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Why are favorite movie/book/tv show/etc exchanges typically low on content?
They aren't if you're friends with any film or music buffs with a solid knowledge base. When I have a chat with my more movie conscious friends about movies the conversation always includes some level of debate about acting skill, cinematography, flow of events, writing, dialogue, how well the characters mesh together etc.
If you want to successfully critique a piece of art, why not study the formal aspects of the art form some? You don't have to devote your life to it or anything, but it's good to have a repertoire of objective criteria to fall back on when explaining why you like the piece. Besides, it would make your proposed exercise less painless, more effective and you'd be able to parse hardcore reviews of films readily and thus be able to more easily discern whether there is anything out that you might like to watch.
If you can persuade a friend to learn about this art form with you, or go to some functions where you would likely meet someone with discerning taste you will probably have much more fun with this sort of thing.
"I'm suggesting that the actual experience of enjoying or not enjoying a piece of art has relatively little to do with its attention to form"
Maybe for The Hangover 2, but not for, y'know, art. Of whatever type. For example, when I watch or listen to the comedian Richard Herring, I've often literally laughed so hard I become out of breath, can't see, turn red and get a buzzing sound in my ears. But that's because Herring (at his best) plays with the form of stand-up comedy, doing things like telling an extremely dull story and then repeatedly extending it, threatening the audience that it will continue til they all laugh.
Or listening to The Warmth Of The Sun by the Beach Boys, I can tell exactly why I love the song, and it's because of the key change on the third bar, and the way that breaks a standard pattern and turns it into something magical.
If all you're getting out of art is what you're bringing to it, you're probably not looking at the right works...
Not really, although I imagine his humour would appeal to the same kind of people. He's less confrontational and more whimsical than Kaufman though - most of the reference points I could use would be lost on an American, unfortunately (not intended as an insult), but Herring and his former double-act partner Stewart Lee (who does the same kind of thing but is more cerebral and to my mind more obvious, though still great) are part of a long tradition in British comedy - Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, the Goodies, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue, the Palin/Jones team within the Monty Python group...
(I'm rambling now. I'll shut up).
His stuff doesn't work particularly well as clips - often his best shows are structured as a series of jokes in the first half that are funny enough in themselves, but then work up to a very long, complicated routine in the second half that doesn't really work in excerpts. The particular routine I was referring to, though, was the second half of his DVD Someone Likes Yoghurt, which is available from gofasterstripe.com . He also does routines which deconstruct the show in Menage A Un and (to a lesser extent) Hitler Moustache, both of which are available from the same site.
A warning,though - I honestly have no idea how well his humour would travel across the Atlantic.
It's not a matter of individual lines (though he has some lines I quite like - "I'm definitely the best comedian you'll ever see... I don't know the meaning of the word hubris. Which is a shame, because I'm entering a 'define the meaning of the word hubris' competition straight after the show. Doesn't matter, though, I'm definitely going to win.") but the cumulative effect of the whole thing.
I don't have enough of a background in music theory to offer a sophisticated critique of any piece of music, but I can appreciate the use of critical analysis to partially understand the phenomenology of aesthetics. Allow me to illustrate:
Daft Punk's mashup of "Around The World" and "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" (from their Alive tour) is a supremely epic piece of music, and one of the things that makes it so is the fact that it is two songs — each of which is a good song on its own — that go well together. The same kind of thing makes Gounod's Ave Maria good — it's played on top of Bach's Prelude in C Major. If you know something about music theory, feel free to correct me.
Now when I say that a song is a "supremely epic piece of music", I am half-joking. I'm lampshading the Mind Projection Fallacy. The music makes me excited, and happy, and moves me profoundly; and that happens partly because listening to two melodies in harmony with each other makes me more excited. I don't expect others to like "Around the World/Harder, Better, Faster Stronger"; but I expect that for those that like it, this formal property of the music plays a role in their enjoyment.
And of course, that's not the whole story. There are other things that cause me to enjoy this song: There's something about the introduction of the base/percussion line at 1:13, for example. And it probably helps that I was familiar with both "Around the World" and "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" when I first heard this mashup. And conversely, not every mashup or counterpoint piece is good.
ETA: Furthermore, my other comment is an example where any attempt at objective criticism fails me.
I think there are some interesting ideas here, and I agree that analysis of art can (and sometimes should) be done at a high level. But I'm doubtful that The Hangover or even The Hangover 2 is the best example to hang your hat on. I agree with Kevin that the first movie is actually pretty funny. Plus:
Analyzing humor is like dissecting a frog. Few people are interested and the frog dies of it.
Maybe that the quote is not completely true (that is, there are situations when analyzing humor may lead to insight or even more humor), but to some extent, I think White is correct that humor is challenging to analyze without taking the joy/humor out of it. I enjoy laughing, including sometimes stomach-hurting laughter at "lowbrow" comedy, and I prefer to keep laughing at what makes me laugh rather than analyzing it.
Eh. The Hangover was the best low brow comedy in years in the sense that it really actually was funny. Seriously. If you see one low brow comedy this decade, see The Hangover. No opinion on Hangover 2, but it also probably is actually funny.
Surely the mere listing of experiences A, B, C, H, R is only the first step. Ideally we should try to end up with a concise, technical, generative theory of humor and enjoyment.
I'm fairly certain that the theory of humor is already well-developed. I do think it would be great if someone practiced the virtue of scholarship and wrote up a summary of some basic results, though! Perhaps GabrielDuquette could do this to satisfy ver curiosity re: the experiences of humor...
That's a good insight to have. But there's no reason for these goals to be in conflict! Find a book about theories of humor and summarize it or talk about it at a meetup or something! See scholarship as a way of more effectively hanging out with people on the internet!
I'm using exclamation marks to try to muster an excitement that, at a fundamental level, I am not able to muster in myself. Perhaps because I need to eat breakfast.
Responses to this post have alerted me to the strong possibility that I come to LW to hang out with people on the internet, rather than to practice scholarship.
Welcome! That's why we're all here. :)
This link I found on wikipedia seems to be relevant; wikipedia surfing seems like a fruitful venue for this type of question; at least to find good links.
I might also ask a theater arts professor or a comedic actor; they would probably be familiar with the literature.
If I were very serious about the endeavor I would also probably ask my funniest friends about their senses of humor or watch my favorite funny movies and compare to the literature to sift through competing theories if they arose.
Y: "I didn't see the first one. Like everyone, I enjoy the physical experience of laughter, but I expect that if I laugh at all during this particular movie, it will be 'uncomfortable situation' or 'shocking moment' tension-releasing laughter, or at best 'aren't we all having a nice time together in front of this huge image and amidst these loud noises.' I seriously doubt that I will experience the transportive joy of 'in spite of myself,' 'my stomach hurts,' 'I can't breathe,' 'this is better than an orgasm' laughter. In fact, the incidence of that kind of laughter post-adolescence is disappointingly low. Do you ever think about that? Do you worry that the best kind of laughter vanishes as our lives contain fewer and fewer novel experiences?"
X: "Uh... "
Y: "Exactly. So why would I want to pay $12 to hollowly go through the motions?"
Personally, I expect less than transportive joy from $12. "Aren't we all having a nice time together in front of this huge image and amidst these loud noises" strikes me as a fair return on $12, better than a good meal.
I'm fairly used to people providing explanations, albeit sometimes rough ones, of the stylistic elements that evoked particular emotional responses in them, but then, most of my acquaintances have an at least passing familiarity with tvtropes.
I spend a lot of time on the internet looking at funny stuff for free, and I no longer easily find things that invoke that kind of response in me online. In fact, the last time I saw anything online that literally made me laugh so hard I couldn't breathe was in 2007, and that was with company.
Even as a strong introvert, I find that a lot of humor value relies on the social aspect of having someone to share it with, so I will occasionally spend money to go watch a movie in the presence of others and share the experience with them.
As for catpennies, you can use the same penny on as many cats as you can find; the limiting factor isn't pennies, but novelty. Similarly, out of all my purchases I tend to get the most enjoyment per dollar out of video games, and I refrain from buying new ones as often as I could afford to because I suspect that if I bought them more often the enjoyment of playing a new video game would be decreased.
I don't tend to do this sort of thing - at least not on subjects that I don't have some relative expertise in. When the other person can keep up and doesn't feel uncomfortable about it, they've usually already thought the thought if it's not something I am particularly knowledgeable about. A third option is intentionally framing a discussion on some fairly trivial subject as an argument, which I dislike strongly.
A fun trick is to say things that assume the other person has already thought the thought. If they don't understand instantly you can explain in a more natural and less adversarial way, and if they get it I like it better than just saying something and them agreeing.
"Say things that assume the other person has already thought the thought" generated a cached response in my brain of "Are you joking? I hate it when my mouth does that!", and now I'm not sure why. I could try to list possible ways it could go wrong, but that probably wouldn't help much. It's also possible that I'm just associating it with similar beliefs I used to have that were bad.
I wouldn't say it's a general-purpose conversational gambit, but it's one of the things I do instead of talking about thoughts in order to be challenging. I prefer the challenge to be implicit and the fun to be explicit.
On the other hand, when I have substantive conversations with people about why they like or dislike particular books or movies, these conversations usually depress me by revealing the stupidity and banality of other peoples' tastes, and driving home more deeply the point that anyone perceptive enough to be a great artist will probably be a failure as an artist.
Boris Vian's Froth on the Daydream, read in my teens. Prompted contemplation of quite improbable things with nevertheless strong internal logic, like the pianococktail, a useful "étude" for later cultivating an appreciation for original thinking.
The Hangover is probably a bad example here. I went into it thinking the movie would suck; but ended up enjoying it thoroughly.
I thought it was quite funny. A better example would be something you have actually seen and judged as bleh.
"Say things that assume the other person has already thought the thought" generated a cached response in my brain of "Are you joking? I hate it when my mouth does that!", and now I'm not sure why. I could try to list possible ways it could go wrong, but that probably wouldn't help much. It's also possible that I'm just associating it with similar beliefs I used to have that were bad.
I wouldn't say it's a general-purpose conversational gambit, but it's one of the things I do instead of talking about thoughts in order to be challenging. I prefer the challenge to be implicit and the fun to be explicit.