Here are some of the opening paragraphs from Clown: Readings in Theatre Practice
Preface
The comedian, Bill Hicks, told this
story in his show, Sane Man:
I was in Nashville, Tennessee last week
and after the show I went to a waffle house, right, and I’m sitting there
eating and reading a book, I don’t know anybody and I’m eating and I’m reading
a book, and this waitress comes over to me and ‘tut tut tut tut tut! What you
reading for?’ I said, ‘Wow, I’ve never been asked that!’ Not, “what am I
reading?”, but “what am I reading for?”
well, goddammit, you stumped me!’ [...] then this trucker in the next booth
gets up, stands over me and goes, ‘Well, looks like we got ourselves a reader!’
(Hicks 1989)
This book, another kind of reader, has
all the makings for being turned into a joke. A book about clown, clowns and
clowning, and a serious one at that. Olly Double, the stand-up comedian and
academic, begins his second book, Getting
the Joke (2005), with a section entitled ‘I’ve Got a Degree in
Beckhamology’ where he tells of the media reaction to his obtaining a full-time
academic post at the University of Kent:
The idea of teaching stand-up comedy at
university had all the hallmarks of a silly-season classic, and the press went
for the hey-you’ll-never-believe-what-these-crazy-academics-are-up-to-now
angle. The Guardian’s piece started:
I say. I say. Did you hear that they’ve hired a clown at Kent University? No,
really. He’s going to be teaching the students stand-up comedy. No. Seriously,
laze ‘n’ gennermen, he’s got a Ph.D. in it. Actually, Dr Oliver Double is not a
clown, but he is a practising stand-up comedian. And he will be teaching
third-year drama students who want it — and ooh, we all want it, don’t we,
missis! — the art of rambling into a pub microphone and making people choke on
their pints with mirth. (Double 2005: 1-2)
Of course, the idea of being serious
about something which isn’t serious, like comedy, or clowning, is funny. In
fact, being serious about anything, in the clown’s world, is funny. But the
idea that we don’t, or can’t, have ideas about clowns is just plain false. When
I was researching this book, I wrote some short reviews of clown performances,
books, films and other phenomena, as I wanted to find a vocabulary with which
to talk about clown on its own terms and not by the criteria of other genres.
One clown took offence, not because I had reviewed him negatively (I hadn’t),
but because he believed that none of us had the knowledge or the licence to be
able to criticise others in the profession. Clowns today may on the whole be
mutually supportive, as is to be expected given our present low status, both
culturally and economically (it was not always thus), but ideas and beliefs -
positive and negative, insightful and banal - about clowns are all around us.
It might be useful to draw some of them together so that we know what they are
and can think about them.
Introduction:
Clown Ideas
We would expect to begin with a clear
definition of the field of enquiry. But defining what a clown is is not a straightforward matter. Just
about everyone has ideas, preconceptions or opinions about clowns. Clowns
themselves certainly do. There is a surprising variety of ideas around about
clowns, especially when you start looking beyond your own time and place.
Some define clown in terms of the
dynamics of both laughter: ‘A clown who doesn’t provoke laughter is a shameful
mime’ (Gaulier 2007a: 289) and failure: ‘this big idiot who regrets not being
funny’ (Gaulier 2007a: 301). Although others disagree: ‘It's okay not to be
funny. Clowns do not have to make people laugh‘ (Simon 2009: 31), whilst others
believe clowns to be sad or to exhibit ‘shabby melancholy‘ (Stott 2009: XVI).
Some define clown in relation to
expected behavior or rules: clowns ‘contradict their context‘ (McManus 2003). ‘The key
feature uniting all clowns, therefore, is their ability, skill or stupidity, to
break the rules (McManus 2003: 12).
An
etymological definition would take us back to the origins of the word clown in
16th England, referring to those who do not behave like gentlemen,
but in ‘clownish or uncivil fashions‘ (French
Academy, 1586).
Some identify the clown with the red
nose, which they consider to be ‘a tiny neutral mask for the clown’ (Wright
2002: 80), which is also ‘a quest for liberation from the “social masks” we all
wear‘ (Murray 2003: 79, on Jacques
Lecoq).
Some consider that clowning is a route
to spirituality and self-knowledge, via ‘a great joy, a great confidence, a
great acceptance of ourselves, and thus of others too‘ (Cenoz 2011); ‘the main
similarity between clown and Zen is that if you are you are thinking, then you
are not where you want to be‘ (Cohen 2005); ‘Clowning is about the freedom that
comes from a state of total, unconditional acceptance of our most authentic
selves‘ (Henderson 2008).
Some see clowning as a means to relieve
suffering, ranging in status from ‘respected complementary care providers [and]
members of the health care team‘ (Koller and Gryski 2008), to the more humble
friend: ‘I would never agree laughter is the best medicine, I’ve never said it.
Friendship is clearly the best medicine‘ (Adams 2007).
Some believe clowns are responsible for
bringing rain to the crops: ‘they also
fast, mortify themselves, and pray to Those Above that every kind of fruit may ripen
in its time, even the fruit in woman’s womb‘ (Bandolier 1890: 34). Some ascribe
such powers to their taboo-breaking: ‘This “wisdom” magically acquired shows
well that this is a question of the breaking of a taboo’ (Makarius 1974: 63).
Some think that clowns are a socially
useful way to control traffic, since they ’can achieve what traffic police
cannot achieve using warning and sanctions [...] by employing artistic and
peaceful actions’ (Toothaker 2011), but others believe that to be a clown is to
sink below human dignity: ’I'm going to earn something, even if it’s as a
clown’ (Partido del Trabajo de México 2009).
At times, some have believed clowns
could stop wars: ’The laughter of Bim and Bom almost stopped the Russian
Revolution’ (Schechter 1998: 33). Alternatively, they might find themselves on
the side of governments: ’Nikulin replied: “Who will be the subject of our
parody? The government is marvellous”’ (Schechter 1998: 15-16). Some think that
clowns can teach politicians: ’The World Parliament of Clowns will give
scientists, politicians, managers and entrepreneurs, artists and religious
leaders [...] immunity to say all their thoughts and ideas and to give all
their wisdom to the world without the fear of blame and humiliation. One of the
rights of clowns is to fail’ (Moshaeva 2006). Others see politicians as clowns:
‘In order for the balance to be harmonious, the President must be a whiteface
clown and the Prime Minister an auguste, in their nature as much as in their
function’ (Fallois in Rémy 1945: XIX).
Some see clowns in the street: ’skills
that are necessary for clowning, such as [...] street theatre’ (Haifa 2006)
whilst others do not: ’Dreams of grandeur save the idiot. His ambition isn’t to
play in the street (not a very comfortable place) but at the Paris Opera’
(Gaulier 2007a: 291).
The list is much longer. Clowns have
been seen as revolutionary, reactionary, avant-garde, universal, marginal,
irrelevant, fundamental, dangerous, harmless, immoral, exemplary, skilled,
chaotic, wealthy, poor, innocent, cruel, joyous, melancholic, or as fulfilling
any number of social, artistic, cultural or political functions as can be
imagined.
Today for some, the clown is a figure
that has survived from the past, pre-technological, pre-modern, pre-literate
even. For others, clown has undergone a renewal and branched out into new and
highly contemporary fields: the
post-Stanislavskian training of performers; therapy and a means to spiritual
self-discovery; or a tool to change politics and decision-making in a world
racing towards disaster.
All of these views could be shown to be
at least partly true, at least at a particular moment in a particular place.
The opposites could also be shown to be true, perhaps in other places and at
other times. The point is that clowns, though they may be ubiquitous, are just
as varied as any other phenomenon. They have a history, indeed many histories.
They occur in different cultural contexts. There are often very precise reasons
for why they are the way they are. We can usually trace particular
characteristics to particular dates, or specific people and places. By looking
at a wide range of material on clowns, we can see just how historically and
culturally determined they are. If we can see what is specific to times, places
and individuals, perhaps we can also see more clearly what clowns have in
common, and if there is anything which always holds true for clowns.
[...]
Containing such an array of
perspectives, this book is also bound, at some point or another, to go against
the grain of what you think you know about clowns. Whatever one’s grain is, it
will probably go against it. My own included. And in a way that’s what clowns
are, they go against the grain. Whenever I see two people in agreement, my
instinct is to disagree with them. Maybe that’s what led me to be a clown. In
any case, it’s a useful research tool. A kind of naive scepticism, no malice
intended. When two people agree on what clowns are, my ears prick up even more,
ready to provide the contrary view if called upon. Or even if not.
So hopefully you will find something in
this book that will make you think you might be wrong about clown. Which would
be no bad thing, since clowns inevitably end up being wrong. I say to clown
students that 93% of our lives and actions are failures and only 7% of it turns
out right. That isn’t because I or anyone else has done such a scientific
experiment; I took to the idea some years ago after reading that 93% of
communication is apparently non-verbal. I liked the idea, though for the life
of me I couldn’t see how you could measure such a thing. So given that the
scientist in question was, in my opinion, making it up, I thought I might as
well do the same. It feels about right to me, as a clown. When I say 93% of our
lives, I mean all human beings, not just clowns. One thing one might say about
clowns, though, is that they could be happy with such a statistic. Perhaps that
is what marks you out as a clown from the rest. This admission of failure is
the bedrock upon which most clown training of the last half century has been
founded (Gaulier, Cenoz, Clay, etc.). The World Parliament of Clowns promotes
the use of failure as a form of intelligence, hoping to influence world
policy-makers (Antoschka).
I trust, then, that we will all be happy
to give up some of our assumptions about clown throughout the course of this
book, and that it will fail to live up to our own prejudices and expectations.
© Jon Davison 2013 Palgrave Macmillan
To buy this book directly from the publisher: http://www.palgrave.com/products/title.aspx?pid=498885
