How Blake Edwards Made Things Funny (With Clips!)
Comedy is hard. Everyone knows this, and you often hear it said.
But I actually think it's an understatement. Comedy is a miracle. There are any number of ways to do make people laugh – think about the elegant wit of Ernst Lubitsch, or the broad, Borscht Belt-inspired tomfoolery of Mel Brooks, or the wry observations of Elaine May, or any of the rest – and they all emerge from places that are so mysterious and complicated as to beggar the imagination…and yet they're also often startlingly simple.
One person can spend months working on a stand-up routine and never quite get it right; another can turn around and smack their groin into a chair and crack people up for a decade on YouTube. It's this push and pull of mystery and simplicity, difficulty and ease, that makes comedy so strange and miraculous when it's done right.
In part, it emerges from instinct: some people have an innate, almost reflex understanding of what will make other people laugh. It can also come from insight, that ability to identify and articulate shared aspects of our experience that are funny, or that are painful but can be rendered less so by being pulled out into the light of the comedic.
But another element of comedy – particularly in film – is technical. It's this last one that I've been thinking about this week as I've revisited some of the films of Blake Edwards.
Edwards was a Hollywood brat – the stepson of a production manager, whose father in turn had been a silent movie director – who started out as an actor, but made his mark as a director, perhaps reaching the peak of his fame with the Pink Panther films starring Peter Sellers as the madcap French detective Jacques Clouseau. Edwards had a distinct and identifiable sense of humor, both as a writer and a director, but he also had a real mastery of the technique of comedy.
And by looking at a few of the ways he made people laugh, I think we can understand a little bit about how movies in general work in this regard. So let's take a look.
1. Timing
You frequently hear people say that comedy is about timing. But what do they mean? Here's a clip from Victor/Victoria from 1982. It shows a scene in which a nightclub owner is hiring a private detective to find out whether his incredibly popular cross-dressing act is in fact a man performing as a woman, or is perhaps a woman pretending to be a man performing as a woman (which is actually the case).
The idea of comedic timing that most people think about comes here with the rhythm of the dialogue at the end. There is a warning ("Be careful"), and an assurance ("I'm always careful"); at this point we, like the detective, think we understand what's going on: that the warning is about the dangers of the mission. But then comes a change of direction ("That stool is broken") and an expression of surprise ("It is?"); for a split second we're caught in a moment of suspense: we haven't expected this, and don't know what's coming. And then the stool collapses, and we feel that explosive, physical response of laughter in our chests. This is comedic timing at its best.
Note, however, two other small details. First, the cut at the end of the gag comes very quickly: rather than draw out the moment, Edwards sends us on to something new. (He is a master, as you'll see, at ending comedic sequences.) The briefness of it emphasizes the quick shock of the gag, making it even funnier. Second, the long slow walk that opens the scene works to heighten the misdirection. It puts us in a serious mood by setting this up as a dramatic moment, which is then overthrown by the comedy. These things – how to get out of the gag and how to set it up – are also a part of timing.
2. Sound and Speed
Although Edwards had a great love for silent comedies, and certainly drew inspiration from their pratfall-based humor, he could also use the full panoply of filmic effects to make us laugh. The following scene is from The Pink Panther Strikes Again (1976). The set-up is a battle in Clouseau's apartment between the detective and his manservant Cato (the wonderful Burt Kwouk), whom he has instructed to attack him by surprise at any and all times, in order to keep his fighting reflexes sharp. Also on the scene (in the apartment below, with the periscope) is Commissioner Dreyfus (Herbert Lom), Clouseau's old boss who has been driven mad by the bumbling detective's antics and is trying to kill him.
The comedic force of this sequence will hopefully strike you immediately, and it comes, of course, in large part from the vast talents of Sellers and Kwouk. As you watch, though, be aware of the sound design of the scene: it's entirely constructed of various kinds of yells. Note also how much delight Edwards draws out of pushing these vocal theatrics into slow-motion, and from the use of visual slow motion as well. These are purely filmic techniques – sound and speed – being used magnificently well to aid the comedy.
3. The Edwards Long Take
Long takes, or single takes, or "oners" in the parlance, may be the most fetishized element of a certain kind of movie fan. The term refers, of course, to a single shot that runs on for some time without stopping. The most famous examples – the opening of Touch of Evil, or the restaurant-entrance scene of Goodfellas, or pick one of many others – are often seen as some of the crowning achievements of cinematic form. Who knows whether or not this is true, but it has certainly led to a certain class of fans who seem to think that a director is good relative to their ability to create a "cool oner."
Edwards used his long takes a bit differently. He was certainly fond of shots that lasted in the one to three-minute range, but his purpose in them was never to draw attention to his own skill, but to give his actors time and space to perform. He was also a master at using the timing, pace, and blocking of an extended shot to help shape its dramatic and comedic effects. Which is to say that the clips here are a long way from an exclamation of "Hey! Look what an amazing director I am!" Instead, they function in a technical sense to heighten the impact of the events on screen and to put the focus on the talents of the cast.
The first clip is again from Victor/Victoria. It shows a bodyguard escorting the now-on-the-outs girlfriend (Lesley Ann Warren) of a gangster to a train to get her out of town. She's pissed off, as you'll see, and wants everyone to know it. As you watch the shot, though, note how wonderfully the single take works - in its movement and its use of sound - to highlight Warren's comedic abilities. And there is also, of course, the trademark bit of Edwards zaniness at the end, which not only wraps it up spectacularly, but also gives Warren a perfect exit line.
The second clip is from the first Edwards/Sellers collaboration, The Pink Panther, from 1963. It shows Clouseau and his wife Simone (played by the French actress and model Capucine, who is a surprisingly accomplished comedian), getting themselves settled in their hotel room, after which it's revealed that Simone is having an affair with a jewel thief played by David Niven.
The shot has four different physical gags, two of which involve both Sellers and Capucine, which is hard enough to pull off in a single take. But notice also how well the rhythm and movement of the shot helps Sellers and Capucine to display the particulars of their characters and the relationship between them (the way he follows her around, making clear his un-reciprocated fascination with her; the moment in which he adjusts his suit after coming out of the closet; the way she tosses away the negligee after he's gone) and also how dynamically it contrasts the characters played by Sellers and Niven. Again, there is nothing of Edwards' ego in this shot; it is all about setting up the actors to give great performances, and then using the camera to subtly emphasize what's happening.
4. Working with Peter Sellers
There's a lot to be said for the way in which working with a genius can help advance your career. By all accounts, the Pink Panther films, as well as the other work that Edwards and Sellers did together, were collaborative affairs. The two famously fought a good deal on set, but also shared many of the same comedic sensibilities and were able to produce beloved comedies because of it.
Having said that, all of the technical things I've been talking about are a lot easier when they involve someone of Sellers's capabilities. Below is another clip from The Pink Panther Strikes Again, in which Clouseau interrogates the various servants on an estate about a kidnapping that has taken place. Aficionados will recognize that this is a replay of a sequence in the second Pink Panther installment A Shot in the Dark (1964), and includes several of the same gags, including the bit where he steps on the woman's foot. By Strikes Again, the fourth Clouseau film Sellers and Edwards had done together, they had fallen to repeating themselves occasionally, although I tend to see this as them refining their bits.
In any event, to my way of thinking this sequence shows Edwards and Sellers at their very best. Watch the relatively long comedic takes, and the rhythm that Edwards and editor Alan Jones (never forget the importance of editors in all of this!) create throughout the whole, with both the pacing of the action itself and the inserts of people's faces. But above all, note how the comedic bits here keep on building and building, until the final cut at the end, which is yet another example of Edwards's extraordinary understanding of how to end a scene.
All of this is a matter of brilliant writing, and brilliant comedic acting. But it also emerges from of a real technical ability behind the camera.
Comedy is a miracle, and when it comes together, there's little than can beat it.
Enjoy this piece? If you want to support me, please share tylersage.substack.com with anyone you know who's interested in film, culture, ideas, or ebullience.
Also, as this is an entirely reader-funded endeavor, I'd be eternally grateful if you'd consider subscribing for $5 a month. For this meager amount, you'll receive every piece in full, get full access to the archives of this site, and greatly contribute to my ability to keep writing.
If you'd like to read more of my work, my book on William Klein's cult classic superhero film Mr. Freedom is now available. And my novel The Committers is available here.