Comedy and tragedy

Last night I went to see THE ARISTOCRATS, a movie I have been dying to see since word got out about how good it was last January, at the Sundance Festival. And after watching it, I believe the following: there are two types of people, those that bust a gut laughing as the movie progresses, and those that don’t. Three guesses as to which camp I fall into.

The odd thing was that I kept wondering about all the comedians who didn’t have a chance to tell the joke — it would have been so cool to see variants from Bob Hope, Milton Berle, Redd Foxx, Alastair Sim. Martin & Lewis from their Borscht Belt days. The Marx Brothers. Maurice Chevalier telling it in French. But then, maybe that’s the point — that if they all had the opportunity to do so, it wouldn’t nearly be as good as what I could imagine.

But suffice to say that I was thoroughly entertained and in a very good mood until I got home and checked in with some news search engines. Then gasped in shock. Then checked out blogs for confirmation and well, what on earth can I possibly say about this that hasn’t been said already in the comments box? Not only is it the diametric opposite of what I’d just spent nearly two hours laughing at, but it’s really beyond comprehension.

So why link the two, however tenuously and dangerously, in my mind? Because of the tendency to make instant judgment calls.

THE ARISTOCRATS is about an incredibly filthy joke that can’t be told in public. And yet, the movie’s available for public consumption in select cities — and not only is it funny, but it shines a light into the world of comedy, one-upmanship, and stylistic differences. The fact that the morning after, I’m still thinking of all sorts of things related to the movie speaks to its power. But some might just see “dirty joke” and instantly recoil. That would be a shame.

With PBW, there are assclowns who might judge her for her son’s crimes, hold her up as an example of failed motherhood, condemn her for not doing enough. When that would be wrongheaded to say the least. Tragedy touches everyone involved, no matter who’s the victim, who’s the perpetrator, and who’s on the periphery. And all anyone can do is the very best one can, even in the face of terrible choices and worse outcomes.

It also speaks to the nature of the blogosphere. People think they know each other, how they think and how they act based on what they post online. Skirmishes develop, even little petty fights. But in the end, anyone who blogs chooses to reveal what he or she wants to, and to allow people inside their heads in a certain way. Yet no one really knows, unless they are good friends of a certain standing. That Lynn chose to make her statement in this manner speaks volumes to the person she really is — not the person she may have been judged as being, true or otherwise.

Every horrible tragedy has its catharsis. Every incredibly funny comedy has its dark side. And after that, everything’s pretty much a shade of gray.