Some of the time it bothers me, but most of the time it don't (Rough)

It is long past time for Part 2 of my series on the Laramie Project. It's been over a month and a half, but I've been far too lazy to do anything with anything, so I have done nothing. I hope to change that, but I am sure I won't.

As you might know if you have read my first, excessively long post about the show, in this installment I plan to talk about the use of humor in the Laramie Project. As you might expect, there is nothing unfunny about hate crime, and the Tectonics seemed to know this when they wrote their play. It is full of funny lines and monologues, and some characters seem almost entirely comedic. They are not always played up, but a good actor can find any number of potential jokes scattered throughout the play. The Theater Guild's production made what seemed to me the strong choice to seize these moments of comic relief to the fullest. Audiences were consistently taken by surprise when what they assumed would be a depressing but enriching experience made them laugh their asses off. It would be impossible to make the Laramie Project a comedy without earning a "Go to Hell, Go Directly to Hell" card, but tackling the humor inherent in the script helps to emphasize the main message of the play, which is not wholly one of sad remembrance, but of renewal.

A significant reason for the success of the humor in Laramie is that it is entirely unforced. None of the characters are so crass as to crack wise while being interviewed about a brutal murder. There is no wit; the comedy is based on the misspeech and foolishness of people. I am sure it must be hard to speak well when you know that anything you say could be put up on a stage in a blue state, twisted out of context, and branded as the words of a homophobic, conservative, hill-billy asshole. Characters are constantly trying to explain themselves, justify themselves, correct their every lapsus lingua, and it's funny. Sheri Anneson has this problem when she is pressed to explain that SoL is "Shit Out of Luck". Sure it's a funny phrase, but the real humor is in her charming unwillingness to have her uncultured figure of speech on the record. The comedy all seems to stem from this sort of unplanned sincerity, whether a character is defending their rough edges or not realizing that they exist (a la Matt Galloway's "Funneling" monologue towards the end). It makes you realize that the characters are real people who have trouble speaking on their feet, not Shakespearean constructs who can quibble on three definitions of a word exquisitely every third line.

Besides this added realism and relatability, the humor has a very real dramatic importance. Comic relief is a phrase that gets thrown around a lot to describe humor in serious works, but it's vague, and often inaccurate. Typically, it is used to imply that comedy relieves the emotional tension of tragedy. Basically, it's the job of the drunken porter to cool you down so you don't try to commit suicide everytime you watch MacBeth. This is often the case, but like every theory ever advanced in the world of the arts, it doesn't explain everything. I have also heard another theory of Comic Relief, taking Relief instead in the sense of Topographic Relief. Comedy enhances tragedy by the emotional contrast. This is another good use of humor, but it still doesn't cover everything. Just off the top of my head, I can see at least two other applications, which I am going to call Comic Tension and Comic Resolution. I'll give an example of each from the Laramie Project, to try to see explain how I see each, then try to wrap up with some sort of a conclusion.

The specifics of the play are understandably being swept from the corridors of my memory by the the custodian of Time (Lu-Tze!), so this is going to be difficult and probably inaccurate. The examples of simple Comic Relief (both types) in the play seem fairly uncommon. I can't think of any clear examples. That type of humor tends to stand by itself, unrelated to the surrounding events, except as contrast, like the Gravedigger Scene in Hamlet. (I don't know why my examples are from Shakespeare). The comedy in Laramie is almost never like this; it is always tailored to directly heighten emotional tension, especially in the beginning or middle, or resolve it, at the end.

A good example of the first sort is Doc O'Connor's monologue in the beginning of the beat entitled "Matthew". He talks about when he first met Matt Shepherd, and contradicts all of the media's descriptions of him because "this man, this man was 5'2'. Maybe 5'1". Doc is a funny character, mostly because he makes no effort to hide his rustic affability, and this monologue is no exception. It seems like it would be a perfect example of humor that decreases tension, but it doesn't. It's a poignant moment [I just want to digress here to point out my weakness for qualifiers. I am way too scared of strong language; I almost put 'sort of' before poignant, for the eight billionth time in this essay], because eulogies aren't usually humorous. You don't expect anyone to have funny things to say about a tragic figure, and since they are positive, they make you feel more strongly for Matthew and the people who cared about him.

Comic Resolution is when comedy is used not as a respite from the emotional tension of sadness, but as its conclusion, as a way to wrap and signal that everything is alright. Their are two good examples in Laramie: Reggie Fluty and Marge Murray's last conversation,and Matt Galloway's last monologue. They function differently, but both fall under this heading. Reggie and Marge's chat reveals that Reggie is HIV-Negative, and ends with them bickering over Reggie's decision to celebrate her health by kissing every member of the police force. It's a happy scene, but what makes it is the contended quarreling of the ending. It's a sign that everything is alright, all is well. The winter of discontent and sorrow has become glorious spring of laughter.

In Galloway's monologue, he talks about how testifying in the trial was good for him, because he is a natural public speaker and talking to a jury is always a challenge for him. It is probably the funniest bit in the play, especially considering that it is rather incongruous with the rest of the denouement. Unlike the rest of the conclusion, which deals with leaving Laramie and looks to the future, the monologue dwells on the past. In doing so, it reveals that even during the trials, the darkest part of the ordeal, people were finding things to be happy about. The human spirit is fundamentally optimistic, it says, and will always find something to laugh about.

And that is the fundamental message in all of the humor in the Laramie Project. People love to laugh, and it helps them cope with hard times. It may not be the only way of healing the wounds, but an ability to not take yourself too seriously and see the duality of laughter and tears helps communities move on. Or something like that; I haven't read it in too long, so I couldn't really get very textual and it's too late for really deep thinking.

Tune in for the final part of my Laramie Trilogy: Performing metatheatricality.