By Nicholas White
Story
As an inside, if outdated, joke among comedians, "The Aristocrats" is rarely told on stage. How the world's oldest joke is told depends on the comic; it doesn't exactly have a script. In a nutshell, it's about a stage family who combines bestiality, incest, rape, excretion, ejaculation, vomit, and blood (or any other repulsive you can think of) into their act. The joke's punch line doesn't quite translate as well for today's audiences, but that's not the point. It's the set-up, the telling of the joke, which fuels
The Aristocrats' story. The joy of
Provenza's film is in seeing how today's most gifted, well-known comics (from
George Carlin to
Jon Stewart to
Sarah Silverman) riff in free-form, all telling the same joke, working from the same platform, but delivering their own interpretations. It's the singer, not the song.
Acting
The real-life comics are themselves, letting it all hang out--including Carrot Top running around with no pants.
Drew Carey pals around on the set of his TV show;
Bob Saget preps for a stand-up set;
Bill Maher trash-talks the Osbournes--these guys are the real deal. But
The Aristocrats' true acting in is the improvisation, framed as the ultimate comic talent. As
Andy Dick and
Whoopi Goldberg rant about penises, they're embracing improv as a metaphor for the spirit of comedy: organic, spontaneous, and a symbol of the performer.
Direction
Provenza might want to keep his day job, as his directing on
The Aristocrats, his first feature, is a fine mess.
Provenza grabbed a couple mid-range camcorders, enlisted some friends (including executive producer and creative collaborator
Penn Jillette of HBO's
Bulls**t!), and hit record. The film's free form matches its spirit, but the sloppiness is just a little too cavalier. Some shots are close, some are far away; some scenes are cut too quickly, some are just one long take. There is no clear three-act form. The movie's thematic through-lines are limited, except those that occur naturally. But even for all the chaos, the movie's 83-minute cumulative effect is poignant, fostering a greater respect for the genius of comedy creativity. It speaks to the talent on display.