What Buster Keaton Taught Me About Humor

Civic Theater is celebrating their 80th birthday this weekend, and they know how to throw a party. Last night, Erica and I went into Allentown to see Buster Keaton in the 1928 silent classic Steamboat Bill, Jr. with live organ accompaniment. As if that isn't a treat enough (maybe it doesn't sound like a treat to you, but I insist that if you gave it a try you'd think otherwise), admission was only five cents, popcorn was free, candy was a dollar, and the evening ended with free birthday cake and coffee. A party, indeed.

A good time was had by all, and I must admit I was completely surprised at how absolutely entertaining the movie was. Keaton really was a master. With his stone-faced expression and unassuming mannerisms, his acrobatic stunts and perfect comedic timing, his haphazard awkwardness and perfectly believable delivery, he kept all of us laughing. Erica and I walked away completely impressed, and realizing how much of today's "humor" is utterly lacking. I was quick to recognize that much more people were laughing louder and longer at Steamboat Bill than they were at my recent outing to Get Smart. And how many actors are quite literally willing to risk their lives for the sake of capturing one 11-second moment on film, no matter how memorable?

(Half the crew walked off the set because of the serious danger of that stunt, by the way.)

At the risk of sounding like an old fuddy duddy, we walked away wondering what we've lost and wishing we could have lived during that period of cinema to experience the pure joy and wonder of it all.

Last fall when I was teaching the book of Ephesians, I arrived at this little verse in chapter 5:

Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving.

Foolish talk or coarse joking...what's that? Whatever it is, it seems to be pretty serious, listed right next to sexual immorality and impurity, and right next to people who aren't going to receive an inheritance in the kingdom of God.

As I studied, commentators discussed and complained all about dirty jokes and today's comedians and movies and sense of humor. I wanted to skip this all together because they all sounded so out of touch and old-fashioned. Besides that, I didn't want to admit that a lot of the things they were probably referencing were probably things I found quite funny and enjoyable. And for those reasons, I definitely didn't want to teach it, and risk sounding like an old-fashioned fuddy duddy myself, at only 24 years of age. (Not to mention that when Christians start talking about humor--good, clean jokes--it usually goes horribly horribly awry.)

But while giggling at Buster Keaton, I think I slowly began to realize what Paul and these guys I was studying were talking about. Today's crass humor--although, let us not be mistaken that it's only today's, as it's always been around--appeals to our utterly base human sinful nature. And even with its apparent sinfulness completely aside, it's worth pointing out that it's not even all that creative or thoughtful, but rather the easy way out. Anyone can make a joke about bodily functions of any sort--even kindergartners do it! We grow up, but our humor rarely does, instead growing progressively less mature, discovering new body functions to joke about, and turning every possible completely innocent phrase into something with a double (and dirty) meaning. In this way, we are corrupting, turning innocent into perverted and immoral, instead of restoring, turning sinful and broken into right and meaningful. Maybe that's why this form of humor is considered so sinful, as all of a sudden what seems like a simple joke turns into working in the completely opposite way Christ calls us to work, tearing down instead of building up.

But it's so easy for us to dismiss these things by saying, "Oh, I'm just joking..."

If God has a sense of humor like so many of us say he does, it's the truest form of humor, and it's completely creative and ironic and thoughtful and imaginative. With that, I would venture to say that Buster Keaton was acting in some way as a servant of God in his work. And why wouldn't we want to strive for the same?

(If you have a spare hour, you can watch all of Steamboat Bill, Jr. on YouTube in six segments, starting here.)