The Aristocrats (imdb.com | amazon.com
There’s something to be said for reviews that strive to move beyond a mere recounting of a film’s plot; this hopes to be one of those reviews. Still, in this instance, it seems particularly important to fill you in on exactly what the Aristocrats is: it’s a non-joke, all buildup with an intentionally weak punch line. As an interesting aside (interesting to me, anyway), while I hadn’t heard of the Aristocrats joke prior to this movie, I was intimately (or rather, painfully) familiar with “The Fuck You, Clown” Joke (see more about the joke at everything2), and it’s the same basic idea only propagated amongst the “in” crowd of comedians. Just like the “Fuck You, Clown” Joke, and, in fact, good joke telling everywhere, the Aristocrats isn’t so much a recipe as a foundation, on which the teller is expected to improv him/herself to glorious heights and inter-group acclaim. Here’s the basic structure:
Back in the Vaudeville days, a manager for a family act (or the group themselves) goes in to see a talent agent, and they pitch their act. It involves, usually, the father, mother, son, and daughter, and often an animal of some sort (generally a dog) and also a grandparent or two–and whoever else the teller wants to toss in. The people all piss on, shit on, fuck, and hurt each other, often with phrases such as “sucking and fucking,” “cock,” “shit,” “cunt,” and “reaming the asshole,” tossed about with as much abandon as possible.
After a seemingly interminable amount of time, the act has been described (or completed), and the talent agent goes, “Jesus Christ! So what do you call yourselves?” And the manager/family goes, “The Aristocrats!” (Joke teller splaying hands, wholesome enthusiasm dripping from his/her voice.)
There’s a whole lot interesting about the joke; one thing I think is cool is that while now it’s completely removed from that context, it may well have honestly started as a short, regular-ish punch-lined, dirty joke: A family comes out, wallows in its own shit. Wha’dya call it? The Aristocrats! Class snarkiness in beautiful action; working-class Joe Blow could certainly get a snigger out of that. I can, anyway.
Another thing that’s interesting is how a movie filled with over an hour of people cursing and describing horrific, generally illegal sex acts, can be both boring and un-shocking.
Well, boring is a little harsh. It does hold your interest, if for no other reason than, much like when you listen to the joke for the first time, you’re left certain that at any moment the other shoe is going to drop, and something totally fucking amazing is about to happen. Much like in the joke, however, it generally doesn’t. The few highlights are Bob Saget (a highlight for anyone who remembers Full House, anyway), Sarah Silverman, Cartman’s Aristocrat retelling, and some guy that I knew the face of but not the name. (If you end up watching it, he’s the guy who says he was on friends, and who looks stoned off his ass, and is actually funny.) Also, a mime does a completely silent retelling (genius!), and Gilbert Godfried is shown doing a really interesting, cadenced version at the Friar’s Roast of Hugh Hefner (right after 9/11).
It didn’t work for me too well for one big reason: it didn’t trust the source. Never, ever, ever do they just let a comedian do their thing (except for Cartman’s aristocrats, which is played unedited). Aside from cutting back and forth between interview sessions (which isn’t all that bad, because at least the intention–to create some sort of self-reflexive interweaving of perspectives–is noble), the directors, for some reason, chose to lace the entire film with little jump cuts; every time someone finishes a sentence (fragment), the movie jumps ahead to when they start talking again. To put it in perspective, during a few of the interviews you can see people in the background who are walking jump forward less than a foot due to pointless editing.
The sad bit with the editing is that it’s not just pointless, but it also actively kills the most important part of any piece of humor: the timing. You need silence, half-seconds for comprehension to dawn, for the audience to take the next step on their own before you jump back in and take control–that kind of thing.
The Aristocrats as it is: a hyper-kinetic slideshow of the filmmakers’ hundreds of hours of missing the point, sprinkled with moments of teh funny that somehow managed to slip through.
As I think it should have been: a much smaller number of comedians (five or so) captured by two or so cameras simultaneously as they TOLD THE JOKE–and here’s the kicker! They were all there, together, so each person that went knew what had gone before–and what they would have to top. Because that’s what the joke is supposed to be: a dick measuring contest for comedians, to prove who could out-improv everyone else.
Plus the joke would actually work, then–people would be in control with their timing, the editing could be kept to simple rhythmic underscoring of what the comedian was trying to do, and life would have been very, very good. In between each person, there would be plenty of time for history, reminiscences, etc.
Jesus, I’m smart. I should run the world or something (that was sarcasm by the way, intended to show that my “how it should have been” is not necessarily The Definitive Word of the Universe).
Anyway, it’s worth renting. If not, just watch this. It’s about 70% of the good stuff, anyway: