Berland and Ngai’s idea that “Comedy helps us test or figure out what it means to say “us.”” indicates how comedy helps strengthen our personal and shared sense of identity when we relate to jokes which pertain to a particular group of people, in either local or national contexts.[1] However, this also makes me think about the importance of who is involved in the joke. A joke which has the power to strengthen bonds and forge communities, as Critchley also notes when claiming that “having a common sense of humour is like sharing a secret code”, can easily become hostile and insulting when told by someone outside the group to which it pertains.[2] Even more uncertain than this is who has ‘permission’ to laugh at the joke. As laughter is an act of complicity, the implications of someone outside a particular group laughing at a self-deprecating joke from someone within the group could also be offensive. These questions are pertinent nowadays with the proliferation of cancel culture and the increased care taken with jokes.
Derry Girls (Channel 4, United Kingdom, 2018-2022) exemplifies such ideas. As a comedy show which focuses on teenagers but has a politically charged backdrop, many of the jokes would be considered unacceptable had the actors and the writers not been Irish themselves, especially due to the irreverence towards Irish culture and traditions. The caricature figures of the nun and the priest and the poking fun of the church, seen in the first clip, is a delicate issue and has the potential to be problematic depending on who is telling the joke. Indeed, the fact that this show was broadcast on Channel 4 in the UK is interesting, as many English people will be laughing at these depictions though it would be an issue for them to make these jokes themselves because of the political backdrop. However, this is perhaps more acceptable in this show considering the frequent mockery of the English, as seen towards the beginning of the second YouTube clip: the show makes it very clear where it stands and which community it intends to strengthen. This perhaps creates space for English people to laugh, as they have to accept the mockery directed at them in order to be able to laugh at the rest of the show.
[1] Lauren Berlant and Sianne Ngai, ‘Comedy Has Issues’ Critical Inquiry, 43 (2017): 235.
[2] Simon Critchley, ‘Foreigners are Funny – the Ethicity and Ethnicity of Humour’ in On Humour (London; New York: Routledge, 2002), 68.
I appreciate your point about how this would be played on Channel 4 to an audience of British people who couldn’t make the same joke without it being offensive, and it made me think about the previous conversation about “permission to laugh,” which to be fair had its own context but there’s also an aspect of ethnic comedy that gives you this permission as part of the community of the audience.
Derry Girls fits well with Critchley’s statement that the “ethos of a place is expressed by laughing at people who are not like us.” In separating us vs them, be it the English and Irish, or protestant and catholic, Derry Girls propagates a certain image of Irishness.
I think it would also be very interesting to study how Derry Girls being a comedy allows the show to explore these taught political tensions in a manner that does not exacerbate these tensions. I think the masterful way the show handles this can be seen through how it manages to be amusing for both English and Irish audiences; it looks at both sides of the tension through a comedic lens, making fun of each side.