The art of comedy is an inherently complex thing, with those who proclaim themselves as ‘comedians’ working hard to keep up with the ever-changing tastes of their audiences. A discipline that works off of shock, with comedians often earning the accidental laugh of shock or humiliation. Yet the scandalous side of comedy has reached a disconnect within an increasingly socially-aware world correlating with growing complaints from both sides. As some audiences condemn the use of offensive humour which ridicules certain subsections of society, the other half of society rally against this condemnation, proclaiming the ‘death of comedy’ as we know it.
One key figure that this disconnect has rallied around is Ricky Gervais, a comedian who believes offending people is an ‘occupational hazard’ in an increasingly ‘woke’ world. Gervais maintains that humour involves a level of offence, evoking a separation between his treatment of others in the real world and in comedy. His most recent controversy emerges from his Netflix special Armageddon which saw Gervais ‘poke fun’ at terminally ill children alongside the use of an ableist slur.
Gervais defended this humour, outlining his special as ‘just jokes’ as he doesn’t even use the r-slur in real life. Yet, I can’t help but feel that Gervais misses the mark with this explanation. Humour does not exist as a separate entity to real life remarks, the jokes comedians like Gervais make often have genuine consequences in the attitudes of his fans towards these groups. This notion is confirmed by Scope (a charity that works with those with disabilities) who tweeted in response to Armageddon: “Language like this has consequences. The stage is real. Netflix is real. The people this kind of language impacts are real”, a tweet which resulted in the account having to switch off replies due to the abuse received by Gervais’ defenders.
To me, this outlines not only the universal perception that comedy and real life hold a greater connection than Gervais cares to admit, but also the toxic network of fans created by this ‘offensive humour’. The jokes recycled by Gervais often derive from a younger and darker side of the web, a side which ‘gets off’ on antagonistic and combative attitudes towards a steadily progressive youth. And Gervais is not alone in his desire for slightly ‘darker’ humour, but other mainstream comedians have also shown an interest in shifting towards the ‘edgier’ side of humour.
Jimmy Carr’s 2022 Netflix special entitled His Dark Materials centred almost entirely around controversial jokes, with his opener including a ‘trigger warning’ for the more sensitive audience members. These comedians frame their jokes around a desire to hit back against ‘Cancel Culture’ which they argue stifles creative comedy. Yet, in my belief, this desire to retaliate against ‘wokeism’ comes at the expense of the marginalised groups, a fact which many ‘edgy’ comedies seem unwilling to admit. The emergence of the alt-right (alternative right-wing) in 2010 signalled the increased use of the internet as a means of communicating political beliefs. Online memes centred around the degradation and online harassment of those in opposition to the far-right nationalist stance of the group became central to the communication of this ideology.
Obviously, this article is not a suggestion that comedians like Gervais are responsible for the rise of far-right ideologies amongst the newer generations. The humour of Gervais built on sarcasm and quick-wit is a far-cry from the blunt offensive online interactions of the average alt-right supporter. Yet I can’t help but speculate that the attempts of ‘controversial’ comedians to ‘one-up’ those at the receiving end of their wit holds a degree of culpability. My experience with misogynistic humour circling schools and university by self-titled ‘incels’ does not seem a world away from the rape jokes told by Carr and Gervais. As Jason Wilson from the Guardian analysed, “the alt-right weaponise irony, using humour and ambiguity as tactics to wrong-foot their opponents’’. This new wave of ‘alt-right’ fanatics thrives off their ability to joke and get one over on the ‘wokies’ of the left, something that is mirrored in the mainstream comedy circuit.
Ultimately, whilst perhaps unwittingly, comedians like Gervais are paralleling the language and actions of these antagonists, picking on the same groups and recycling the same attitudes. Poe’s law (a proverb emerging in the early stages of the internet) outlines any parodic or sarcastic expression of extreme views will inevitably be mistaken by some readers as sincere. Whilst Gervais may claim that his jokes are not indicative of his treatment to marginalised groups in real life, some who support and defend his work are potentially not able to claim the same. Ultimately, if the punchline for these jokes is indistinguishable from the genuinely held beliefs of those who marginalise these groups, the argument that the jokes do not create offence feels weak.
Finally, these specials centred around ‘dark humour’ often fail two-fold. Not only does it pander to these increasingly right-wing beliefs, but they also fail to be funny. The jokes produced by Gervais in Armageddon were panned in the media with his special receiving 50% on Rotten Tomatoes, alongside blistering reviews in the Daily Telegraph and the Guardian. Whilst Gervais may excuse his falling views to the presumption that ‘woke-left’ are working against him, his controversial jokes appear merely no longer funny to the bulk of the population. Ultimately, the consistent ridiculing of the least privileged in society is proving an outdated side of comedy, with new waves of comedy working alongside their audiences rather than against them.
