The general consensus is that comedy is the one of the hardest genres to edit, or at the very least it’s one of the hardest to edit well. In the editing world there is nothing as painful as screening a funny sequence to nothing but dead silence. The playhead comes to a stop at the end of the sequence, the producer turns to you, pauses, and says, “….okay.” Then your insides fall out, you pray for a swift, merciful death and question why you even got up this morning, because you could have sworn that scene was side-splittingly hilarious! And then you remember that editing comedy is hard, but no one seems to have a good answer for why that is.

I don’t have an answer. If I did, I would have monetized it by now. But I have some thoughts after spending the past five plus years working in comedy. Sometimes those thoughts come from the existential crisis at the end of every timeline. Sometimes they come from that morbidly hilarious conversation you had with your best friend that you can never repeat lest someone think you’re actually the devil incarnate. Sometimes, like comedy, it just happens.

First: comedy is hard because everyone has a different sense of humour (please forgive the extraneous “u”, I’m Canadian). You are going to have a different sense of humour than your producers, and they are going to have a different comedic sensibility than the broadcast executives, who are in turn going to find much different things funny than the audience. The first step to good comedy editing is to understand that no one is in the wrong. And just because someone shot down one of your oh-so-hilarious jokes, doesn’t mean they can’t bring something amazing to the table. Comedy, more than any other genre, demands being open to different approaches.

The best way I’ve ever been able to explain the above concisely is: some people think that Paul Blart: Mall Cop is the epitome of humour, and some are more inclined to Monty Python. Look at the popularity of both and you’ll realize that neither are wrong. (For the curious, I come down strongly in favour of Monty Python.) As my mom probably said at one point: different strokes for different folks.

Second: you need to get to the root of why the joke works (or doesn’t work). Comedy is a little bit like magic, we want to know how the trick was done, but we’re scared to spoil the illusion. We like the wonder of not knowing. Knowing will spoil it.

The biggest complaint way back in my film studies course was that boiling movies down to the nitty-gritty ruins them. It spoils their entertainment value to pick them apart and critique them! Fair point. People like their escapism. I’m one of them. But those films that withstand the heavy critique, the ones that hold up to being picked apart layer by layer, we gain a new appreciation for. To me, comedy is the same. Being able to explain why something is funny and figure out how to recreate it, gives me even more respect for those films/tv shows/etc that really nail it.

A well-timed sound effect, the perfect reaction shot, that awkward pause, a ridiculous music cue, contradictory visuals, a deadpan delivery, finely crafted voice-over, or even the classic fart joke are just some of the impliments in the comedy toolbox. Some we have a lot of control over as editors, some we don’t. Some need a ton of crafting, some are hilarious with minimal guidance. As editors, we need to discover why a joke is funny and emphasize that. Where is the funny? Is the funny in what’s being said? Is it in the reaction? Even naturally hilarious moments will fall flat if we don’t find the funny and treat it accordingly.

Third: you need to put your sensibility into it. I’ve been told before that I have a warped sense of humour. Or that I’m sarcastic. Or absurd. Sometimes I’m told that I’m really serious. I am all of those things, and probably more. I have a different sense of humour with my friends, my family, my coworkers and when I’m alone. I like to tap into these different sensibilities with my edits and watch them from the perspective that Friend Rhonda, Daughter/Sister Rhonda, Editor Rhonda and Solo Rhonda might adopt. Ultimately each comedy piece that you edit will have its own personality, and you have to figure out how to approach it in the same way you naturally fall into a certain comedic sensibility in different contexts. Chances are you probably tell more sex jokes with your friends than with your parents. So don’t force cheesy sound effects into deadpan comedy.

Or do. Maybe it’s funnier that way. How the hell should I know? Editing comedy is hard, after all.