If you want to write comedies, or include humor in your writing, you might want to know about “Le rire mécanique.” The phrase translates as “mechanical laughter.”
I first came across this phrase in the June 2015 issue of The Writer magazine, in an article by Alicia Anistead.
Anistead wrote about the French philosopher Henri Bergson and his theory that “whenever real life is suddenly interrupted by a mechanistic imposition, like the banana peel, it is disruptive and triggers laughter.” Bergson called this “le rire mécanique.”
Bergson developed a theory of how laughter is provoked and described the process of laughter (in particular portrayals by comics and clowns) as “the caricature of the mechanism nature of humans (habits, automatic acts, etc.).” Wikipedia
Anistead ends her article with a quote by Harvard professor Bob Scanlan, “It [le rire mécanique] pounces on you and catches you unexpectedly. That’s why the pratfall is so perfect. Why that makes us laugh? Nobody knows. But Bergson thinks it’s the interruption of things, a subversion of life as it’s proceeding on its own.”
Marlene’s musings: I just finished watching Episode 11, Season 1 of Grace and Frankie on Netlix. Now you know my secret vice . . . (not a secret anymore!). The dialogue in the final scene between Jane Fonda’s character (Grace) and Lily Tomlin’s character (Frankie) was hilarious, brilliant and as in le rire mécanique . . . completely unexpected. As my belly laughing turned to snorting, I thought about what made this comedic scene so successful. It was the unexpected. If you have seen it. . . let me know. Did you like it? I don’t want to go into detail because I don’t want to spoil the surprise for people who haven’t seen it. I’ll just say Frankie’s revelation still has me in stitches.
Your turn. . . think about Abbott and Costello, the Three Stooges, I Love Lucy, Carol Burnett, Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In, Lily Tomlin . . . the pratfalls, the unexpected vignettes. . . le rire mécanique. Write a scene that includes a comedic aspect. Just write!
Kathy Myers
I hear there are twelve step programs for binge watch-a-holic’s. I’ll go when I’m ready, but not now. I’m determined to see all the previous seasons of Mad Man before I watch the series finale. I poise my finger over the off button as the seconds tick down until the next episode starts automatically. A glance around the room reveals numerous reminders of how my time could be productively spent: tracked in blades of grass poised to be ground into the carpet, the sour scent coming from the vicinity of the cat box, a drooping Wandering Jew begging for water overhead . All will have to wait though. My guilt is not enough to overcome the crave to relive the sixties through the eyes of the gang at Sterling Cooper Ad agency: a magical place and time when you could drink all day at work and smoke everywhere— even in the waiting room at your doctor’s office.
I don’t push the button. I take a hit of Netflix, and get high on the ultimate indulgence of those who have worked hard all their lives so far, and deserve a lot of “me time.” Someday I’ll admit I have a problem: perhaps when my loved ones,in desperation, shove my Roku down the garbage disposal. But I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it. For now I will continue to wallow in my addiction. But I do apologize to the carpet, the kitty, and the Jew. You’ll have to get along without me. I’ll get to you when I’m good and ready.
mcullen Post author
I recently read a Facebook post from a woman, recently retired, who did exactly as she pleased. Got up late, puttered, wandered, leisurely read the paper. No scurrying, hurrying, no “shoulds.” When I read this, I thought, “You can do that?” Have carefree days? Just like that? She probably didn’t even have a to-do list. I’m aiming to go in that direction. . . so, let’s hit the Neflix “Play again, button.” And, Kathy, when you are done with Mad Man. . . go on to Grace and Frankie. I guarantee you will love it!