IMG #1: Still Life

 

"Are You Going to Scarborough Fair?"

An Advent Calendar: Day 14

"I have often had a fancy for writing a romance about an English yachtsman who slightly miscalculated his course and discovered England under the impression that it was a new island in the South Seas.  ... There will probably be a general impression that the man who landed (armed to the teeth and talking by signs) to plant the British flag on that barbaric temple which turned out to be the Pavilion at Brighton, felt rather a fool. ... But if you imagine that he felt a fool, or at any rate that the sense of folly was his sole or his dominant emotion, then you have not studied with sufficient delicacy the rich romantic nature of the hero of this tale. His mistake was really a most enviable mistake; and he knew it, if he was the man I take him for. What could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with all the humane security of coming home again? What could be better than to have all the fun of discovering South Africa without the disgusting necessity of landing there? What could be more glorious than to brace one's self up to discover New South Wales and then realize, with a gush of happy tears, that it was really old South Wales. 

This at least seems to me the main problem for philosophers, and is in a manner the main problem of this book. How can we contrive to be at once astonished at the world and yet at home in it? How can this queer cosmic town, with its many-legged citizens, with its monstrous and ancient lamps, how can this world give us at once the fascination of a strange town and the comfort and honour of being our own town?

... [In this book] I wish to set forth my faith as particularly answering this double spiritual need, the need for that mixture of the familiar and the unfamiliar which Christendom has rightly named romance. ... The thing I do not propose to prove, the thing I propose to take as common ground between myself and any average reader, is this desirability of an active and imaginative life, picturesque and full of a poetical curiosity, a life such as western man at any rate always seems to have desired. .... [And] nearly all people I have ever met in this western society in which I live would agree to the general proposition that we need this life of practical romance; the combination of something that is strange with something that is secure. We need so to view the world as to combine an idea of wonder and an idea of welcome. We need to be happy in this wonderland without once being merely comfortable. It is THIS achievement of my creed that I shall chiefly pursue in these pages.

But I have a peculiar reason for mentioning the man in a yacht, who discovered England. For I am that man in a yacht. I discovered England. ... I am the man who with the utmost daring discovered what had been discovered before. ... [F]or this book explains how I fancied I was the first to set foot in Brighton and then found I was the last. It recounts my elephantine adventures in pursuit of the obvious. ... I am the fool of this story, and no rebel shall hurl me from my throne. I freely confess all the idiotic ambitions of the end of the nineteenth century. I did, like all other solemn little boys, try to be in advance of the age. Like them I tried to be some ten minutes in advance of the truth. And I found that I was eighteen hundred years behind it. I did strain my voice with a painfully juvenile exaggeration in uttering my truths. And I was punished in the fittest and funniest way, for I have kept my truths: but I have discovered, not that they were not truths, but simply that they were not mine. When I fancied that I stood alone I was really in the ridiculous position of being backed up by all Christendom. It may be, Heaven forgive me, that I did try to be original; but I only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion. The man from the yacht thought he was the first to find England; I thought I was the first to find Europe. I did try to found a heresy of my own; and when I had put the last touches to it, I discovered that it was orthodoxy [the right faith]."

This is a fragment from G.K. Chesterton's famous introduction to his remarkable and fascinating book, Orthodoxy. It relates to the Advent path in many ways; for one, because Advent, just like any other season of the liturgical year, or any recurring feast, is an attempt and opportunity to "rediscover" the familiar, to find again the strange and the surprising in what we thought we knew so well, to be shocked anew by what we are tempted to take for granted. 

And what makes the surprise, the shock, the (re)discovery possible, is the fact that the truth, while never-changing, is ever-fresh, and ever-young - it is alive, and is life. While error, while always seemingly new and attractive and diverse, always turns out to be, at the end of the day, repetitive, the same, same old same old error - and rooted in un-living, and ultimately dead. 

One, then, is the renewed promise of romance and hope (and, as Chesterton mentioned, who does not need that?); while the other always turns out to be prosaic everydayness and mediocrity - and with the solidity and duration of dust.  

 

Happy Mondays: The Greatest Hits (6)

Continuing our Happy Mondays series, let us spend some time talking about what I consider to be the best talk show, and talk show host, of the moment - Graham Norton and his eponymous The Graham Norton Show. And, both as a way of introducing you to this show, and of supporting my claim, let us briskly go over some of the elements that set this show apart, within a field (or genre) that by now has lost a lot of its glamour and sparkle.

First of all, it is a British talk show; and that matters, both because the rules governing British TV are more lax, allowing for a less straitjacketed and artificial interaction; and also because this means that the guests will usually be a mix of American and British stars (often having a British comedian complementing a lineup of major American stars). This mix also helps in terms of the communication style that the show tries to cultivate - namely, a somewhat loose, entertaining, and as much as possible genuine, tone. And how does having this kind of a mix of guests help? Well, because the Brits, just like the Australians or the Kiwis (New Zealanders), tend to be more direct (one could even say, more genuine) in their public appearances, than their American peers (who, for reasons both cultural and professional, clearly separate their visible and partly artificial “public persona,” from their actual, more genuine, private self; the ones from "the Commonwealth" seem to be more reckless, as it were, in that regard.).   

A good example of this might be found in the following clip, which features two very talented (top-notch, really) American comedians (Steve Carrell and Kristen Wiig) and an Irish one (well, ok - at least he's from the British islands – Chris O’Dowd). Watching this short (and very funny) clip, you will perhaps get a sense of what I am referring to - maybe by observing the American guests’ reactions to O’Dowd’s ridiculous story; and by sensing, perhaps, the inherent difference between the self-deprecating tone and attitude of the Irishman, and the guarded, constructed tone of the typical American public persona.

And this looseness, directness, even genuineness that the show cultivates, all contribute to providing it with a freshness that also sets it apart from its competitors. But this isn't all.

Another aspect that sets Graham Norton’s show apart is its particular format; or, more precisely, how well Graham makes this format work. As you might or might not have guessed, all the guests are brought in at the same time, and all of them share the same couch, throughout the show - and the conversation happens with each of them, and between them, and with all of them. In a way, this is like a prime-time version of a fun and fancy dinner table (by the way, the guests do consume alcoholic drinks during the show). But one has to know how to make this format work – i.e. 'how to be a good dinner party host." Compare, for example, how smoothly this works on The Graham Norton Show, with how clunky this same format feels on James Corden's The Late Late Show (who actually borrowed the format from The Graham Norton Show, just like he borrowed other elements from other successful British shows). But Graham makes this format work, and work well.

Indeed, it seems that for Graham Norton this role of "dinner / talk show host" fits perfectly - both because of natural endowments, and also because he understands what his role actually is, as a host: to facilitate a good, rolling, entertaining conversation, for the delight both of the public, and of the guests themselves (who, at turns, are both protagonists and quasi-members of the public, in the course of that rolling conversation). Keeping the show “entertaining” is also helped by the fact that Graham Norton has, without a doubt, a very keen and quick sense of humor; by which I do not mean a sense for “jokes,” but an ability to sense when humor is "in the air," as it were; a sense for the humorous - for allowing it to happen, for cultivating it, and for bringing it forth, as needed.

A good example of how well Norton performs his role as a host, is the following clip, in which a conversation develops between the guests in such an organic manner, that they almost forget of the host altogether; and Graham Norton allows for this to happen, and for the conversation to flow – and what results is spontaneous, genuine humor, and true entertainment, which delights both the guests, and implicitly the public. This is what it means to do one's job - as a host - exquisitely.

One can be certain that in putting all this together Graham Norton has the support of a crack team – but that would be true of all talk shows, since they all have a sizable team working behind the curtains. What this show’s team does so well, however, and the way in which it manages to support the particular style of this show so well, is by finding and bringing to Norton points of conversation that are also points of shared interest (or common experiences) between the guests - which then allow the host to easily move from one guest to another - involving them each and all in a conversation that engages them all.  

The top notch guests that he manages to book on an almost constant basis also help make the show very successful; but this did not come overnight, but was the result of Graham himself making the show successful, first with lesser-known guests - and then attracting higher profile guests exactly because of demonstrating his abilities as a talk show host.

And one can also assume that the guests actually feel good - that they have a good time - on Graham Norton’s show. And (besides the booze) perhaps the reason for that is that Graham is able to create good relationships, a good communication, with each guest - and with very different kinds of guests – as between very different guests. See him here with a couch that includes a “hard” rapper, Ice Cube (Straight Outta Compton); an “urban” American comedian, Kevin Hart; a British actress whom one might know from The Crown (but also from recently collecting the Oscar), Olivia Colman; and a British (and by now also American) star, Hugh Laurie. Very different personal styles and cultural backgrounds – and yet they all seem to feel at ease, on that couch - and also with each other. Thanks in good measure, I would say, to the skills of the host.

[watch from 20:22 to 28:30; the last part of the segment is especially triumphant]

Of course, there are harder edges to our Graham Norton, as well; for example, what one could call a keen sense for the moment's “hierarchy of fame" (hierarchy that is readily, if gingerly, enforced). For example, although all the guests are brought in right at the beginning, they enter the stage one by one, so that the one with the highest star power always enters last, being thus seated on the couch closest to Graham. And it is indeed funny when one notices how one guest may be “last" to come in (and thus first in the hierarchy) one year, while a couple of years later he is the first to come in (and thus, of course, gets to be seated at the end of the couch).

Similarly, one can also notice a difference in tone and attitude between how Norton interacts with his star guests, and - well, the public, the common Joe. Not that he is rude - but there is clearly a harsher tone, an impatience, a difference in how he relates to them - again, I would say, as a manifestation of his keen sense and respect for the "hierarcy of (star) power." It is also true, of course, that he needs to move the show along, and that non-entertainers always pose the danger of dragging down the tone and dynamic of the show - so a certain briskness..

But the famous “red chair” can be considered quite an apt embodiment of what I was just describing (this red chair is in fact my least favorite aspect of the show; I quite detest it). This is a chair (red, of course) in which (volunteer) members of the public get to sit down, in order to tell what they think is an entertaining story – under the somewhat merciless, often rash and quite arbitrary judgement of Norton and of (some of) his guests. The thing is that, whenever they (Graham & co.) feel that the member of the public (or the story) become uninteresting, they pull a lever - which literally throws the poor member of the public out of the chair, backwards.  

Yes, all is not, nor can it be, fresh and smelling of roses; and yet, for the reasons enumerated above (and others, I’m sure), The Graham Norton Show is without a doubt the most entertaining talk show of the moment (by which I mean that it has been that for many years, already), with a host who, both through natural and through cultivated skills, has managed to elevated his game and his show to the highest levels of the genre. Hats off, therefore, to Graham Norton - and to many more entertaining seasons! 

Other samples from the show:

- a most entertaining episode, featuring Jodie Foster, Russell Crowe, Ryan Gosling, and British comedian Greg Davies (who tells what might be one of the funniest true stories ever told on TV)

- a shorter bit in which Christ Pratt and British comedian John Bishop discover that they have a weird connection, a weird shared experience

- another famous episode (part 1 thereof), which featured Matt Damon, Bill Murray, Hugh Bonneville etc. 

The Category of Joy (7)

After our Easter Octave investigation into the category of joy, which we endeavored without pretensions of exhaustiveness, or even of utter precision – and during which we looked at the state of joy as being associated with (artistic) creation, with (a type of, or a state of) laughter, with the act of marriage, with unconditional love and with sacrifice, and finally with Resurrection (or what follows after the Resurrection) – after this week-long series of discussions, then, perhaps it is time now to draw a line and to summarize what we have learned, proposing some...

7. Conclusions

And what have we learned? Well, essentially, that the state of joy seems to be associated with a (true) expression of being. And we saw this in artistic expression (or creation) – with the artist who, like a bird, can but sing... And we saw this, in a similar, “natural” fashion, in the case of children at play – who are unruly, like “wild animals”, unless they are tamed and guided – but in whose play there is an inherent goodness, being the natural expression of their (pre-moral, or on-the-way-to-becoming-moral) being.

But here we get into more troublesome territory, and closer to error – by which I mean all the misguided attempts at pursuing “joy” - that is, all that generally passes under the name of “pursuit of happiness”, yet is lived as a pursuit of self-satisfaction, of self-enjoyment (in various guises). Yes, there is a natural goodness to being. However, our human condition also contains the choice  - of the right living out of being, or of the wrong living out thereof; and the difference between these alternatives is that one of them is actually truthful to the true order of our being – while the other one is not.

And the best example in this regard, and one that we discussed this past week, is marriage – understood as a re-enactment or, even more so, as a living out of the original truth of the human condition: “Man and woman he created them... in the image of God he created them... [and] God looked ... and found it very good” (Gen 1:27, 31) Yes, one felt a sense of peace, of serenity, of an act being in accordance with “how things should be” (in our own, and in general existence) – when one looked at that statuary group depicting the betrothal. There is, thus, a choice – for us, moral animals – of living according to the truth of our being (and of Being, itself) – or not.

And this choice is the choice of what is truer, better, greater - over what is less so (or even the opposite). And we saw this choice being lived out both in the example of marriage (as choosing one person means rejecting all others, forever), and of the monks of La Grande Chartreuse (or of the Trappist monastery of the Tibhirine). As these monks explained in the film sequences included, theirs was a choice of a greater happiness, of a greater love; greater, in the sense of truer and more complete.

Detail of the Transfiguration Mosaic
from the Basilica of Sant'Apollinare in Classe (6th century) 

The state of joy, then, is not some shallow, ir-responsible, selfish seeking of enjoyment and pleasure, of “fun”. Instead it seems to be a calmer, deeper state of being – in which our being is more truthful to what it truly is, and to what it truly desires – and thus to the true order of existence. And this can mean a living out of the natural self, as in the case of the artist and of the child - pre-moral, as it were, but soon enough needing to be guided by a moral choice: the artist needing discipline, and to say no to self-seeking exhibitionism, in order to remain truthful to his vocation; and the child needing to be guided and to be reined in, so that his joy may be complete. And it can also mean a sacrificial pursuit of the true order, of the truth of our selves - for example, as in marriage, or as in a life completely consecrated to the Being that is the Source of our being.

And we used the term “sacrificial”, and we discussed it – to immediately see that this is, in fact, a voluntary, and most delightful and pleasurable sacrifice (although, yes, it does include a “no” to certain impulses or parts of our selves, and it might include pain), because it is done joyously, out of love (marriage), and drawn by love (monastic vocation). Love... if ever there was a more misunderstood, misconstrued, oft-misused expression! And yet, in the case of this term, “love”, as well, the same distinction can easily help us: between a self-seeking love (pleasure, enjoyment, satisfaction of oneself) - and a self-giving love (of marriage; of monastic life; of unconditional love).

And, indeed, we did talk about unconditional love, as well, as a sort of a basis or condition for joy – namely, for the expression and manifestation of being. For example, as in the case of the watchful gaze and continued care of the grandmother (unrecognized, anonymized), which allows for the children to play. Or, on a grander – or deeper – scale, the unconditional love of, as it is written, the “heavenly Father, [who] makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust” (Mt. 5:45) – the constitutive foundation of the being of us all.

What do I mean? Well, the fact that - just like with the clueless children, or the fish in the pond – we simply find ourselves within being, and with being; in other words, that our being is not something of our own making, but is an unconditional, unmerited, free gift that we have received - and continue to receive. Being, then, seems to be a fruit of an unconditional love in action; and this is why the monks we cited talk about responding to a love (because we are not the initiators of this relationship of being).

And this takes us to the Resurrection – and to the “amen”, upon “amen”, upon “amen” of the Messiah chorus - which are the eternalized interjections expressing being, or life, finally and eternally victorious - that is, “being” without end.

In fact, the tremendous Easter Triduum (the three days, from the Last Supper, to the Resurrection) illustrates in a concentrated fashion the essential drama of all that we have been trying to express: the sacrifice that seems to be an inevitable corollary of choosing the good (or the truth of our being; as in the marriage choice, as in the monks' choice – and as in the cross of Good Friday), and the victory of Being, definitive, complete, and unalterable (over its apparent opposite – death, non-being, the diminishing of being, the corruption of being). This is how and why we associated “joy” with “Resurrection” – or, in fact, with what comes after the Resurrection. Because, if joy is the expression of being, then Resurrection (eternal life) is the final, complete, and definitive victory of being – its full manifestation. A state in which the members of the choir (which sings those “amens”) partake in the Being who is the very Source of our beings - in the unconditional Love that made us and that keeps our being in existence. Like the child who is drawn to the lap of the grandmother, so being tends toward the source of Being, which is Love.

Because being is - our self is - inherently dialogical, social, open to the other; yes, this is another thing that we have discovered, or that was confirmed, yet again, over this past week. And, since being is dialogical – so is joy; and thus we noticed that every manifestation of the state of joy also entails a relationship with, or at least an openness toward, an other (explicitly or implicitly, visibly or invisibly). This is true for the artistic act – for the child watched over by the grandmother – for marriage, essentially – and for the monks – and, of course, for Resurrection. Because Resurrection (or, more precisely, what follows thereafter) is a dialogical eternal life – a life with the Other (and with the others).

But let us conclude, here, this Easter Octave-occasioned, modest attempt at an investigation into the state of joy - into its manifestations, forms and expressions – and, finally, into its nature. We have listed all of our conclusions - or, the gist of them – above.

What remains to be talked about, perhaps – in a very brief postlude – is laughter. Yes, back to “laughter” – but, as explained, a specific kind or state of laughter. Yes, laughter, because I find it a most handy, accessible, universally available experience – or, at least, sign - of that state of joy that is the expression of true being. Again, we are referring here to a specific kind of laughter – which is the simple, free (childlike), and exuberant expression of the joy of existence itself - but also (implicitly) of the dignity and transcendence of the self, over and against the (sometimes) oppressive, burdensome, reductionist aspects of historical and material existence. A laughter that is the thumbing of one’s nose at the self-seriousness of what are – ultimately – "unserious", passing things. (And, for a manifestation of such laughter, see again the scene with the Carthusian monks sliding down the snowy hillside, in the Alps, not far from La Grande Chartreuse.)

And you can even take this – this idea of laughter - with you as a bookmark, perhaps - to remind you (and us), from time to time, of that state of joy that we have been discussing - that is associated (or so it seems) with the living out of our being, in its plenitude, truth, and openness toward the other (the Other).

The Category of Joy (2)

Let us continue our Easter Octave investigation on the category of joy.

2. Joy as Laughter

This dimension requires some work and clarification, as it is quite easy to confuse things, with regard to this term. For example, there is that shallow, self-centered “live, laugh, love” (appalling and unappealing); there is the somewhat “mechanical” understanding of "laughter" as “joking”, or as “telling jokes”; and there is a kind of meaningless, empty laughter, behind which one finds no self, but only superficiality; and there is also the very broad category of humor, much too broad to be used, in its entirety and indiscriminately, in association with this concept of “laughter” - and so on, and so on.

So, what do I mean, then, by laughter, as an expression of that state of joy? To exemplify what I mean, I have appended below a compilation video with scenes from (French comedian) Louis de Funès’ films about “the gendarme of St Tropez”. (This is, of course, only an example, not familiar to everyone – but one can find examples that are more suited to one’s particular experience.) However, the reason why I am using the work of Louis de Funès, and specifically this series of films, is because for me they embody some of the essence of that joyous laughter that I am trying to describe. Namely, that kind of liberating, childlike (not childish), freeing laughter, which raises one’s self out of - and above - the weight of sublunar existence.

Levity – yet not understood as “frivolity”, but in a sense closer to its etymological and historical meanings: as “lightness”, as that force that opposes gravity (as the term was used in pre-modern science) – an expression of freedom from petty, burdensome temporality. This is not, therefore, Kundera’s “unbearable lightness of being” (which actually represents a diminution in being); instead, it is an affirmation of being, of the dignity and transcendence of the human self, over and against the shackles of the sublunar, of the historical, of the material, even.

This is the laughter of children at play (seen quite unsentimentally), and also of grown-ups at play (for example, at a pick-up soccer game, in the afternoon). It is good-natured, good-humored, and well-disposed (with amiable feelings) toward the others – while, at the same time, not taking oneself, nor the others, nor life (in its intra-historical meaning) too seriously. It is thus revivifying and refreshing of the self.

Overall, it is an expression of the love of existence, of the joy of existence – and therefore a manifestation of joy, where joy is a state that expresses the plenitude of being.

***

At the end of the week, we will synthesize what we have learned from all these individual posts (on the various aspects or dimensions of joy), into one summary conclusion (of sorts) of our "investigation" into the category of joy.

Happy Mondays: The Greatest Hits (5)

Continuing our discussion about the discography of the British indie band, Happy Mondays, we are now at the point where we need to cover their collaboration with Bob Mortimer - whom you might already know from his collaboration with Chris Rea on the Let's Dance single, which they made together in support and in celebration of Middlesbrough FC's participation in the FA Cup final. in 1997 (both of them being from Middlesbrough, originally).

***

Much of what I just just said - or some of it - is, of course, untrue. But what is true? Well, Bob Mortimer is true and is real - as hard as that might be to fathom, at times. But what is true about him, specifically? Well, therein lies the question, doesn't it; the question that has preoccupied - nay, that has torn - the participants on the Would I Lie to You panel show, on the episodes featuring Bob. (I have described the premise of WILTY, and the genre of British panel shows, here; to synthesize, WILTY's essence is that, given two teams of comedians / entertainers / public figures, somebody from one team will read, from a card that they have never seen before, a story about something that presumably has happened to them; then, the members of the other team will need to figure out whether that story is true, or whether it was a lie; hence, "would I lie to you?". It sounds simple, but it gets hilarious.)

But what is it, that would set Bob Mortimer apart amid the constellation of entertaining, witty, and amusing guests who have populated the previous seasons of the show? Well, I think that it is what I would call the Whimsical and Wondrous World of Bob Mortimer's Life and Times. Let's start from the fact that Bob is a natural-born comedian and entertainer - the "funny bone" is actually his very marrow, and humor seems to alive at the core of his very being. There is also a childlike quality to him, and to his humor; a sense of wonder and amazement, and a pure eagerness to find the funny in everything - in words, situations, people etc. (see the rainbow variety of his quips on WILTY - links below). Finally, he seems to have had - and to continue to live - a quite wondrous and elfin life, populated with peculiar but homely characters, and with somewhat unexpected paths and choices. (Although you will have to figure out which of his stories are actually true...). And there is also a very down to earth, specifically British quality to his life-stories - which are people and place specific, and are rooted in a regular (albeit ever-so-slightly slightly fantastic, like, say, a hobbit) British bloke existence.

Enjoy, then, the samples below - as another installment within our Happy Mondays series, which (as the title maybe, probably, surely implies) is meant to make our Mondays  - just a bit cheerier.


the legendary episode featuring Jerry Dungarees and Gary "Cheesy" Cheeseman




wherein we discover that Bob is the fourth-born of four male siblings - which has certain implications
[note: in this exercise, a person is brought in, and the members of one of the teams need to convince the other team that this unknown person is related to them, that it is part of their story)




this one actually features Chris Rea




seriously, though?



And you can enjoy more Bob-based delight here and here - collections that also includes other famous Bob stories, but also a variety of Mortimerian quips and contributions. And, of course, stay tuned for future editions (seasons) of WILTY (because if those will not feature Bob Mortimer as a guest on some of the episodes, then they will have just lost their wits).

Happy Mondays: The Greatest Hits (4)

Toward the end of the eighties, the well-known British indie band, Happy Mondays, also added a keyboardist / multi-instrumentalist to their line-up, in the person of Bill Bailey. This, however, was not a very successful and long-lasting collaboration - mostly because it never happened.

***

Bill Bailey did, however, happen  (and is still happening); and his keyboard/ guitar/ theremin/ glockenspiel ("Er spielt mit glocken!") skills are very real, as well. The reason why he merits the inclusion in this series of posts is twofold: his narrative comedic style, and his ability to find and to create humor in and through music.

On the first aspect, I would say that in Bailey's case we encounter a combination of attributes not unlike the one that we enjoyed in Dylan Moran's case - wit and intelligence, a fairly well-read and informed mind, and an artistic imagination that is able to roam freely, making connections on the fly, with a special propensity for the surreal and the paradoxical. It is especially this dimension of creativity - not being afraid to go wherever imagination and the feel for the comedic may take you - that sets his narrative comedy apart, and makes it interesting and (let's say) literate. Because, just like in Moran's case, what Bailey is doing is in fact "writing" - but, on the spot, with and for an audience, and through the means of orality. Stand-up comedians are, in fact, writers (most of them) - whether they pick up a pen or a laptop, or not.

The second aspect refers to the way in which Bill Bailey incorporates music as a comedic field, medium and instrument. This means finding the humorous (paradoxical, surprising, incongruous) within music itself, and also being able to express oneself comedically through music. But no, this does not mean some half-baked, three-cord "funny songs;" that would be appalling (unless, of course, it is intentionally stupid). Bill Bailey's musical knowledge and skills are in fact of quite a high level and wide ranging - style-wise, from classical to dub-step; and instrument-wise, from the keyboard to the (aforementioned) theremin (see his special, the Remarkable Guide to the Orchestra, which follows in the very noble and British tradition of Benjamin Britten's The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra) - which is why his "musical comedy" is also intelligent and interesting.

Now, "Bill Bailey" (which, of course, is not his real name, but a stage name inspired by that famous song) at times also brings other parts of his persona to his comedic work - the persona of the aged hippie, of the nature- and animal-lover (perhaps a bit too much so), of a spiritually interested (with the usual Eastern leanings) but now probably agnostic (or a-religious) bloke - all in all, with all the good and the bad (blind spots, prejudices, some cultural clichés) of his time (born in 1965) and of his place (Brit mainstream culture). But this is where a mature consumer of art should be able to make certain differentiations - between a person's high level artistry (in one domain), and the same person's less than impressive show-up in other domains.

As a side note, it is a peculiar - if understandable - weakness to look at famous people (who are famous because of a particular skill, or simply because of the mechanisms of the market) and to try to see them as life models (fame does not translate to wisdom, and more often than not their private lives are miserable).

So I selected Bill Bailey for this series of posts on excellent comedy - because of his superior, intelligent, and creative comedic artistry. And, since nowadays we have all those commands at our disposal - of Play, Rewind, Fast Forward, Pause, Skip - let us press "Play" for the following bits of baileian comedy:














Speaking of Bill Bailey and Dylan Moran, the two of them (whom I consider to be the two top British - and not only - stand-ups of the 2000s) also worked together in a wonderfully creative, bleak, funny, and smart sitcom (written by Moran & co.), Black Books - which featured the bohemian trio of a misanthropic Irish bookstore owner (Moran), his half-gnomic hippie aid (Bailey), and their perpetually lost and searching, caring yet acerbic woman friend (Tamsin Greig).

Happy Mondays: The Greatest Hits (3)

Very few people know about the “French period” of the UK band Happy Mondays, which was the avantgarde phase of their work. Indeed, very few people know about it, because there is no such thing.

The absurdist stylings of Rémi Gaillard

One of the things that I admire about Rémi Gaillard is the courage with which he takes his craft “to the brink.” I am referring to the courage with which he takes what lies at the heart of the comical (namely, the paradox or the clash between what seems to be and what actually is) to its utmost. This is why the absurd is comical (e.g. the absurd theatre of Eugène Ionesco) - because it exposes and it narrates this paradox, or at least one of its dimensions.

I also like how committed, faithful and earnest Rémi Gaillard is in following the central idea of the gag. “What if?”, he asks - and then he does it, with hilarious results. There is an anarchic and riotous quality to his act, that is also very engaging.

But does not the act veer sometime almost into cruelty? Perhaps, and those are not his best moments.

But when it works, when all the right elements line up, the paradox made visible creates laughter. When it all works, then what he does becomes an artistic act – artistic by virtue of this inner consistency with the idea.

Happy Mondays: The Greatest Hits (2)

Continuing thus with our overview of the greatest hits of the famous 80s-and-early-90s band, Happy Mondays (not),

here is Dylan Moran, who for me is the foremost “stand-up comedian” of today. “Stand-up” sounds cheap, and it often is; but Moran (who is Irish) stands out, because he accomplishes this role in a way that is very close to what humor – and humorists - should, in fact, be.

On the one hand, the humorist (or the jester) is the observer that points out that the world is, actually, topsy-turvy. For that, however, he (or she) needs to have the acuity and the courage of perceiving the truth, and of pointing out that what we take for everydayness, for the generally acquiesced normalcy (the king and his clothes) is actually in an absurd and paradoxical conflict with the truth of existence (the king has no clothes). It is this conflict between the reality that we all perceive, of which we are all aware, deep down – and the quotidian compromise and going-along, or downright lie, of the generally accepted, that creates the absurd or the paradox that gives rise to laughter. This ability to see underneath, to look at the deeper layer, is what sets a true humorist apart.

Oh, but how few comedians or humorists are able to do this, and to be this! It takes a certain acuity and existential honesty that, well, not everyone has, or dares to possess.

On the other hand, Moran is also a wordsmith, a literate person, and a literary mind - a writer, in other words. His words, stories, his construction of the “jokes” can be savored as a text that is rich, multifaceted, inventive, witty; this is smart and intellectually enjoyable writing. This is why the term humorist fits him as much as that of (stand-up) comedian; only that he tells these mini-texts in front of an audience.

Here are therefore three excerpts: two from a stand-up routine (or album – Monster), and the other an ultra-short film on (how appropriately) a bitter moment from the life of a writer (regarding the latter, see also Moran's brilliant TV series, Black Books).

Happy Mondays: The Greatest Hits (1)

Of course, the Happy Mondays is the prominent UK indie band of the 80s, early 90s; you might know them from hits such as Step On:

But this post is not about this band - nor will the subsequent posts be about them. Instead, Monday is probably the most appropriate day to share some great hits of comedy, or humor, or satire (these terms not being synonymous) - because, why not? If not now, then when? If not us, then who? If not here, then whence?

***
So, for today, here is a bit from a British panel show. British panel shows, as a genre, are a special beast, and a very Brit-specific one, as well. Whatever the theme, or the gimmick - commenting on the week's news, pop music, or being a simulacrum of a quiz show - they are in fact platforms for comedians, music, film, or TV stars, political figures, and other public persona, to appear in front of the public, on a constant basis, and within a - usually humorous - context. As such, they are an excellent bread-giver to the rich British stand-up scene, whose members would scarcely be able to have such constant national (and international) exposure .

One of the best such panel shows is Would I Lie To You, which is helped both by a strong permanent cast (moderator and "team captains" - Rob Brydon, David Mitchell, and Lee Mack), and by (usually) inspired selections of "team members". Over the years, some of these guests received "legendary" status, whether through specific interventions, or through a consistent high quality participation in the show - which simply means that their contributions are consistently hilarious, refreshing, and surprising (which is important, given the theme of the show).

The gimmick of the show is that there are two teams, and the members of the teams take turns to read out a story about themselves (something that happened to them), while the other team, through questioning, need to figure out whether they are telling a lie, or telling the truth. Of course, the stories (whether true or false) are designed to be outrageous, scarcely credible, or of a dubious nature.

This is one of those legendary interventions, featuring Scottish comedian Kevin Bridges - and is also probably one of the funniest things I've ever seen on TV. Enjoy! and Happy Mondays (the band)!