by Jim Barker.
“Comedy is unusual people in real situations; farce is real people in unusual situations” – Chuck Jones
Some may argue whether Tootsie is a farce vs a situational comedy. Sydney Pollack himself stated they downplayed the exaggeration found with some farcical elements, but at its heart – a farce is a farce – and Tootsie has many of the elements in play, particularly coincidences and choreography.
Farce is one of the most difficult, challenging forms of writing.
Perhaps more than any other genre, farce relies on the writer’s complete understanding of many of the things discussed here in previous posts, from the author’s Machiavellianism and inherent use of dramatic irony, to its most essential ingredient, perspective, all used to great effect.
It is, however, also one of the more misunderstood forms of writing from the reader’s perspective.
With an emphasis by some readers on traditional story structure, there’s a tendency to completely miss a farce’s raison d’être centering not on the goal of the story itself, but on the rising complications stemming from it. Coupled with other inherent elements not always en vogue (a large cast, typically longer set-up, and deliberate use of coincidences among others), the farce can seem almost counterculturist in some story analysts’ eyes – but lacking in structure it is not.
So what exactly is a farce and how does it differ from other forms of comedy?
On the stage, it’s a genre that is full of high-energy and very physical stage directions, often “choreographed” – something that still translates to film though perhaps less obvious because of editing. Typically, the plot of a farce is a series of highly improbable events or coincidences that has a tendency to become incomprehensible due to the many twists and turns.
The characters are often, but not always, larger than life and the humor is derived from mistaken identities or misunderstandings resulting in deliberate absurdity or nonsense. In farce, anything goes – which typically means any and all types of comedy are utilized to fulfill the story’s main objective: keep the audience laughing…but the trick is, as a five-course meal for ten, everything has to be prepared and precisely set up.
As for how it differs from other comedies, writer Ken Levine states, with some irony:
I recently was asked how we constructed farces on Cheers and Frasier. I’m sure fifty different comedy writers would give you fifty different approaches but this is mine.
First off there must be jeopardy. Something the characters need very badly and are willing to go to the greatest lengths to achieve. The situation can be totally absurd to us but to the characters themselves, they’re very real. In fact, the greater the jeopardy the crazier they can act.
Secondly, a farce is built on a lie. A character lies and then to keep from getting caught must lie again. The lies multiply, the character digs himself into a deeper hole. And generally, there are several characters forced to lie. Often the lies contradict each other.
Needless to say, this takes careful planning. The structure of a farce is critical. Things have to happen with exact precision. The pressure must never let up. Constant roadblocks must be introduced. Complications on top of more complications. The vice tightens…and tightens…and tightens.
These are but a few of the reasons why an unsuspecting reader walking into a farce is more likely to be overly critical of the writing in this day and age when many scripts aren’t read beyond ten pages, certainly twenty if the writing itself doesn’t conform to some specific prerequisites they may have. (Doubly so if the unsuspecting reader doesn’t know what a farce actually is and how it deviates from traditional storytelling.)