Excerpt from Cat
Got Your
Treadmill?
Diegesis
Saves
GENE
AUTRY MEETS FRASIER CRANE
By all accounts, the late movie cowboy Gene Autry was a fine fellow
and a savvy businessman, having owned a record label, a production
company, and a baseball team. He was as widely known for his westerns
as he was for making a hit song out of "Rudolph, the Red-nosed
Reindeer." He made a ton of "B" westerns in the 40s,
and had a TV show in the 50s, all aimed at the kid audience.
Those kids probably didn’t care that Gene wasn’t the
greatest actor, and that he seemed to have only two facial expressions,
concerned and smiling. He never knew what to do with his hands,
so when he wasn’t playing the guitar or punching a bad guy,
he hooked his thumbs over his gunbelt. Gene’s acting chops
matched his voice, which was less than resonant, kind of nasal and
twangy. He could carry a tune as long as it wasn’t very heavy.
Sometimes Gene played his guitar as he sang for an audience visible
in the movie, and that made sense in both the real and reel worlds.
But sometimes we’d see Gene and his sidekick, Smiley Burnett,
riding their horses along some desolate trail west of nowhere, just
the two of them, when Gene would abruptly burst into song. Not only
did Smiley see nothing odd about this behavior, he didn’t
even react to the full (and fully invisible) orchestral accompaniment
that Gene seemed to carry around with him. In fact, Smiley even
sang along.
Then after the song was over, the two good guys would run into some
baddies. A rousing chase and fist fight would follow, with exciting
music accompanying the action.
Obviously, both the audience in the story and the audience watching
the movie could hear Gene’s guitar when he was playing and
singing for them. That’s diegetic or "source" music,
an actual part of the story. And just as obviously, Gene and Smiley
could not hear the music when they were chasing and fighting the
bad guys. That was non-diegetic music; it was there as dramatic
effect for the benefit of the audience. The music Gene sang to while
riding along the trail falls into a kind of music limbo.
According to Pauline Reay’s book, Music in Film: Soundtracks
and Synergy, diegesis is the story world depicted on the screen.
We the audience could hear all of the music, but the characters
could hear only some of it. I believe the same is true with humor.
Fast-forward fifty years. Frasier, starring Kelsey Grammer,
was a popular spin-off of Cheers. Aside from being a well-written
show, it was superbly cast, with each actor making us believe in
his or her character. One of those splendidly fleshed out characters
was Frasier’s über-fussy brother, Niles, played by David
Hyde Pierce.
Niles was quite the intellectual, like his brother. One day he walked
into the studio of Frasier’s radio program to show him a rare
book he’s just bought. Niles says, "I wanted to show
you my copy of Saint Katy, the Virgin, in like-new condition."
Frasier replies with a knowing grin, "Yes, well, she’d
have to be, wouldn’t she?" Niles smiles, and the audience
laughs.
Later in that scene, they learn that their favorite restaurant is
closing forever. Niles gets nostalgic for his eighth birthday party,
which had been held at the restaurant, and where he was just as
fussy. Niles says wistfully, "Great times. Opening presents,
wearing funny hats, sending back the veal Prince Orloff." Frasier
doesn’t smile, but the audience laughs.
Each of those jokes is in a different form. The first one about
Saint Katy is diegetic, that is, it takes place in their world and
is acknowledged by the characters as being a joke. Niles smiles
at Frasier’s remark about the book, just as someone would
do in the real world. But the other funny line would not be considered
source humor. Niles’ line about sending back the veal was
non-diegetic. Frasier did not see it as a joke, only an example
of Niles’ personality.
(Frasier was one of the few shows I’ve seen where
the people in the story laugh at the funny things others in the
story say. Compare it to The Bob Newhart Show, the sitcom
where he plays a psychologist. Hilarious as that show was, nobody
in the stories laughs.)
The second joke was character-driven; the first was not. That’s
the difference. We the audience could hear all the humor, but the
characters could not. Just like the music in Gene Autry’s
movies.
Decide what kind of humor you’re using in your stories, both
in print and on stage. Is it a joke that other people in the story
recognize as such? Or is it character driven humor that blends seamlessly
with the world of the story?
If you’re on stage and you tell your audience something self-deprecating
and funny about yourself, it should come off as non-diegetic. You
should not act as though it’s funny to you; allow the audience
to get it on their own. But if you tell them an actual joke - which
I don’t recommend unless you’re a trained professional
and wearing a helmet - allow the audience to know that you know
it’s a joke. Don’t laugh at it, just acknowledge the
humor.
And don’t hook your thumbs over your gunbelt.
© 2011
by Jay Speyerer
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