The Aristocrats
directed by Paul Provenza & Penn Jillette

        Movies about comedy can be surprisingly unfunny. Last year’s Comedian, a documentary following Jerry Seinfeld’s rebirth in stand-up paralleled with the ascent of an overweening fledgling named Orny Adams, takes a very serious look at the difficult job of performing and succeeding in the business of making people laugh. There hasn’t been a more unappealing display of comics since the Tom Hanks film Punchline, which sadly reminds audiences how awkward most comedy clubs can be.
         Therefore to say that The Aristocrats is about comedy in all its forms and applications may not be much endorsement even to those of us who grew up glued to every stand-up special offered by HBO or A&E in that era between Ed Sullivan and Comedy Central. Instead I’ll assure you that Paul Provenza and Penn Jillette’s documentary IS comedy. Pure, unadulterated comedy. There may not be another film, another non-concert film anyway, that will generate so much laughter while still conforming to a topic of interest.
        The topic is a joke that has been around since vaudeville about an inappropriately crude family act ironically named The Aristocrats. Told simply the joke is flat, but elaborating on the family’s routine became a backstage tradition among established comedians in need of an indecency outlet during times of obscenity laws. As speech taboos were mellowed, the variations on the routine called for further mining into the unthinkable. Now the output of offensive materials may include scatology, bestiality, incest, hardcore political incorrectness and shocking exploitations of timely disasters, all in the performers’ constant effort to outdo what was previously acceptable.
            Over a hundred comedians, writers and other entertainers appear in the documentary to relate stories, explore the history and provide outlandish interpretations of the joke, though none of them in an attempt to better one another. Their lack of competitiveness at times seems a tribute to Bob Saget, who is credited as the reigning champ of boundless vulgarity and proves himself worthy of such on camera. More importantly, though, the featured artists exhibit an inclusive esteem, maintaining a respectful bond within the laugh trade that unites nearly every funnyman from Robin Williams to Carrot Top. There are a few jabs at outsiders like Gallagher, infamous for his watermelon-smashing schtick, and Jerry Seinfeld, who in Comedian comes across as more aristocrat than joker anyway.
             The scope of the joke’s arrangements and translations is compared in the film to jazz because of its free-form improvisation. But any art form shares in the privilege of informality. What it does observe and glorify even greater is the limitless breadth of execution. The Aristocrats is a sampling of styles that distinguishes the sweetness of Rita Rudner from the faux innocence of Sarah Silverman and the absurd wit of Fred Willard from the random discursiveness of Gilbert Gottfried. Two of the most hilarious highlights involve a card-trick magician and a street mime brilliantly adapting the bit to their respective genres, their deliveries triumphs in comedic flexibility.
               Until now the greatest celebration of comedy had been HBO’s annual "Comic Relief" fundraisers, which often required skipping about depending on one’s taste in comics (difficult since the specials are only available on VHS). The Aristocrats has enough variety for everyone with an open mind and is paced efficiently so that any lull in laughter is very short (in other words, Richard Jeni’s screen-time is brief). In fact, any light overflow of chuckles should carry through any weak spots.
     Note: There’s a good chance that one or two viewers will become bored at some point, because even though nobody necessarily lacks the ability to output or input comedy –as the movie shows us the many emissions of humor it also acknowledges the many senses of it –an unfortunate few is without a proper appreciation of it.

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