Tragedy in Comedy

Like most people of my generation, I’m typically in the middle of watching a television series on Netflix (or some other streaming service). These shows are usually dramas of some kind; I just recently got finished watching The Tudors, for example, and before that, Luther. Fantastic show. I personally prefer it to Sherlock, if you think it fit to compare the two. Perhaps I’ll write a blog post about it sometime, but it’s mostly due to plot coherence and maturity of tone (the second point being personal preference and the first being a measured criticism). But I digress.

Sometimes, when I’m in-between shows on Netflix and all feels wrong in the world, I jump over to a comedy. Most notably, I’ve rewatched all of Scrubs which is without a doubt the best comedy show of all time (more on that later). I watched a good five seasons of Community which I also thoroughly enjoyed, and right now I’m currently powering through another popular comedy series.

A quick side note, one comedy I’ve never been very invested in is Friends. I don’t know if maybe I was just barely out of their target audience or what, but I find the show highly overrated. It’s funny enough, and I’ll watch it if someone else has it on, but there was this whole culture built up around the show’s characters in which people tried to mimic them and apply their logic to real life, and it always sort of… irked me. And I’m not sure I like laughter tracks. Why should I need to be told when to laugh?

Well, anyway, what I wish to discuss is the balance of how much tragedy to put in a comedy. I believe Scrubs had the perfect balance, with your typical conflicts between friendships arising and being dealt with in a humorous or heartwarming manner, but also the larger themes of death, love, personal growth, and the stress of working as a doctor. I could watch the chronicles of John Dorian many times over (barring the season we do not speak of) and still find life lessons and reassurance. Also, seeing as this blog post is the king of unrelated side-notes, isn’t it cool how ‘John Dorian’ is so similar to ‘John Doe’?

Community was excellent as well, especially Abed. I haven’t actually seen the last season yet (it’s not on Netflix, boo) but I’ve seen the majority and whilst Community is overall more lighthearted than Scrubs, it still has its poignant moments. Most notably, for me, was Abed’s character.

The problem with comedy is that without some elements of tragedy, or continuity of plot, you leave the audience with no lingering interest. It’s why, I think, so many comedies opt to have a potential couple whom they propose to the audience through a series of will-they-won’-they events, usually only allowing this plot-line to have a conclusion when they’ve sufficiently built up lasting interest in other elements of the series. And to have plot you need conflict, and to have conflict you need some sort of tragic event. This is why death happens in comedy, even though it isn’t funny. It allows characters to develop, making you more invested in their character and increasing the vibrancy of the comedy.

Perhaps there’s something to be taken away from that.

Stephen Moffat is Leaving Doctor Who

(This is not the weekly blog post, as it discusses a subject which many readers may not be invested in.)

Mild Doctor Who spoilers ahead; knowledge of up to season nine is recommended, though no key plot points are spoiled, merely referenced. Season 8’s “Kill the Moon” and “In the Forest of the Night” have their finales discussed briefly.

So this news is a little old now, but it’s taken a while to simmer at the back of my mind whilst the front pretends it has more important things to do. Showrunner Stephen Moffat will be stepping down from Doctor Who at the end of Season 10, after six seasons of leading the show and having written some episodes prior, under Russel T Davies’ running.

I don’t know how to feel about Moffat. On the one hand, he created the Weeping Angels, arguably the best villain introduced in New Who. On the other hand, he ran them into the ground, taking them outside of their niche narrative and inserting them as smaller roles with each passing appearance. He created the Eleventh Doctor, my favourite of them all, trumping even Tenant. But he also created season eight, and whilst the head writer is not to blame for an entire season’s collaboration of multiple writers, he must surely take some of the blame for London turning into a forest and the moon being a goddamn egg.

Here’s one thing I do know, though: Hearing people cheer for your departure from the role of showrunner must be crushing. The constant complaints and utter hatred launched his way for some sketchy writing and questionable plot lines is over the top, and the sheer fact that he deleted his Twitter account (to escape, I’m assuming, from said hatred) just makes me feel ashamed. Am I happy he’s stepping down? Yes. It’ll be nice to step away from shaky plot lines being explained with a mere “wibbly wobbly” and a laugh. It’ll be nice to see what Chris Chibnall brings to the table. But give credit where it’s due. Doctor Who has always had some dodgy writing. It’s not meant to be hardcore, steeped-in-fact Sci-Fi. And Stephen Moffat has done some brilliant episodes, and not just far in the past; did anyone else catch Heaven Sent? Because that was a narrative masterpiece. (Shame about Hell Bent.)

My main issue with Doctor Who is not its writers or lead writer, but its structure as a seasonal narrative. Monster of the week worked for the first few seasons, because the overarching plot was smaller, subtler, and lead up to a finale which left no loose ends. But I think Moffat’s writing was different. It was geared towards longer story archs, more potent in their importance, more grand in their aspirations. Season five didn’t do it too badly, continually drawing out attention back to the cracks and having large plot lines develop in the more notable two-parters. But lately it’s been like… sorry, what was that whole thing with the Time Lords? Yes well that was all rather interesting, let’s go do something completely irrelevant for the next few episodes. It just doesn’t work, and moreover, it’s frustrating. And unless Chris Chibnall either changes the way plot lines work, or changes the overall structure of the series, then I worry that it will continue to fall short of expectations.

Spoilers!

“For what?!” you may cry. “How am I to know what is to be spoiled?! Am I to avoid this dashingly handsome blog post? Please, tell me, o writer of these rambling paragraphs!” Well, fear not, I plan to spoil nothing at all here. Instead, I will be talking about spoilers themselves.

Spoilers are a problem, because what is heard cannot be unheard, and the human mind has a terrific way of stapling anything it doesn’t want to hear to the back of your eyelids. Sometimes, things are spoiled unknowingly, via referential humour, and the wrongdoing is only noticed among the groans of those inflicted, and no amount of apology, accepted or not, can right the wrong. The twist in the story is now burned into that person’s brain, and they will never be able to approach it from a fresh perspective ever again.

Some people spoil things with callous disregard, in the Youtube video titles and thumbnails of their WATCH ME REACT videos, in various social media comments, and lately, in the Facebook trends. I won’t spoil it here, but at the end of a season of a television show, the headline was literally <CHARACTER DIES IN TV SHOW>. There have since been multiples of the headline <FANS OF TV SHOW DISCUSSES CHARACTER’S FATE>. Why? WHY?

The worst kind of spoiler, however, is the one that is still socially acceptable and is by no means meant with any kind of ill intention. It’s the “I’m not going to spoil this for you, but the twist in the end is amazing!” Not as destructive as the detailed discussion of events, but you will now spend that entire movie / TV series / book / holotape waiting for the inevitable betrayal to come, and trying to guess from which character. The problem is, that kind of foreknowledge makes the betrayer easier to predict, as the story is written with the intention of the audience not knowing that there will be any betrayal at all, and therefore not looking for it.

It doesn’t have to be something so monumental as a specific event, either. “That series is great; I wouldn’t get too attached to any of the characters, though.” I wouldn’t scowl at anyone who said this, but even this is sowing the seeds of expectation within the minds of those you’re recommending the fiction to, dulling any unexpected deaths, if only by a little.

Where do we draw the line though? If my previous paragraph is to be believed, we dare not open our mouths to mention even the smallest of details. Many people think that there should be a 2 week or so spoiler free period, after which it’s open season. Others think that spoilers should never be openly discussed with those who haven’t seen it and it’s up to the would-be-spoiler…er… to moderate their side of the discussion. Others think it’s down to the person who doesn’t want to be spoiled to avoid these conversations, and whilst I agree with that to a point (i.e don’t go visiting internet messaging boards about a series you’ve not finished watching), it’s a little selfish to expect the nearest newbie to a fiction to dive headfirst out of the nearest window at the mere mention of their potential spoiler.

My personal guideline is this: Do not discuss spoilers with those who mention not wanting them, and ask first. (“Ah, there was a great moment in… wait, have you ever seen Jessica Jones?” “No.” “Ah alright, you should watch it.”) However, do not tear out the throat of anyone who unintentionally spoils something for you, for it is just fiction in the end, and if they meant no harm, then I’m sure they can be forgiven. Do not post spoilers publicly online, i.e Facebook or Twitter, where there are no spoiler tags available. And for the love of all that is fluffy and adorable, do not publicly spoil something just because somebody spoiled it for you.

Now, speaking of spoilers, I have an issue. I would love to use this blog to discuss things like Jessica Jones, Doctor Who, the books I’m reading, so on and so forth. These would only ever be additional to the weekly posts, as the majority of any readership for a non-specified topic blog won’t be interested. My problem is spoilers; as far as I can tell, WordPress offers no means of hiding spoilers from those just scrolling by, not wanting any trouble. The only way I can see to get around this would be to link to an external place (say, Google Documents) within a small blog post, but websites like that could die or lose their data at any moment, causing future readers looking back (hello!) to lose access to these posts. So, please let me know if you have a solution! Maybe there is a way to hide spoilers on WordPress and I’m just blind.

Update: Sorry this was posted a day late! I told WordPress to schedule this post for yesterday, but for some reason it never went out. It’s my fault for not checking, I suppose, but better late than never!