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I don’t like to brag, but I can make someone laugh without doing a thing—not a peep uttered, not a word spoken, not a muscle moved. Absolutely nothing. Of course, you and everyone else can as well. In fact, it happens more often than you think.
When nothing becomes something to laugh at
I’ve spent many a post relating the numerous strengths of a new theory to explain why we laugh. The Mutual Vulnerability Theory holds that laughter is a form of conscious, nonverbal communication, one that reminds others that we, they, and indeed everyone, possess certain shortcomings and limitations. It happens when we demonstrate a (usually) minor imperfection or when someone else does. Or when someone verbally highlights their own or someone else’s imperfection. And it can even be the result of an exceptionally favorable trait being exposed, such that the vulnerability of others is laid bare by comparison.
These are the jokes, jibes, and clever riddles we are all so familiar with, and there are the tickles, chases, and pratfalls we relish during play. The vast majority of the time, amusement comes as a result of things we say or do.
But not always. Among the many strengths of the Mutual Vulnerability Theory is its ability to explain the exceptions as well as the rule. In this case, those occasions when it depends not on what’s said or done but rather on what doesn’t happen that we think should: the witty comeback one just can’t articulate, the failure to move out of the water balloon’s flight path; the utter bewilderment that prevents us from even understanding a problem, let alone solving it. Whatever it is that should transpire doesn’t, and thus, its absence reveals the vulnerability.
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We see examples such as these in our day-to-day, conversational joking, of course, but they are also a tried and true staple of stand-up performances, movies, and other varieties of “formal humor.” They allow the audience a moment or two to work out for themselves what the normal—the anticipated—response should be, but then substitute inaction instead. Whatever we see in its place, puzzlement, uncertainty, fear, embarrassment, humiliation, paralysis, or shock…becomes clear evidence of one sort of vulnerability or another and drops someone’s status down a bit. With it, the comic or comedy writers hope to solicit our sympathetic “lifting laughter” to counter the loss of status or, if the target is someone we perceive as an arrogant fool or bully with undeservedly high standing, scornful “lowering laughter” instead.
Inaction in action
Let’s look at a good (though admittedly imperfect) example from the sitcom The Big Bang Theory. Follow along with this YouTube video (right-click this link and select “open in new window”).
In Leonard’s and Sheldon’s apartment, Penny, Leonard’s love interest (and a character not known for her faultless logic or critical thinking skills), sits opposite Leonard (the super-nerd physicist) over a chess game in progress—a pastime familiar to most viewers.
At time stamp 0:05, the audience laughs as Penny moves her knight to a new position, with Leonard looking on intently. Her calling the piece “horsey” suggests she either can’t remember its correct name [poor memory] or that Leonard hasn’t bothered to tell her [ignorance, plus omission or condescension on Leonard’s part]. Whatever was assumed about her initial status relative to Leonard’s, and both their statuses relative to the audience members, Penny’s has certainly dropped with the use of the moniker “horsey.” Taking for granted that the audience is familiar with these two main characters and likes them both, their amusement (the emotion that prompts us to affirm mutual vulnerability) would manifest as supportive lifting laughter for both individuals. In fact, this will be the case with every laugh expressed hereafter.
0:12. After Penny asks if she had indeed checkmated him with her last move and Leonard’s several-second nonreply (and a small shift backward in his chair, so yes, that was a slight cheat), the audience picks up on his embarrassment: a confused look of disbelief. Penny’s status has apparently jumped up—not simply past her original ranking but well above his. (At least his chess player/coach status; he’s still better in many other skill sets, just as she is better than he is in many realms. It’s the shift in the original status relationship we consider at this moment.) In any event, we can clearly see how Leonard’s silence deviates from the “norm” and how it draws the audience’s attention to his cognitive failure and the resulting drop in status. As such, yet another affirmation of shared vulnerability (aka laughter) by the audience is prompted.
A few more laughs emerge as Penny presses him on whether her “lighthouse” and “pointy head” pieces have really ensnared his king, with Leonard using some rather poor deception to weasel his way out of admitting his defeat. Then, skipping over the antics of Sheldon for the moment, Penny procures yet another laugh at Leonard’s expense, at time stamp 2:54, by announcing that his pretext was all in vain, again reminding everyone who the new chess master is.
Long time no see
For an even better example of the comedic pause, one much longer than Leonard’s, enjoy this YouTube video of Victor Borge and his hapless assistant (again, right-click the link and select “open in new window”). Watch for a particularly clever element within the setup at the time stamp 4:20 and then the beginning of the “gag” at 5:24. The pause in question becomes evident at 5:30, and silent “punchline”, set up earlier, karate chops the audience’s funny bone at 5:45.
It’s the art of humor at its finest.
© John Charles Simon