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React to Me: The Sequel

Disclaimer: I am a crazed Improv Everywhere fan. If seeking unbiased commentary, it may be best to look elsewhere.

From their website: “Improv Everywhere is a New York City-based prank collective that causes scenes of chaos and joy in public places.” 

The first Improv Everywhere video I watched was, Redheads Protest Wendy's, in which red heads protested the red haired logo of Wendy's, because it promoted stereotypes about red-haired people. Instantly, I found myself laughing at the situation, and more importantly the reactions of bystanders. Many people wondered what was going on, and how to weave around the line of over 50 protesters. No one questioned the realism of the protest; no one ever thought it was a prank.

Why did they do this? Why did over 50 redheads take time out of their lives to stage a fake protest?

There's something else mind-boggling about pranks, all of this hard work, preparation, and time-commitment for a few reactions (that you may never even see).

But wait, Improv Everywhere is a collective, and so therefore, are the pranks. The people being pranked (prankees) are not friends, family members, or even acquaintances; they are complete strangers. Often times, during and after the prank, there is a togetherness, a shared experience between not just the prankers and the prankees, but among the prankees as well.

Take the Redheads Protest Wendy's example. The video had instances of people turning to others, people asking what's going on, people chiming in on the protest. Everyone was interacting with a stranger because they were all a group of strangers being pranked by another group of strangers. And they were this specific group of people because they happened to be at a certain place, during a certain time. 

Excuse the over-dramatic simile, but it's like a natural disaster. When you're walking around and hear a tornado siren, you might stop for a few seconds. You could turn to the person next to you and ask, "Did you hear that?" You might look around you and see if anyone is on their cell-phone. You might ask others where the best shelter is located. 

It's an unusual situation, and because of the strangeness, you might feel compelled to leave your comfort zone and acknowledge the other people who exist with and around you. You notice your surroundings, the time of day, the passing of time, the political (in)correctness of a logo, etc.

Improv Everywhere claims to have no political or social commentary. I disagree with that, because I am one of those people, yes those people, who think that all art is political. 

Where ever Improv Everywhere goes, it is shaking up the normalcy of a situation. It is asking questions about ourselves, space, and others around us. In Haunted House, a boring and lonely commute to work becomes a festivity filled with human interaction and emotion.

After Pollack's remarkable abstract paintings, it was said that the last great frontier in art was performance art, and that's exactly what Improv Everywhere is. They perform in the streets, receive no payments, and often times, audience members are not aware that they are audience members.

Improv Everywhere recently collaborated with the Guggenheim Museum, in which their pranks took an even higher level of self-awareness and creativity.

I originally drifted towards their videos for silly reactions from unsuspecting bystanders. Yet now I realize that reactions don't matter as much as the multiple factors that caused the person's reaction. A pie in the face might generate a simple reflex of anger or sadness, but seeing Anton Chekov give a reading at Barnes & Nobles with 40 other strangers provokes a multitude of responses that are far more complex and unpredictable.  

#guggenheimmuseumnyc #hauntedhouse #humor #improveverywhere #nyc #pranks #zombiechekov

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React to Me: Part I

Pranks: The lowest form of humor. It’s even lower than slapstick, which is so low that it doesn't even have to drop it to pop and lock it.

Or maybe not…

When I think of the word “prank”, I think of pie in the face, butter on the floor, turned red in the face shenanigans. And for a while, that’s all I thought pranks were. Well, until I discovered Improv Everywhere.

In this first part, I am going to write about why pranks are funny, and I believe there are a number of reasons.

Reason #1: We enjoy watching others suffer. There's a word for that-schadenfreude.

Reason #2: Dramatic irony, you are aware that butter is all over the kitchen floor. The unsuspecting prankee, however, is not. 

Reason #3: The reactions. You almost never know how the prankee will react, and that is the beauty of it. They might become angry or cry or scream or laugh with you (but then later cry in the bathroom).

#humor #pranks #reactions #schadenfreude #dramaticirony #pieintheface

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The intro to Garth Marenghi's Dark Place

Read more about it below!

#darkplace #canada #bad80s #80sscifi #80stv #fake80s #garthmarenghi

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So Bad It's Good and Funny

A few weeks ago, I had the (dis)pleasure of watching a film entitled Battle: Los Angeles. It has to be good; Aaron Eckhart is in it, right? Wrong. In the film, aliens from another planet invade Earth, with a plan to colonize earthlings and use water for fuel. A team of marines has other plans, which include defeating the aliens and saving humanity, among other things.

This movie was not supposed to be a comedy. I repeat (for emphasis), this movie was not supposed to be a comedy.

There is just something about bad movies, music, etc. When I first watched Vertigo, the Hitchcock classic, I couldn’t help but smirk at the special effects. Why do we laugh?

One reason might be irony. I went into Battle: LA certainly not expecting an Oscar winner, but at the very least decent dialogue and plot. Instead, I heard the line “It’s okay, I’m a veterinarian.”

The veterinarian was attempting to justify her expertise in performing an autopsy on a deceased space invader. This just doesn’t make sense. Aliens aren’t animals, they’re otherwordly!

Besides irony, one other reason might be that failure, or subpar work is funny. These filmmakers attempted to create a work of art that would entertain and excite you. Instead, you’re sitting here laughing at how that line of dialogue is not the least bit realistic (granted, aliens attacking Los Angeles isn’t very rational either).

Laughing at how bad something is may not be the most “classy sense of humor”, but it exists. It’s like laughing at someone for slipping on ice, except; instead of slipping on ice, they produced a predictable movie with bad dialogue. You might feel a little guilty, but you do it anyways.

The nice thing about bad movies is that everyone can talk, and rarely get annoyed. While watching Battle: LA, we discussed if aliens could be kept as pets, why aliens never come in peace anymore and why one should always write a will.

The DVD even started skipping at one point, and no one cared.

My story is just one example, but there are countless others. What does “it’s so bad it’s funny” mean? Some people out there may have genuinely enjoyed Battle: LA, which makes me feel bad about laughing at its awfulness. What about the special effects in Vertigo? 60’s moviegoers were probably in awe of the film’s special effects, while I, in the Michael Bay era, found them cheap and silly.

And what about television shows, movies, and music that realize “so bad it’s funny” is actually a legitimate source of humor?

The best example I have of this is the Canadian television show, Garth Marenghi’s Dark Place. The entire show is actually a parody of low-budget sci-fi 80’s television shows.

I first saw this show when I was watching television with my brother at my grandparents’ house. My brother and I almost believed this was a real 80’s television show up until the commercial break. Garth Marenghi’s Dark Place never acknowledges that it is not an actual 80’s sci-fi television show. The show’s commitment to the genre makes it a truly unique piece of art that demonstrates the power of “it’s so bad it’s funny”.

#funny #humor #bad #sogooditsbad #losangeles #aaroneckhart #iowacity #garthmarenghisdarkplace #darkplace

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Classic

How can I begin a blog about humorous art without mentioning Duchamp? Well, I can’t.

If you don’t know, (and it’s okay if you don’t) Marcel Duchamp is a famous French artist known primarily for two works. The first, and most famous, piece is that of a urinal. In 1917, he submitted it to an art exhibit that claimed they would accept anything, Duchamp’s Fountain was denied.

I remember when I first learned of Duchamp’s masterpiece. I was reading my art history book in Old Capitol Mall’s food court* on a snowy Friday morning. My reactions were as follows:

1) Emotion: Smirk

Thought: A urinal as an art piece? What is this guy thinking?

2) Emotion: Smile

Thought: People peed in that!

3)Emotion: Laughter

Thought: PEOPLE PEED IN THAT!

4) Emotion: Quiet Contemplation

Thought:  Wait, what is this really?

It’s the last reaction which causes me to reexamine this piece again and again. Why is a urinal as art funny? One reason might be because it’s absurd. When many people think of art, they often think of the finest oil paints from Italy, ancient Greek statues, epic pictorials, and stuffy, uptight galleries. In 1917, a signed urinal as a legitimate piece of art was considered absurd, ironic, and even tasteless. Fountain was not well-received by art critics and the public alike, but as the idea of conceptual art progressed, Duchamp’s work came to be regarded as a classical work of the genre.

Fountain asks a question, a question that can never be fully answered. Yes, that question, and I think you already know what it’s going to be: What is art? And I’d argue that many of Duchamp’s works take that question further, and ask: What is “good” art? What is “bad” art?

Who is deciding what is “good” and “bad” art? Are you really deciding? Or are you regurgitating what you have been taught are “good” and “classical” pieces of art? That “good” art is handcrafted, has properly defined forms, is realistic, uses the finest materials, and portrays subtle and aesthetically pleasing colors (i.e. not neon green).

I don’t think Duchamp wants to replace Fountain with the Mona Lisa. He just wants you to reexamine why the Mona Lisa is given so much credit in the first place. Do I like the Mona Lisa just because I was told it’s the most well-known painting in the entire western art canon? Or do I really like it? And if I do, why?

This blog post has turned into a lot of very heavy and confusing questions, and if you want to leave now, I’m excusing you.

For those of you who have stayed, L.H.O.O.Q. is Duchamp’s second most well-known work. It is a cheap postcard of the Mona Lisa, he added the moustache, goatee, and letters “L.H.O.O.Q.” in pencil. Some of this piece’s humor comes from the absurd idea of someone defacing the Mona Lisa with a moustache and goatee. Such vandalism might be okay on an ad in a subway car, but not on a piece of art, and especially not Leonardo Da Vinci’s masterpiece. L.H.O.O.Q., like Fountain, makes me wonder why that distinction exists, and who decided it.

One of the arguments made against Shakespeare in my Intro to English Major class was that out of all the playwrights of that period, his were the plays that survived the interregnum, meaning they were consistently performed afterwards because there was nothing else around. My book, which took the side of a Shakespeare-hater for a chapter, claimed that Shakespeare is not the “greatest playwright ever”. Instead, his esteem derives from luck and an unrelenting, dedicated fan-base.

I don’t think Fountain and my Intro to English Major book were trying to make people angry. They’re just asking why we like the things we like and why certain pieces of art are given precedence over other artworks. And I think those are good questions to ask, not only when it comes to art, but when it comes to humor as well.

So why I do like the Mona Lisa? I’m not really sure anymore.

*Old Capitol Mall is a terrible place to get reading done. I start reading and the next thing I know; I’m eating a vegetable burrito and listening to someone at the table next to me talk about their pet rat.

#Duchamp #urinal #art #absurd #humor #old capitol