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Funny Girl

Fanny Brice

Fanny Brice

‘You’re a funny girl.’ Has that phrase ever been uttered (by a man) without subtext or semi-colon? “And I hate funny girls” or “And you look it too.” Perhaps there are times it is delivered as a compliment, but rarely is it heard as one. It’s probable that Nicky Arnstein (played by Omar Sharif) said it with love and adoration, but it’s an odds on favorite that Fanny (Barbra Streisand) heard it as; “not pretty.” It is not entirely Fanny/Barbra’s insecurities that lead to this interpretation. Women have been derided and ridiculed for being funny since the dawn of time. There’s a chance that Eve ran from the Garden of Eden in shame after Adam ridiculed her for her “one bad apple” joke.

Humor or (gasp) joke telling is masculine. No really, ask any comic trying to get top billing. At the core of being funny is the ability to make people laugh (stay with me on this, it gets less ‘duh’) and ‘making’ people do anything is a measure of powerfulness. Well women aren’t supposed to have power. In fact what women were told for decades (if not centuries) was to look good and listen. If they were to speak at all it was in niceties and affirmations. Early comediennes understood this land mine and went to lengths to mitigate their ‘offensiveness.’ They down played their physicality to create a gender neutral or cartoonish woman. This worked as an immediate physical cue to the audience; “It’s okay, we can pretend I’m not a woman.” Fanny Brice and Phyllis Diller made themselves into physical characters (as did many others.) Ms. Brice had a lovely moving singing voice but is best remembered for playing Baby Snooks. What could be less threatening than a baby? Phyllis Diller was a slim, sleek stylish woman who festooned herself in clown-like garb and used self-deprecating humor.

Things began to change in the late 1960s. Joan Rivers engaged in similar self-deprecating humor, but did so in a little black dress and pearls. There were no fright wigs or juvenile characters, just a fearless gal from Larchmont with a wickedly quick wit. Carol Burnett came along shortly thereafter and blew the roof off. Her show (1967-1978) opened the doors and national minds to the fact that a woman can be outrageously funny, smart and striking. Yes, she played cartoonishly grotesque looking characters, but she also played bombshells. Every show started with Ms. Burnett standing center stage in a striking (Bob Mackie) gown. When she sang (and she did/does so beautifully) it was often in character but not a caricature. Several came after her, these funny women who didn’t apologize for being women. Tracey Ullman embraced a similar format of characters as Ms. Burnett as well as singing and having a striking physical presence.

These examples of progress are not to suggest that we’ve come a long way baby. Comic actresses (versus comediennes) still manipulate her physical image to placate the audience. Think of the ‘funny’ gal on any sitcom and you will find that her look or shtick about her look is at the business of her character. Most often it takes the form of an eating disorder. Binge eating, eating off-brand Mexican snack chips, clearing a buffet; all while staying a size four can be seen on any channel near you. The scripts poke fun at bosom size (’cause that’s funny) or weight struggles or tragic fashion sense. Granted there are male comedians and comic actors whose bread & butter is their sad sack image. But there’s a sense that it’s done with a wink especially when their characters seem to engage with lovely looking women.

There is an ancient and depressing mathematical formula (that surely can be found on a cave wall somewhere): attractive=dumb=desirable and funny=smart=intimidating. Anyone on this earth for any length of time past the parallel-play period can attest to the unmitigated fallacy of this formula. We’ve all met plain dumb women, attractive smart women, we’ve met women who were funny and not so clever (which can be really funny!) and chances are we’ve never been intimidated by humor. But it doesn’t change the fact that rarely does a woman hear “you’re a funny girl” and automatically get a spring in her step. We are simply not conditioned to hear it as a compliment. There are no magazine articles promising us 10 simple ways to crack your guy up. There is no potion, pill or powder being pitched to power our punch lines. It’s okay to be smart (and that’s serious progress) but funny, able to evoke stomach cramps and copious tears, while looking like oneself? We’ve got a ways to go. They are out there, these outrageously funny comediennes embracing their femaleness, don’t get me wrong. But they are in no way celebrated by the masses (and by masses I mean heterosexual men) the way male comedians are. There is still, after all these years, something intimidating about a woman who is not a cartoon, and who can make you wet your pants a little.

I’m so glad we had this time together.

 
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Posted by on April 27, 2013 in Cultural Critique

 

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The Time Of Their Lives

There was a time when the Catskills were the summer destination of thousands of New Yorkers. The bungalows and hotels of the area were known collectively as The Borscht Belt, as the clientele was predominantly Jewish.  Some families came for the entire season (the father coming up for the weekend) others for a week or two.  The heyday was in the 1940s and 1950s, and started to ebb in the 1960s.  Tastes change, the world changed.  Today, middle and working class families rarely vacation together for an entire season.  Private space is far more coveted than communal living and/or dining.  The grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the Catskills take their families to the Hamptons, The Rockaways or down the shore.

A few of the Catskill’s famed physical structures still remain and have been converted for modern use, with varying degrees of success.  But looking at them, it is not possible to even begin to imagine what that world was like.  At least two movies (A Walk on the Moon and Dirty Dancing) capture the mood and social dynamics of both the bungalow world (A Walk on the Moon) and the resort (Dirty Dancing) world of the Catskills.  There were two hallmarks of the Catskill experience; the food and the entertainment.  Comedians, singers, musicians and dancers made a steady and hefty chunk of change by “playing the circuit” every summer.  Few remember these icons of their time.  Perhaps the exceptions would be Woody Allen and Joan Rivers.  Almost everyone who had a hand in creating television (and by “creating” I mean ‘inventing the very concept of programming”) played the Belt; Milton Berle, Carl Reiner, Burns and Allen, Sid Caesar, Molly Berg.  Theatre people played the Catskills too; Betty Garrett, Camden and Green, Molly Picon, Fanny Brice.  All the big names played the Catskills; it was close to the city and it wasn’t a bad way to make some real money.

The entertaining in the Catskills went beyond the stage however.  A tummeler (pronounced: toom-e-ler) was the court jester of their day.  Tummelers were jovial, extroverted fellows whose primary job was to get the party started.  They cajoled people into gaiety, usually while wearing something quirky.  The recent death of Lou Goldstein, a tummeler’s tummeler if there ever was one, may be the last bit of spark to sputter from the Borscht Belt ash.  (You may remember seeing Lou on daytime talk shows in the 1970s.  He was famous for his Simon Says.)

The Catskills (as they once were) are gone and they’re not coming back, but tummelers are still doing quite well.  Have you been to a Bar or Bat Mitzvah in the past 25 years?  You can’t swing a rubber chicken without hitting some festooned guy or gal encouraging middle-aged guests to drop it like it’s hot.  (Twenty-five years ago, Aunt Shirley was being told she was too sexy for her shirt.)  The good news for tummelers is that the gigs are now all year long and women may apply.

It is interesting that the tummeler is the only thing to emerge from the rubble of the Borscht Belt.  Seasonal communities don’t exist in the same manner.  They do exist in an ad hoc manner, but not as a large collective and certainly not with the same degree of familiarity.  Actors, musicians, comedians and the like, have nowhere to earn a stable income while perhaps trying out new material and cultivating new audiences.  Performers were able to work (and play) with their friends and sometimes make enough money to make it through a lean year.  Yes, today some do work cruise lines and casinos, but those are finely choreographed shows and are usually reserved for the boldest faced names on the B list.

There are new ways for entertainers to breakout and find new audiences, online and off.  The proliferation of televised contests assures that a new finely coached belter/wailer will be discovered every week.  Comedians have their pick of new media as well as consistent traditional outlets (someone will always have to prep live audiences to laugh at tepid television shows.)  But what may never be replicated is a place for performers of different genres to perform in the same place at the same time.  Like the Catskill guest experience, it’s the collective that will be missed.

 
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Posted by on April 16, 2012 in Cultural Critique, Travel

 

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