|
|
Oct. 19, 2007
Jewish humor transcends time
Why do we laugh? What makes Jewish humor distinctively Jewish?
... and other questions.
EUGENE KAELLIS
Laughing is a sign of enjoyment, it binds people, it makes them
feel good and it ventilates their lungs.
Max Eastman once described two kinds of laughter: the titamatita,
which comes only from one's mouth and is low level, and the yochadabocha,
in which the lungs, abdomen, throat, everything heaves uncontrollably
in repeated paroxysms of delight. Eastman even came up with a theory
of humor. Why some things are funny and others not, is still a difficult,
perhaps impossible, question to answer. A lot depends on context
and experience.
Jewish humor is usually deflationary but sympathetic. Jewish comedy,
on the other hand, can be biting and aggressive. Jews have been
so prominent in creating and presenting comedy that it is impossible
to think of laughter without Jews.
Here is a partial list of prominent North American Jewish performing
comedians, in no particular order: Weber and Fields, Smith and Dale,
Ed Wynn, Jerry Seinfeld, Bette Midler, Mort Sahl, Lenny Bruce, Myron
Cohen, Jack Leonard, Phil Silvers, George Jessel, Sophie Tucker,
Gene Wilder, Henny Youngman, Woody Allen, Gilda Radner, Carl Reiner,
Mel Brooks, Sam Levenson, Rodney Dangerfield, Walter Mathau, Danny
Kaye, Peter Sellers, Mike Nichols, Elaine May, Jack Benny, Jackie
Mason, George Burns, Carol Burnett, Joan Rivers, Judy Holiday, Avery
Schreiber, Shelly Berman, Sheki Green, Jerry Stiller, Zero Mostel,
Eddie Cantor, Morey Amsterdam, Rodney Dangerfield, Sid Caesar, Milton
Berle, Buddy Hackett, Jerry Lewis, the Three Stooges, the Ritz Brothers,
the Marx Brothers, Fanny Brice, Don Rickles, Barbra Streisand and
the list goes on and on. In the recent past, as many as 80 per cent
of North American professional comedians were Jewish.
The styles of Jewish comics ranges from slapstick to sophisticated
from stand-up to sitcoms. Jews, for example, Neil Simon, S.J. Perelman
and George Kaufman have been prominent in writing comedy for stage,
TV and movies. And, of course, the greatest Yiddish writer, Sholom
Aleichem, was primarily a humorist. Even in art, there are the slyly
funny renderings of Marc Chagall.
Why such a plethora of Jews? What was there to laugh about? When
life is not patently tragic, it is often threatening and difficult.
So, we laugh in order not to cry, and out of spite, goes one "logical"
explanation for the exuberance of Jewish humor. It is similar to
the determination of the early Chassidim, who, in spite of poverty
and pogroms, sang and danced to a frenzy of joyous celebration.
Lawrence Epstein refers to the "haunted smile of Jews,"
the smile oif tsulokhes, again out of spite, not from malice,
but simply from a determination not to let "them" wear
you down.
If you're in the proper frame of mind, almost everything is a joke
or at least has the potential for humor. Take the Book of Job. Here's
the question: Is Job a tragedy, or really a joke of cosmic proportions?
How close is it to the calamities of everyone's life – the
depredations of aging and illness, economic catastrophe, failed
ambitions, the loss of loved ones? One way or another, everyone
is Job. So, on whom was the joke? Answer: on all of us. And what
saves us from despair? Only clinging to the faith that Job so stubbornly
held on to. Even without the probably fictional "happy ending,"
he resisted the urge to "curse God and die."
Ludwig Wittgenstein, the Austrian-Jewish philosopher who was in
the same grade school class as a certain Adolf Schickelkgruber (better
known as Hitler), claimed that a good and serious philosophical
work could be written consisting entirely of jokes. And, based on
Wittgenstein's observation, John Paulos, in a refreshing revision
of Descartes' famous aphorism, wrote: "I think, therefore,
I laugh." He points out that, lurking behind every statement
of fact and logic, is its humorous sibling. Two phrases can share
the same syntax, yet one is funny, and the other is not. "Honesty
compels me," is not funny, but "My mother compels me,"
can be. In Freudian terms, it exposes the super-ego, the demanding
parent, whose now internalized message, allegedly civilizes us as
we grow out of childhood.
Jews generated humor wherever they went, but New York City was always
Jewish humor's epicenter. Would-be comics living in the city had
the opportunity to develop their comedic style in the nearby "Borscht
Belt" circuit. Summer resorts, the most famous of which was
Grossinger's, where they could wait on tables during the day and
make people laugh at night, provided many Jewish comedians their
first gig.
There has been a lot of commentary on Israeli humor, comparing it
with Yiddish humor. Some of it, as in every culture, grows out of
annoyance. Some Israeli humor reflects the talmudic heritage of
examining a question from almost any conceivable angle. In one comedy
sketch, policemen and thieves sit down together and discuss the
sociology of crime.
Though it differs significantly from Yiddish humor, rooted in tragedy,
actual or at least potential, there is enough danger in Israeli
life to provide points of similarity. Yet, as George Mikes, the
British-Jewish humorist comments, Israeli humor differs from the
humor of Yiddish Jews and their descendants, at least for one generation.
Mikes refers to an atmosphere of self-assurance among Israelis,
bordering on and often merging into a pride that inhibits the development
of the familiar Yiddish type of humor It's as if the Jews, so often
the butt of jokes about their always "alien" origin, were
now turning the tables on their own "geenhorns." In the
early days of Israel, for example, German or Austrian academics
or professionals, working, out of necessity, on construction sites,
were lampooned by sabras. They simply couldn't keep up with the
others because each time they passed a brick, there was the ritual
of "Bitte, Herr Doktor," and "Danke, Herr Doktor."
Historically, humor has appeared best in an atmosphere of want,
fear and a cynicism that somehow manages to avoid despair. But almost
any aspect of society can provide the raw material for humor. Ephraim
Kishon, who was Israel's greatest comic writer, displayed a mild
and loving satire directed against self-important bureaucrats.
One Yiddish-type comical retort was made by Morey Amsterdam, a total
non sequitur except when seen in a social-cultural context. See
if you find it funny: Morey is walking down the street, minding
his own business, obviously preoccupied. A friend bumps into him.
"Hi," says the friend cheerfully. Morey looks up and scowls.
"Whatsa mattah," he replies accusingly, "I can't
make a living?!" Maybe you didn't get it. Having to explain
a joke is an open admission of defeat, but nonetheless, here is
the, I hope unnecessary, explanation. In Morey's mind-set, the world
is incessantly against him and everything that occurs, even an innocent
question, somehow becomes hostile.
Sound familiar? Now, do you get it?
Eugene Kaellis is a retired academic living in New Westminster.
^TOP
|
|
