice was known for putting on an elaborate stage show, including simulated hanging and beheading. He’s been called the Godfather of Shock Rock. This show had an electric chair.

To open the show, a full size movie screen hung center stage, and a film of a vodka bottling plant plays to the live warm up music of Alice’s band. In the last shot of the film, a bottle falls over toward camera, with the tip very close. At this point, as though coming out of the bottle, Alice Cooper jumps through the screen. Not tearing it. The screen had slits cut vertically across the entire area. I think the screen material was also elastic, to make it easier to pass through. I have learned that was referred to as the “magic screen.”

Later on the magic screen was an integral part of a remarkable bit of physical comedy. On the screen, they projected something that I remember as a chase film, very Keystone Kops, with Alice escaping from a mental institution, being pursued by men in white coats. But it was the magic screen that made this so special. The performers on the stage synchronized to the movie, so they could literally jump through the screen, and magically appear in the movie! It was like watching “Sherlock Jr.” performed live. I recall there being a bomb, as in a cannonball, with a lit fuse, and the word “BOMB” in block lettering on it, that was tossed into and out of the movie. The effect was fantastic. There was music composed specifically for this event. This song was called “All Strapped Up.”

While looking for references for this blog post, I discovered a concert film was recorded and released on VHS. The tape is no longer available, but it is fully viewable on Youtube, in 8 parts. On youtube I discover, it was the very show I attended! I am somewhere in the front, pressed up against the boards, with only glowering security guards between myself and Alice. Though I’m never visible, it’s a treat to see the show again.

Unfortunately, the magic screen segments were not included in the video. Since it would have been a video of a projected film, it may not have looked good. The opening of the film, the vodka bottling plant, was original footage, not the projected film. When Alice jumped through, they just cut to the live shot In this video, when the cut to the stage happens, you can see the screen recovering from his entrance.

In researching this piece, I have come to the conclusion that Alice Cooper has a little bit of clown in him.

EXHIBIT A. The opening to the concert film “The Strange Case of Alice Cooper.” Alice personally introduces the film, and he says: “In any disastrous situation there’s something funny. I mean, somebody must have slipped on a banana peel right before the bomb hit in Hiroshima.”

EXHIBIT B. During an earlier live show, Alice had a pineapple upside down cake thrown into his face, and he handled it very professionally. Most rockers would have gotten angry at the crowd.

EXHIBIT C. Although the video of the magic screen isn’t available, the music for “All Strapped Up” is available. After about 1 minute it unmistakably develops into silent comedy music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iuS6gYjrxO0

[NOTE: Unfortunately this link has been removed by YouTube. —jt]

EXHIBIT D: DVD reviewer Dan MacIntosh had this to say:

“Alice Cooper almost ruins a perfectly good concert film with his lowbrow comedy”

Alice Cooper’s show, in addition to the “shock” and “death” effects, were also a bit silly at times. The “All Strapped Up” magic screen comedy was the most lighthearted of all. I think Alice knew he couldn’t be too serious, or the show would be a total downer. I have not seen a Marilyn Manson show, but I don’t believe he has learned that lesson.

[post 028]

Amsterdam is known more for its street performance than its variety theatres, or as Charlie Frye forewarned me,"not too much Variete, except in the windows." I loved the city, loved biking all over the place, but in my four days there this June I didn't find much street performance either. Maybe I went at the wrong time or to the wrong place, but several trips through Dam Square netted me only one street performer, a British juggler/contortionist.

Can you name this street performer?
His show was not elaborate, his big tricks being to pass his entire body through a narrow hoop while balancing a ball on his forehead and to roll a juggling fireball all over his body, including down his pants. But it all worked well because he was quite funny. Unfortunately you'll have to take my word for it because my hard drive crash this summer deprives us not only of footage of his routine, which he said he was happy to have presented on this blog, but also his exact name. I'm thinking it was something like "The Impossible Paul." And there are a few seconds of his act on YouTube, but they don't really do him justice.

But before moving on to greener pastures in Berlin, here's something even more random, an Amsterdam street poster (left) that reminded me of an old Hanlon-Lees poster (right).



















On to Berlin
The train ride from Amsterdam to Berlin is quite pleasant, and it's nice to see all those northern Europe wind turbines at work! And it's not surprising to see a lot more in the way of performance in Berlin, a city of nearly 3.5 million people, whereas Amsterdam is actually quite small: 740,000. There's variety theatre, circus (old & nouveau), street performance, big commercial theatres (Mel Brooks' The Producers has brought the Führer back to Berlin), and of course the ubiquitous Blue Man Group.




As my (good) luck would have it, I was just in time for the...

6th Annual Berlin Street Festival
am Mariannenplatz, Berlin Kreuzberg
12.-14. June 2009

The acts here are international and there's enough going on to schedule a Berlin trip around it. Unlike the Antibes street festival, this one is all in the same neighborhood, usually with acts performing on four stages at the same time, as well as juggling workshops for the non-juggler. This creates a more festive atmosphere, especially with all the great food, including one bakery that actually brought their own oven to the park! Alas, my video footage and some of my notes fell victim to my infamous hard drive crash, but let me at least single out my favorite show of the day I visited, Che Cirque, a solo act by Juan Cersosimo, an Argentinian currently living in Brussels.

Cersosimo is multi-talented, but his claim to fame is as a trick cyclist; he was the BMX national champion of Argentina in 1996 and of all of South America in 1997. Yeah, he's got himself some skills.

































He also works quite well with audience volunteers, quite gently, making them look good rather than embarrassing them for cheap laughs. Here's his promo video from his web site, which offers some snippets though I wouldn't say it really captures the spirit of the live performance:







Is that a circus hiding behind those bushes?
You know what's really cool? Walking or driving down a street and discovering a circus by accident, that's what. This happened to me in Berlin, so of course I walked in, and when I saw a small one-ring set-up with a solo trapeze suspended overhead, I asked when the circus would be performing. I was told that the variety show would be putting on shows the next two evenings. I had stumbled upon the Shake circus tent, home for circus, Shakespeare, and all sorts of variety entertainment. Unlike the United States, where live variety shows are not a big part of mainstream theatre outside of Vegas, the word still has meaning in Europe.


The next night we headed back to the tent and took in the show — variety indeed —a mixture of professional and student performances serving up a smorgasbord of circus, clowning, magic, poetry, and dramatic readings. The poetry and the readings were of course in German — and the functionality of mine is intentionally limited to the beer hall — so a certain longueur set in during those segments, but the rest had some real rewards to offer, including a magician duo, several solo trapeze acts, and a nice physical comedy act performed by two guys ostensibly horsing around at the beach. A pleasant two hours.


Un Horizonte Cuadrado
Another happy find was a troupe of six Chilean trapeze artists who performed their show, Un Horizonte Cuadrado, at a Berlin beer garden. Google tells me their name means "One Horizon Square," though I'm betting there's a lot better English translation lurking out there. I can't claim this show was physical comedy, but it was highly physical and it was not without some genuinely comic moments. Before it started, I was worried that there'd be no way for these six performers suspended from as many trapezes to keep our interest for an hour, but I was happy to be wrong. That they did, and much of it was exquisite.

Here's a minute of YouTube promo:



They actually have more substantial footage on their Flickr page. (Just click on the thumbnails that have a video PLAY button icon.) Here's one selection that shows more of the duet interactions:



In addition to the beautiful movement, what I especially liked were the relationships that developed between these "characters" as they moved from trapeze to trapeze, one moment sharing, another moment vying for power, sometimes antagonistic, other times flirtatious. All in all, highly original and creative.



Soap
After an eye-opening side-trip to Poznan (Poland) to visit both the Academy of Music and the Academy of Fine Arts on college business, we returned to Berlin and caught the heavily promoted production, Soap, presented in a cabaret setting at the historic variety theatre, Chamäleon. This was variety theatre in the form of a revue, all of it revolving around bathtubs and scantily-clad but highly skilled bathers.
















Here's a 35-second commercial advertising the show:




And here's a longer (three-and-a-half minute) preview of it that appeared in France on the television network Arte:



I might say the show is Vegas-style, though that doesn't prove anything since I've never been to Vegas. It's slick, a little bit naughty but not too much, and the performers are exceptional acrobats and jugglers. One woman who does all kinds of foot juggling from within one of the tubs was nothing short of amazing — there are glimpses of her in the Arte video above — as was one of the male acrobats. Another act I had never seen before (though that doesn't prove anything either) was a juggler who did a sort of strip tease while continuing to juggle three balls flawlessly. The only weak link in the show, unfortunately, was the clown, who was muggy and predictable, though in fairness the audience liked her a lot more than I did.

Is it a good show? Not really. It's the kind of show that looks better on the promo video, rather than vice-versa. None of it makes much sense, the soap and tubs are a gimmick that is used very inconsistently, the semi-operatic singer seems to be there just to give it the pretense of art, and it's all a little too calculatingly cutesy-commercial for my jaded tastes. Did the audience like it? Very much so. Was I glad I saw it. Yep, but for the individual acts, not so much the overall presentation.

And Berlin? Can't wait to get back!