Henri Bergson’s initial rule about comedy, that it “doesn’t exist outside the pale of what is strictly human,” spoke to me (Bergson, 3). The idea that comedy is exclusively a human concept and, as Bergson explains, cannot be applied to inanimate objects or animals unless we are able to see human characteristics within them, was a perspective I had never considered before, and I think it is very true. One of the most compelling aspects of what makes something comical is that we able to find ways to relate to the thing that is being laughed at. Regardless of the thing that is actually funny, we are able to find some aspect that makes it applicable to our own lives, which, in turn, makes it funny. A few pages later, Bergson suggests that for something to be funny, the comic must demand something like “a momentary anesthesia of the heart,” and that comedy is an appeal to intelligence alone (Bergson, 5). If I’m understanding him correctly, I’d have to disagree. One of the most important parts about comedy is its heartwarming aspect, if the viewing is sympathetic to the comic and finds them relatable. Comedy is not inherently funny without your lived experiences to help you understand what the message is.
Take, for example, Gus Constantillis. The key here is that his targeted audience of first-generation Greek Americans, a category my father happens to fit into, is very niche, but his reflections on the lived experience through his imitations of his Greek mother hit home for many. There are also layers to this — even if you’re not specifically a first-generation Greek American, the first-generation experience can be universal regardless of heritage. There’s also the universal sentiment of family dynamics and making fun of your parents that can appeal to wider audiences. But it’s fundamentally the sympathy you get from related experiences that makes something, so niche as Constantillis’ imitations, funny.
Henri Bergson, “Chapter 1,” Laughter, trans. Brereton & Rothwell (London: MacMillan, 1911), 1-66.
Constantellis, Gus. “Growing Up With a Greek Mom” YouTube, uploaded by ConstantlyGus, 30 Apr 2020,
I think you make an excellent point and completely agree with the need for common understanding for some jokes to be funny. This is increasingly seen with stand-up comedians, who, like Constantillis, use their background and experiences to make comedy and rely on relatability to allow for their success. However, I believe that Bergson is correct when considering other forms of comedy, such as slapstick or prank forms of comedy, where sympathy would make the audience see it as harsh or rude rather than funny. An example that comes to mind is Takashi’s Castle or the several Jackass films, where the laughter comes from the actors falling and getting hurt.
I find the idea that relatability and identification with the characters are key for humour interesting – when I was reading this passage, I also thought that emotion is central to comedy but had a slightly different thought process. Subsequently, I would like to add that anger can fuel comedy as well as sympathy. This is seen with imitations of prominent political figures, like those in SNL and even in British pantomimes: frustration with such figures in real life is what makes the mockery of them so satisfying and humorous.
I think you make a brilliant point about relatability being a key component of comedy. This got me thinking about if there are any exceptions to this rule and I believe I may have found one in online animal videos. Here, I don’t believe the comedy always comes from people relating to the animals (although there are definitely some instances of the comedy in these videos coming from the animals looking like humans, as seen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ug_ZUfvltxU). Far more often, I believe the comedy for a lot of animal videos comes from the animals falling, something which I don’t believe is an exclusively human trait.
I think make a really good point about Bergson’a “anesthesia of the heart” argument when it comes to stand-up comedy. Comedians craft their sets in order to relate to audiences so even if their anecdote is specific to them, the feelings and emotions are more universal. They create a space where laughter can thrive in a group setting.
One things to consider, however, is that you and Bergson are discussing to different forms of comedy. You say that we have to relate to the comic. I agree with you but not as an absolute. When it comes to physical gags, most often, our emotions are turned off. If they weren’t we would not find it funny when a person trips and falls in their haste to get somewhere (Bergson, 8-9). We wouldn’t laugh when he falls if he was in front of us because our emotions are on when we go about our everyday lives. But in the realm of film, our heart to switch off briefly or turn to a comedy logic that allows u to believe that no one is hurt by a physical gag, which I find particularly interesting.
I also disagree with Bergson’s suggestion that laughter necessitates a ‘momentary anaesthesia of the heart’. I think that even if you can’t sympathise through related experiences, comedy can still be very gut-wrenching. I recently watched Four Lions and found myself laughing because of its subversion of expectations and on the verge of tears.