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Laughing Matters

Why Comedy Is Important, Even in Tragedy

I recently found myself leaving the theatre after experiencing an incredibly moving production of Hamlet, put on by Shakespeare’s Globe. Quite frankly, my head was more or less spinning, from both the overall production value and the fact that I had just seen a Globe performance without having to trudge across the pond; the admittedly sexy Hamlet didn’t hurt, either. Among the bevy of your average weeknight theatregoers—the wealthy and overdressed, with the occasional wide-eyed millennial thrown in—one comment kept making its way to the surface in the cacophony: “But why was I laughing during Hamlet?”

It’s true. There was a lot of laughter. The Globe took a number of comedic opportunities in this particular work. I noticed that I at least smiled, if not had a full-on fit of laughter whenever Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were on stage, not to mention the fact that the shamelessly British company took some liberties with the line about “country matters” (perhaps funnier if spoken aloud). These moments were unexpected and off-putting—and simply delightful. At a few points, I asked myself the same question as my fellow audience members, totally unused to the idea of laughing at any facet of a Shakespearean tragedy. Why was I laughing during Hamlet?

Because Hamlet was probably laughing during Hamlet. So was Polonius. And Horatio. And even Ophelia, from her watery grave. They were probably laughing because that’s what people do, even in the face of weighty tragedy. People laugh to alleviate the pain, or in a direct response to pain, and sometimes we even cry so much that we end up laughing at how ridiculous it all is. So why would a theatrical tragedy come with any exception?

It shouldn’t, and yet this is the problem with quite a bit of staged tragedy. I see it with Shakespeare, Chekhov, and with O’Neill. The cynic in me usually ends up thinking, “Yes, I get it, but these people are just so sad all the time. It’s annoying and because I’m annoyed, I don’t feel sorry for anyone.” From an acting standpoint, I blame this feeling on the characters being one-dimensional or not having enough levels. But from an audience standpoint, I’ve noticed that I am infinitely more available to undergoing impassioned fluctuations with a character once I have laughed at them, with them, or seen them laugh at one another or themselves.

Laughter is one of the most intimate experiences one person can have with another; it is a shared experience that elicits a physical and oftentimes euphoric response. I have always felt that I am closer with a person once I have had a laugh with them. This can be anything from a small accident laughed off with a stranger, to a full-throttle, debilitating outburst shared with a close friend. In either case, there is a sometimes strong and often unexpected experience between all parties involved that can exclude the outside world and build an emotional connection between those partaking in the laugh. Such has always been my experience and observation, and has made me more emotionally invested to those that I have laughed with.

It is for this reason that I am more likely to cry with someone once I have already laughed with them. After developing a bond based on happiness, any interjection of sadness becomes more severe and impactful. This is a phenomenon that I see in my real life that transfers to the stage. When I have spent the majority of act one laughing with or at a character and becoming permeated with the more comical facets of their life, I am all the more susceptible to tears and emotional outpouring when everything falls apart for them in act two. The higher they climb, the harder they fall.

So why shouldn’t we want to laugh during Hamlet? Or Uncle Vanya? Or Death of a Salesman? For one thing, laughter is a wholly natural and commonplace occurrence that happens to people of all walks of life and in all situations. For another, the bond formed by laughter can be incredibly powerful, which makes for more mental and emotional investment. Seeing the more lighthearted and delightfully human aspects of people leads to a more empathetic response when their worlds fall apart, as they inevitably do in tragedy.

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Nicely done! Saw the same production - and laughed - and agree. Maybe this hits on the reason I love reading Hamlet, but usually end up disappointed in the productions. Shakespeare had a deep and irreverent sense of humor - I think he wanted this translated to the stage.